This black-and-white landscape shot came from my family's collection. From an aerial viewpoint, this snapshot depicts a street scene in an undisclosed Chinese city in the late twentieth century. Because there is no indication of a definite date, location, or photographer, the photograph's information is limited. As they enter the space of this artwork in an aerial view, the viewers occupy a God's eye posture. The viewers are indifferently detached from the subjects in this image while dangling in the air. Strangeness, repulsion, and exclusion are all present in this image, and the spectators are outsiders. The juxtaposition between the grandeur of the town and the diminutive pedestrians gives the impression of a perplexed LEGO city. In a panorama showroom, the viewers are watching the subjects. The massive parterre in the foreground provides a sense of enormous immobility, which is heightened by the ghostly disappearance of pedestrians in the background.
This snapshot prompts me to consider the paradoxical relationship between family archival photographs and my subjectivity as I immerse myself in this strangeness and aversion. This image in my family collection is connected to one of my relatives—it could be their old home, or one of them could be the photographer. However, I am also a stranger among these stacks of images. This image has given me a strange sense of familiarity and solitude, which serves as a portal. I enter an illusory location where various memory pieces shuffle in front of my eyes. When I combine this landscape image with other old photographs, the unspoken memories and a sense of familiarity and isolation become a hidden code, a feeling that only my other family members understand.
I began to consider how I could use these memory fragments to strengthen my bonds with my family. Our material relationship (e.g., their "blood" and surnames) is so strong, deep, and sticky that it obstructs my curiosity and desire to learn more about their whole humanity. What memories are enshrined in these images? I'm not sure how I should approach them. By dancing with these images, can I rethink this relationship and release my curiosity to listen to their stories?
Having many questions in mind, I decided to compile a photobook about the family archive, photograph, and imagination.