A badge, wood, concrete, inkjet printing on paper, glass, copper, a shield window, advertising posters collected from streets, a twenty-dollar bill, quotes from Mao Zedong in 1967
To count every single belonging during a journey; to count what remains of values and magnanimity during the decline of an era.
Here is a badge that belongs to the individual and this place. It hides chaotic meanings underneath an appearance of brilliant colours. In the end, perhaps what it symbolizes is the endless fight for a balance between good and evil. Yet trees cannot bear fruits in concrete; street poles are covered with layers of totems of consumerism; indifferently, vehicles speed across roads that we have once lain on. Before all these I often feel tired, like being infected with an incurable disease.
Is it possible to become forgetful of the concealed sadness of things because of information explosion? Offhandedly I take something from home, and some off the streets. By collecting I hope to remember all these unspeakable and untraceable gestures of tradition, civilization and rule.