Snow Deer
Poetry / Translation / Performance Apparatus
Chapbook, 15 × 18 cm, 16 pp.
April 2026
Chapbook, 15 × 18 cm, 16 pp.
April 2026
Presented at
The Kitchen, Dutch Art Institute Confluence, Landgoed de Meerberg, Teteringen, the Netherlands, 21 April 2026
Forthcoming
Publication in Decolonial Practices, SIGN, Groningen, the Netherlands, 2027
Snow Deer begins with the return to a pale sky-blue bath towel left folded for three years. Around it gather the low-saturation, plastic-toned objects of everyday life: stationery, toys, slime, cleaning cloths, bottles, and containers—cheap, replaceable materials whose familiarity makes them almost disappear.
Drawn from domestic and educational environments shaped by rapid urban change and standardization, these objects carry a private history of collecting, staining, folding, touching, and preserving.
Colors and surfaces return not as evidence, but as residue. They hold time lightly, like snow settling over a room.
Rather than restoring what has been lost, Snow Deer remains with what survives after use has faded: folds, stains, pale colors, and objects that continue to carry a life they can no longer fully contain.
Written and translated between places and temporalities that no longer receive me.
The Kitchen, Dutch Art Institute Confluence, Landgoed de Meerberg, Teteringen, the Netherlands, 21 April 2026
Forthcoming
Publication in Decolonial Practices, SIGN, Groningen, the Netherlands, 2027
Snow Deer begins with the return to a pale sky-blue bath towel left folded for three years. Around it gather the low-saturation, plastic-toned objects of everyday life: stationery, toys, slime, cleaning cloths, bottles, and containers—cheap, replaceable materials whose familiarity makes them almost disappear.
Drawn from domestic and educational environments shaped by rapid urban change and standardization, these objects carry a private history of collecting, staining, folding, touching, and preserving.
Colors and surfaces return not as evidence, but as residue. They hold time lightly, like snow settling over a room.
Rather than restoring what has been lost, Snow Deer remains with what survives after use has faded: folds, stains, pale colors, and objects that continue to carry a life they can no longer fully contain.
Written and translated between places and temporalities that no longer receive me.
→ 中文
《雪鹿》始于一条浅天蓝色的浴巾，它被叠好，搁置了三年之久。围绕在它周围的，是日常生活中低饱和度、塑料质感的小物件：文具、玩具、史莱姆、清洁布、瓶子、容器——廉价而可替换的材料，因其过于熟悉而几乎让人视而不见。
这些物品来自受快速城市化与标准化所塑造的家居与教育环境，承载着一段私人的收集、 沾染、折叠、触摸与保存的历史。
色彩与表面再度出现，并非作为证据，而是作为残留。它们轻柔地承载着时间，如同雪落在房间里。
《雪鹿》并不试图恢复已然失去之物，而是停留于使用消退之后仍然存活的部分：褶皱、 污迹、淡去的颜色，以及那些仍在承载一种它再也无法完全容纳的生活的物件。
写于、译于那些不再接纳我的地方与时间之间。
这些物品来自受快速城市化与标准化所塑造的家居与教育环境，承载着一段私人的收集、 沾染、折叠、触摸与保存的历史。
色彩与表面再度出现，并非作为证据，而是作为残留。它们轻柔地承载着时间，如同雪落在房间里。
《雪鹿》并不试图恢复已然失去之物，而是停留于使用消退之后仍然存活的部分：褶皱、 污迹、淡去的颜色，以及那些仍在承载一种它再也无法完全容纳的生活的物件。
写于、译于那些不再接纳我的地方与时间之间。