Long since I saw Rashomon directed by Akira Kurosawa, all doubts and curiosity out from the world filled in my heart. Statement on one occasion could be variable due to personal interest and emotion. If witness is unreliable, then what is truth about and answers could be forever buried. Mysteries abounded the earthly world, therefore each individual employs separate perspective to look at the world, however conclusion they arrived seems often absurd or iffy. Those confident human beings could sometimes get so ridiculous that any arbitrary decision means nothing than doubt. The world is contained with numerous contradictions, opposing and conforming—how could they be so different some time and so alike some other time. Unpredictable definition makes innocent our destiny. Through thinking we never see truth clearly, only dragged further away.

 Physical world strayed from the past—neon about, giant viaduct, rattling grab machine and soaring dust they bring along—exiting, suffering and prosperous like carnival, complacent with reverence and awe. More and more subjects crowded together with abruptness, absurd and chaos. Overwhelming desires furnished China with life and crisis at the same time. Just like this, we are exposed in front of reality, with reflection-impressed innermost shelled in deranged outer. Left on canvas are the traces of dream fringing reality. Poet, pure art generating from and impact on heart, attached to the most direct expression—words, by pages or lines that receives permanent memory. While painting is more material from means and process, it materializes spirit that every works is one chance for spiritual release. Even though such satisfaction probably shall replaced by void, such process are more concrete to be engrossed with. In a sense, we should be grateful to such unprecedented context created by our ancestors that we have so many possibilities in artistic expression, however creativity does not only showed by methodology; since methodology itself are of no infiniteness,  according to various social ideology, psychology and time, the content of our expression will always be infinite. China today, historically and geographically is so special with much ecological scenes to feature on, and under the hustle semblance of true life, what more attractive is the psychological image left. It sees through the complex and felt the settling from mist in life, which must be above the superficial life some to dream, some to mourn, some lonely, some hurt, some exiting, some void. What left will be remember. Maybe we still hope something to be done, for life is real transient and if existence means disappearing, then everything is disappearing. Or maybe we could only set sample by ourselves, set up a monument with reality, as a perfect specimen. 

“Reality Type” by Yu Hua, showed a curial stated story on biological chain, cold story and supernatural nightmare. Fact or not is of no importance than its shocking and provoking metaphor on real life, world, and human nature. If this could be take as reality, then maybe unreality is realer than real…