“When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
Black Water is more like a self-portrait of all the emotions that I am going through.
No color palette, no severe brush marks, no specific textures or patterns, nothing. Left alone in a foreign country, knowing there is no one from my past that I can turn to, standing in the middle of the unknown. The existence of dream counts on the imaginary beauty and each dreamer tends to chase this so-called beauty to get away from the non-beauty in life.
I do the same.
Is this beauty a real thing, or is it fictional? And what is beauty, and what is nonbeauty? When I was trying to illustrate a picture of such, I tend to depict it as an anticipation - Embrace the moment and get ready for whatever it comes, even if such an anticipation is illusional or paranoid. I keep seeking the way out instinctively, understanding the essence of reality and fiction under the suffocating pressure.
This is my perception of life, in a way of emotional impacts and shocks. I feel like it is okay to stay in solitude. It is okay to live with loneliness. It is okay to bear with vulnerability. The black water will take away everything and keep going. It is all about that moment, the unknown. All the differences between age, gender, class, race will be washed away, and all that left is the soul itself.
A moment of moving forward. A moment of purity.
It is about diving into the unknown. To run. To roar. To blast. Water can flow, or it can crash. As I looked deeper into myself, I see the black water.
It’s not the beginning of the end. It’s the end of the beginning.
Black Water is more like a self-portrait of all the emotions that I am going through.
No color palette, no severe brush marks, no specific textures or patterns, nothing. Left alone in a foreign country, knowing there is no one from my past that I can turn to, standing in the middle of the unknown. The existence of dream counts on the imaginary beauty and each dreamer tends to chase this so-called beauty to get away from the non-beauty in life.
I do the same.
Is this beauty a real thing, or is it fictional? And what is beauty, and what is nonbeauty? When I was trying to illustrate a picture of such, I tend to depict it as an anticipation - Embrace the moment and get ready for whatever it comes, even if such an anticipation is illusional or paranoid. I keep seeking the way out instinctively, understanding the essence of reality and fiction under the suffocating pressure.
This is my perception of life, in a way of emotional impacts and shocks. I feel like it is okay to stay in solitude. It is okay to live with loneliness. It is okay to bear with vulnerability. The black water will take away everything and keep going. It is all about that moment, the unknown. All the differences between age, gender, class, race will be washed away, and all that left is the soul itself.
A moment of moving forward. A moment of purity.
It is about diving into the unknown. To run. To roar. To blast. Water can flow, or it can crash. As I looked deeper into myself, I see the black water.
It’s not the beginning of the end. It’s the end of the beginning.
A Sign
A Way Out
Black Water
Compressed Hope
Fake Hope
Fly A Kite By The Hudson River
Mirage
One Surface
Rings
Squeezed Hope
Untitled
Water Surface
Way Out
Webson Ji