Rumor of My 2nd Floor Leap

In my family’s eyes, I was always the stubborn, hot-tempered child. My aunt once told a story: she scolded me for my homework, I stormed upstairs to the second floor, and ten minutes later, she saw me walk back through the front door, thinking I had jumped from the second floor. From that day, she believed I shouldn’t be scolded, or I might do something reckless. This memory made me realize that my family’s understanding of me is built from fragments and misunderstandings. I gradually learned to hide my emotions and accept how my image was defined. These emotional experiences became material for my art. I make the characters isolated, exaggerated, stacked—sometimes absurd, like misunderstanding itself. The figures in the work are both me and how others see me.

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