A young Chinese painter talks about her ink drawings.
A life that is half way in a dream, the dreams happened in just one yicia.
Loving it doesn’t let me express anything.
I fell in a sad memory, but I cannot believe it. Memory is unreliable. We always modify a story and then believe that it’s the true memory.
Luxury, love and memory become easy to express and to believe sincerely in my dream, while in the awaken world it’s to tiring. When I am awake I have no need to sustain its weight and its lightness.
I can say that this series of work is my medicine, that doesn’t heal me nor hurt me, which doesn’t make me happy nor sad, that doesn’t give me pleasure nor sorrow, that only makes me sleep in a dream of a thousand years in the Yicia.
Simple stretches, ink and paper, fast paintings … the whole expression of the essential, Wan Wan.