This series of work is completed at the nature+ artist residency at Qiandao (thousand-island) Lake in May 2021. The lake is a human-made freshwater lake located in Chun-an Country, Zhejiang Province, China. For the construction of a hydroelectric station, thousands of mountains were flooded, drowned, transformed into islands, dotting the lake and peeking over its calm surface.

In Chinese, the character for island is 鳥: a bird atop a mountain – “There're always mountains (for birds) to rest at sea.”

In this time of the recent pandemic, a contemplation on the nature of islands made me reflect on how our social connections were severed. We, families, individuals, resembled islands floating on water, distant from each other.

Yet when you look at an island, you know that you only see the small part that protrudes from the surface. Mountains are more connected at their roots than we know, even if these associations cannot be seen at first glance. Islands have their unknowable nature, the biggest parts of them lie under the surface, revealing their secrets only to those who chose to dive into the water.

If your eyes are birds, then let them rest on my islands, the ones rising up from indigo dye. What is submerged cannot be seen, but it can be experienced, discerned, by touching on that which is visible and tangible.

With this series, I wish to hint at the transitional geographic property of mountains and islands, the new connections of land and water; at the same time, demonstrate their poetry, telling a story of social transition, awareness and the ever-changing relationships amongst ourselves and in relation to nature.

This series of work is completed at the nature+ artist residency at Qiandao (thousand-island) Lake in May 2021. The lake is a human-made freshwater lake located in Chun-an Country, Zhejiang Province, China. For the construction of a hydroelectric station, thousands of mountains were flooded, drowned, transformed into islands, dotting the lake and peeking over its calm surface.

In Chinese, the character for island is 鳥: a bird atop a mountain – “There're always mountains (for birds) to rest at sea.”

In this time of the recent pandemic, a contemplation on the nature of islands made me reflect on how our social connections were severed. We, families, individuals, resembled islands floating on water, distant from each other.

Yet when you look at an island, you know that you only see the small part that protrudes from the surface. Mountains are more connected at their roots than we know, even if these associations cannot be seen at first glance. Islands have their unknowable nature, the biggest parts of them lie under the surface, revealing their secrets only to those who chose to dive into the water.

If your eyes are birds, then let them rest on my islands, the ones rising up from indigo dye. What is submerged cannot be seen, but it can be experienced, discerned, by touching on that which is visible and tangible.

With this series, I wish to hint at the transitional geographic property of mountains and islands, the new connections of land and water; at the same time, demonstrate their poetry, telling a story of social transition, awareness and the ever-changing relationships amongst ourselves and in relation to nature.