Yaxi's Artist Statement

Through a sliver in that aged curtain

wind blows from winter to spring

silently, wrinkles all rubbed in

leaves scattered around

stained black by the soil

skeins of shadow, knitted as one

gently lift up the new buds

swaying in rhythm, they dance and giggle

It is always hard to say goodbye. Especially in moments when we must bid farewell to those we love, such a word could become incredibly heavy. People often intend to avoid or soften the impact of such farewells by making them as mundane and routine as possible. But, most likely this will just add another layer of melancholy to the fact that a significant part of us is going to be separated. Personally, I have found it hard to say goodbye, and it is not merely about the act of saying the words or the moment of farewell itself. It all happens when the idea that someone or something will inevitably change and never come back strikes me. This can stem from something as small as watching the sun dip below the horizon or from events occurring months before a planned move or graduation. What ensues is an insatiable urge to preserve these moments better and to revisit related memories, dusting them off to shine anew. However, the ebb and flow of memories can be unpredictable. Like the shadow of leaves in the poem above, memory appears flattened, curled, and stretched with a tinted black vignette around it, always vanishing and emerging in the wind. They are never a passive substance that waits still for us to retrieve. The skeins of shadow are also not merely simple imprints of the leaves. They were the leaves and they are also lifting up the new ones.

Memory is such a magical and elusive phenomenon that can never quite be fully explained or understood, leaving us forever curious. Approximately a year ago, my perception of memory underwent a radical shift. I read an article about a phenomenon called Aphantasia. In short, Aphantasia is a condition where a person is unable to create mental images or sensory experiences in their mind. I was truly astonished to learn about the existence of such a distinction and how it had gone unnoticed for so long. This realization has also helped me understand many of my personal traits, including my struggle with bidding farewell. When I shut my eyes, the scene in front of me dissolves in the wind, leaving only a faint imprint. This might also be the reason for me to develop the habit of documenting my everyday life with art. 

With my art pieces, the indescribable at certain times could be attached somewhere. Following them, I could always find a path, even in darkness.