Lili’s home

Flip book video

Hand-crafting process video

“Lili’s Home” is a photography and visual art book I created in 2025. Its creative inspiration grew from my first trip abroad that year. During my travels in Southeast Asia, I took many photographs and later gradually organized them along with numerous pictures I had taken before, eventually editing them into this book. The book’s overarching tone is black, its fiery pulse aligning with the scars on my arm.

Pine

我们的影子印在山和海的间隙之中—面对接壤处的一片石滩，东边的太阳爬到我们头顶的斜上方，晒得叫人脸发红。这片海从未如此闪耀，星星点点的光斑乘着凛冽的南海风晃啊晃，晃啊晃..好像要让人迷醉在那一时刻——只是这风啊，过于凛冽了，盖住了太阳热烈的灼光，单单头发烫，握着铲子的手却冻得僵硬。于是我们的哀伤也开始颤颤悠悠。

只是曼特宁是为何去世，我至今不明白。

他就直直地躺在我面前，一具僵直的肢体，双目没有闭上，腹部不再起伏。直到我们开始抱头痛哭，直到剧烈的情感充斥了这间不到十平米的房间，直到你哭到虚脱，直到对着那具尸体的双目肿胀、无神，直到我们为他梳毛，为他洗澡，为他擦去失禁的粪便和地上的呕吐物。

曼特宁的腿那么直，身体也不再柔软。他的躯体像一只小马，直直地躺在地毯上，一动也不动，瞳孔像钢针一样盯着某处，蓬松的毛发也随着呼吸的停止塌了下来。

只是曼特宁停止呼吸的一瞬间，不再挣扎的场景一直在我的脑海里反复地重演、重演。

我们在五月左右来到崂山，待了一两个月，我开始准备写《崂山手记》，可是又过了半年，我也只写下寥寥几行。曼特宁去世的前几个月，姗姗一直说着要给小猫咪们拍写真，而等到我真正开始重视这件事的时候，曼特宁已经去世了。

我把在崂山的日子记录下的影像真理成册，那些影像之间，每一处都联系着对曼特宁的回忆。这本书献给曼特宁，最可爱的小猫，我们的孩子，难以忘却的爱与希望。

Stratum

“Stratum” is a series of photographs selected from Chapter IX of my visual art book “Lili’s Home.”

The title “Stratum” refers to geological layers formed by rock, sediment, or loose deposits—structures shaped by nature over time.

These works source from photos I took between 2020 and 2025, blended through layered compositions. They embody my splintered senses under medication and physical therapy, and the stratified emotions cycled through bipolarity.

In 2019, I was diagnosed with cyclothymic disorder, also known as bipolar disorder or manic depression—a condition where mental states oscillate in relentless seasonal or cyclical waves.

To this day, I witness countless teenagers sent from schools to psychiatric wards. Under academic pressure, parents often rush to “cleanse” stigmatized illnesses like depression or OCD from their children. First comes therapy, then hospitalization and medication. When drugs fail, parents—as legal guardians—authorize physical procedures for their minor children. Unnoticed, many of us lose our right to express.

This “treatment” requires general anesthesia before channeling electricity directly into the brain. Parents are told it stabilizes moods, but at the cost of temporary amnesia. I knew nothing until wheeled into the procedure room. After seven rounds of electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), each lasting thirty minutes, I lost swathes of memory. Streets of my hometown felt foreign. It took me five years to reclaim these memories, most of which I spent expressionless.

ECT stole my past. I pressed the shutter through emotional numbness, layer upon layer merging into images that mirror my fractured psyche—where dreams, memories, and reality collide.

News of fellow patients’ suicides reminds me: most of us are rendered voiceless. Many now breathe through the weight of a lifetime of silences. The mentally ill are often objects observed and defined by others; viewers gaze at images of us with voyeuristic fascination. Our expressions are too raw, too intense, too intimate to be contained—so I cloak images, hiding and slamming these emotions against the unspeakable.

Each piece is named after a moment frozen in its composite photos: endless layered days and nights where my emotions materialize in singular frames. Blending them births my “Stratum“—an overlapping of my subjective reality, a scream of rage against imposed silences from a mind refusing to be silenced.