I’ve had a paradoxical sensation of the relationship between humans and nature for a long while. Admittedly, human beings have the inborn intimacy with nature: for one, humans, as a group, grew up in nature; for another, people, as individuals, yearn for the fascination of nature.

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However, the alienation of humans and nature cannot be mitigated. For one, the premise of closest contact is that the true nature exists – nature without any human intervention or evidence of fabrication. In the modern world, it is almost impossible to find out such “nature”. For another, human’s appreciations of nature are largely influenced by the existing works, which include predecessors’ paintings, drawings, or photos. At least for me, appreciating the nature without any aesthetic standard (which is built by others) is impossible. Only by using flashlights and touching the piece viewers can get some indirect information of the context behind the silk. What I’m feeling about myself as a human is just like the stamp on the surface – always stays there but never touches the real textures.