Writing City

2020〈蟻生〉
2020〈蟻生〉

23.5x23.5cm

2020〈草地〉
2020〈草地〉

23.5x23.5cm

2020〈口罩〉
2020〈口罩〉

23.5x23.5cm

2020〈蟻生〉
2020〈蟻生〉

23.5x23.5cm

1/7

I still remember when I was young, there were sand and grass around to play with. As children, we dig sand holes, throw sand balls, and build castles until I get dirty before returning home. 

Today is the alley entrance; tomorrow is the end of the alley; the day after tomorrow is the door of the neighbour's house.

One day, the sand piles disappeared and became the asphalt road. 

The adults said they need to ride a bike to get where one wishes to go at once. I too made a wish.

Years went by, and the skyline turned greyish as there are more cars on the road, I cannot ride a bicycle anymore. I do not wish anymore. If the city has life, she has changed from a sandy paradise to a metropolis where millions of people commute.  

Remembers that dirty child? How I wish to have fewer cars, fewer people, and quieter! 

While sliding my smartphone, the news said that the city is about to closed down, soon we have to practice social distancing, and wearing masks. 

Is that another wish come true?

Keywords: city, memory, Coronavirus, ants, disappearance

Artist: Chang, Yu-Chuan

2020〈口罩〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈口罩〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈空污〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈空污〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈柏油路〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈柏油路〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈蟻生〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈蟻生〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈社交距離〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈社交距離〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈封城〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈封城〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm

2020〈草地〉23.5x23.5cm.jpg

〈草地〉

2020, 23.5x23.5cm