Over ten years, a private nocturnal practice of self-reckoning—restlessness, invention, expectation, dawning insight, and the quiet thrill of understanding—has accumulated into a personal line of thought. That interior trajectory is translated into forms resembling feather veins and leaf veins: ordered, yet never fully regular, carrying a postmodern sensibility through variation and deviation. It moves between the playful spirit of Memphis and the plural readings of deconstruction—organic, quasi-natural in texture—while retaining the unpremeditated candor of Chinese cursive calligraphy, where flying white (feibai) leaves breath in the stroke. Sincere and unbridled, the work composes complexity into a field of agitation: inspiration drifting, twisting, stretching, and leaping—an anatomy of unrest.

The making of the piece is not merely fabrication but inner fermentation—an alchemy through which process is sublimated into a visible state of mind, like a deep inhalation within the spirit. From the object, I speak to how design has rescued my thinking again and again—until it has become a form of faith. My innovation, my ideas, even my conviction: they bloom through the act of making.

This work takes the meteor as a physical vessel for desire. The richly colored fragments—what remains as the meteor burns and breaks apart—read as luminous residues of unspoken thoughts: wishes not uttered, yet somehow lit from within, carrying a spectrum that hints at obsession and fate. A slender line of gold cuts across the composition like the meteor’s brief trajectory across the sky—fine, flickering, and still capacious enough to bear the weight of a lifetime’s prayer.

When people make a wish, it does not linger in the air; it falls—entering the earth—descending toward the surface of a nocturnal lake. Here, “descent” is treated as arrival. The meteor’s remnants settle close to the water’s mirror, as if time slows at this threshold, and the afterglow of light is gathered and sedimented by the lake. The black tendrils offer a second register of language: desire extended—growing, entwining, and linking in places we cannot see. Wishes rarely come true in straight lines; they germinate by detour. What the work makes palpable is that long, intimate process—private, patient, and quietly transformational.

When the moon is at its closest point to Earth in its elliptical orbit, we can see a slightly larger moon from the surface of the Earth. Its light is stronger, and it appears larger, as if we could reach it if we ran fast enough. The work uses circular metal pieces to interpret the moon's halo, while the elongated waterway symbolizes the connection between planets. The cat serves as a messenger sent to the moon, infusing energy into Chongren New Village, allowing the vibrant light to freely spill over this historic land.

“The evergreen cone—seed of pine and cypress—has long signified endurance, even immortality. Under the slogan of sustainability, the earth is being reimagined as a cyclical ecosystem. When our senses are surrounded by the signs of revival, and we stand beneath the awakened figure of lungs—expanding and contracting—we are reminded that humanity and all living beings share an equal claim to survival on this planet.”

Driven by a kinetic structure, the cone’s scales slowly open and close, echoing the rise and fall of a chest in breath. Rather than biomimetic machine, this work is more accurately described as a somatic-signature mechanism—a machine of bodily traces. Titled Shí CORE, and conceived as a “life symbol” in the form of a hall light, it marks a beginning: the first pulse of a building’s revival after abandonment.

Installed high within a former police outpost built in 1936 during the Japanese era, the piece functions like an implanted artificial heart. It renders the architecture a living body—endowed with heartbeat, endowed with breath—so that the building does not merely stand, but inhales and returns.

The work is anchored by a “sun carefully set in place.” At the center, a composed disc—quiet as growth rings—signals the order of time and the root of civilization. Around it, dense golden fronds flare outward like light, grain, and sharpened senses: expanding in every direction, yet never losing restraint. Peace is not the absence of turbulence; it is the capacity to keep measure within fluctuation—to gather desire into ritual, to turn anxiety into rhythm, to let strength sink quietly into the details of everyday life. The work adopts an almost votive form so that “abundance” does not become display, but an inward radiance: silent, enduring, dependable. When the viewer meets gold against the depth of black stone veining, prosperity reveals its true source—not external conquest, but the long discipline of a self and a community: order, trust, and self-limitation. Only then can the bright day endure; only then can peace be sustained.

The classical poetic essence of French luxury jewelry, with its enduring heritage, deeply immerses one in an atmosphere of elegant grace that spans centuries. The pursuit of profound wisdom not only embodies the eternal vitality of the tree but also presents its splendor through the inlaying of thirty sizes of sparkling rhinestones. The 24K gold leaf gilding adds a layer of treasure-like radiance to the canopy, resembling a poetic dialogue. Through auspicious prosperity, it seems to encapsulate eternal value and timeless legacy into this precious artwork.

A pure substance is commonly understood through three phases—solid, liquid, and gas. A supercritical fluid emerges when temperature and pressure exceed the critical point, where the densities of gas and liquid converge and collapse into a single, homogeneous phase. Once matter enters this state, it inhabits an in-between stability: it can no longer be cleanly classified as either liquid or gas, yet it carries the signatures of both.

It behaves like a gas—low surface tension, low viscosity, high diffusivity, compressible, capable of rapid discharge—while simultaneously holding the gravity of a liquid—high density, high solvency, a tangible, weight-bearing flow. It is paradox made material: a unified phase that refuses a single category, a stable form born from exceeding limits.

In art-making, we repeatedly return to one question: how does stability coexist with movement? Supercritical fluid becomes a precise metaphor for that pursuit. Its “stability” is not softness—it is forged by extremity: high pressure, high heat. Under conditions that would normally create chaos, matter holds a coherent state. This is why it resonates with contemporary life: we long for steady work, reliable relationships, a home that does not collapse—small assurances against an uncertain world. Yet, as the supercritical state reminds us, stability is never a permanent monument. Change is inevitable; control has edges; the search for steadiness can itself generate new pressures.

By linking the physics of supercritical fluid to the human desire for a stable life, the work invites reflection on the delicate equilibrium between the fixed and the shifting. It asks viewers to reconsider what they call “secure,” what they choose to hold onto, and what they are willing to let transform—until a new, quietly resilient phase of living becomes possible.

This work holds a balance between stability and flow, tracing the subtle relationship between what remains fixed and what continually shifts in a life. Through the notion of a supercritical fluid, it reveals a paradoxical steadiness born from constant transformation—a stable state that exists precisely because it never stops changing. In a world increasingly defined by uncertainty, the piece invites viewers to recalibrate: to re-examine the values they keep, the desires they chase, and the forms of stability they choose to believe in.

In the northern outskirts of Taoyuan—near Nankan—on a hillside where settlements gather like drifting clouds, this is where **Fushu** is born. To wander without aim is, in itself, an aim. The journey is about to begin.

The cosmos follows a path of light into the atrium, composing a star-shaped trunk in pooled shadow—luminous yet subdued. It feels like a poetic cue, a quiet instruction, leading us into an enchanted terrain of sky and earth. Standing on the slope and looking up, cloud-mists thread through the body of the tree. Through mirrored surfaces, it sketches a likeness for us; through its persistent rightward sweep, it gathers our interior life in an almost inexplicable way, until form acquires meaning.

Here, time becomes a material to explore. Reality becomes something to handle—turned, tested, re-read. In giving shape to the spatial ethos of Fushan, the work releases imagination to take flight.

The cloud, a traditional emblem of good fortune, appears here as a five-branched form. While drawing in moisture, it leans outward to look—like an introverted yet curious guardian of auspice—resting at ease, gently teasing the water curtain, choosing to linger in this place.

Its five branches are supple and agile: some fall softly, as if bending to whisper; others coil upward like vines in search of new life. They sway in small, almost breathing motions, as though catching the wind’s hush or the water’s quiet chime. Each branch holds a distinct temperament—contained, yet subtly alive.

AUSPICIOUS steps lightly across the still surface. Its reflection slides along the watery veil and drifts outward, as if the work were extending its presence into the surroundings. The cloud’s arrival carries an invisible steadiness—allowing this site to flourish as it once did, in a harmony of coexistence.

At first encounter, 五吉 seems to peek and probe, guiding the viewer through the route: from the elegance of its slender branches toward a sequence of striking transformations where its richer emotions come into view. This experience is unlike a conventional artwork. It belongs to artist Hsin Lee’s distinctive method of “Architectural Extension Art,” in which form continues through space and the site itself becomes part of the sculpture’s unfolding.

This series was first presented in May 2024 at National Taichung Theater, Tutu Hall.

In an immediate, legible gesture, a seemingly static knot-form marks the point of origin—the first articulation of the TA YA energy chain. Yet the knot is never merely a resolved object; it is also a living syntax of braiding, an ongoing act: inexhaustible, unbound, extending freely in all directions. Through this quiet expansion, points are linked into lines, lines accrue and gather into planes—enacting the very process by which the chain becomes structural, indispensable, and formative to tomorrow’s energy development.

The knot also bears the cultural resonance of an omamori cord—an amuletic binding—signifying TA YA’s steady force: restrained, reliable, and silently protective, as it continues to guard this land.

Six unfurling cable cores release a terrestrial-celestial voltage—an electric breath that records six years of grounded, dependable supply. Eight trajectories, measured in years, are drawn with sustained precision: eight cables inscribe circles—slowly, steadily—drafting the blueprint of infinite tomorrows.

This work stands for TA YA’s 68-year insistence on stability: laying down assurance and ease so that we may approach the unknown without fear. Here, light—normally a brief event—becomes enduring. It is held, made constant, as if entering the register of the eternal: a cyclic continuity that cultivates sustainability, where infinite return composes tomorrow’s beauty in its most truthful form.

An energy chain—production, transmission, application, and then production once more—unfolds like a life cycle, a perpetual itinerary of light.

Braided copper cables compose a sequence of stations: climbing mountain ridges, descending into the seabed, settling within cities. Between these terrains, beams of energy surge and slip through the weave, as if TA YA’s stable power were dispersed everywhere—present, consistent, and unseen.

The luminous current moves slowly, then connects—thread to thread—suggesting TA YA’s solutions for tomorrow: guiding the industry across borders, steering forward into the future, into sustainability. A train of light, sparked from lightning itself, advances at an unhurried pace—entering the fast track of transmission, pausing at the points of storage, transmuting into a restrained red train. From the layer of governance and control, it is then dispatched—separating, arriving—toward every platform that needs warmth.

In an immediate, legible gesture, a seemingly static knot-form marks the point of origin—the first articulation of the TA YA energy chain. Yet the knot is never merely a resolved object; it is also a living syntax of braiding, an ongoing act: inexhaustible, unbound, extending freely in all directions. Through this quiet expansion, points are linked into lines, lines accrue and gather into planes—enacting the very process by which the chain becomes structural, indispensable, and formative to tomorrow’s energy development.

The knot also bears the cultural resonance of an omamori cord—an amuletic binding—signifying TA YA’s steady force: restrained, reliable, and silently protective, as it continues to guard this land.

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