Similarly, in Xiaowei’s work, we find references to idyllic agrarian life – the ‘rural romance’ juxtaposed with stark representations of modernity. His photographs create impressions that weave together collective memories and sights of the outside world – landscapes, architecture and cultural insignia. With a surrealist undertone, these seemingly incongruous elements come together as montages, tapestries or a bric-a-brac of experiences. Folkloric symbols and Chinese proverbs evoke a sense of cultural heritage and wisdom, yet they stand in contrast to contemporary themes of fast fashion, consumerism and state surveillance. This ‘compression’ reveals how visual experiences, perception and memories can layer within the mind: these photographs are projections of a kind of psychic ‘flash’ or ‘multifaceted dramas’, as the artist titles one of his chapters.

Like my own work, I see them as mental inscapes where perceptions exist in shallow, flat spaces, allowing the viewer to peer into the depths of their own psyche. Perhaps this is what the artist is referring to in the title of this book, Spacing Memories. The concept of ‘spacing’, suggested by the title of Xiaowei’s collection, explores the psychological distance between fragmented memories (or ‘ruins’, as the artist might call them) and also suggests a deep relationship between the act of remembering and the medium of photography. Photographs become vessels for memory, capturing fleeting moments and emotions that resonate across time and space, akin to ‘ruins’, as highlighted in Section Two.

But what else renders these photographs as ‘psychological’? It is their ability to transcend straightforward depictions of reality. They evoke inner qualities of the mind and personal experience, as abstract elements blur the boundaries between external and internal experiences. For instance, in Prisoner Dance (《 囚舞 》)(2020) on p. 36, the dark, abstract figure against a cracked and textured backdrop evokes feelings of entrapment and disintegration rather than merely mimicking natural phenomena. The figure, resembling a butterfly with parts missing, symbolises transformation or the struggle for freedom. Similarly, in The Outcast’s Competition (《受排挤的竞争》)(2019–23) on p. 26, dynamic light trails against a shadowy background intensifying feelings of confusion and estrangement.

As a photographer and artist for over fifty years, my raison d’être has always been to reveal hidden, repressed and elusive parts of the psyche, and I resonate with Xiaowei’s capacity to surface such unsettling truths – hidden desires or fears. The artist’s childhood terror of fireflies, evident in Get Rid of Those Shiny Bugs (《赶走 那些闪光的虫子》) (see p. 22), for instance, symbolises associations with death and the unknown, serving as metaphors for deeper psychological states within a fast- paced, technologically driven society. In one haunting scene, a doorman sits at a stark white table with three clocks, symbols of unfulfilled life and expectations. Another portrays a face overlooked by dispersed goldfish, who, in an existential entrapment, are ‘always looking for something’. The eerie or uncanny sense of imprisonment, of being ‘watched’, is evoked in the sight of a woman who bears puppeteer handles and, in the background, a man being tube-fed like a pet, as well as a solitary figure who walks through a narrow door set into a tall, curved concrete wall with strong shadows stretching across the lower part of it.

Further, the presence of absurdity in Xiaowei’s work is what renders it particularly disturbing, unsettling, and psychologically provocative. The irrational and out-of- place elements create tension and humour, disrupting our sense of order. In The Feast of the Gods (《 众神之宴》) (see p. 75), for example, traditional statues are interrupted by a cartoonish cat, juxtaposing sacred traditions with modern consumerism. Similarly, Torture, on pp. 64–65, depicts figures wearing animal masks, evoking alienation and the struggle for personal identity in the face of societal control. The prevalence of masks in different forms – from clowns to facial paper covers to animal heads – heeds a profound sense of otherness and outsiderness that has always perplexed and captivated me.

Ultimately, Xiaowei’s work admirably embodies the complexities of modern Chinese culture, revealing the interplay between tradition and progress, absurdity and reality, within the framework of collective memory. Through this lens, I find not only kinship with the artist but also a mirror reflecting my own artistic journey.

As I continue to explore the depths of memory, I am reminded of the power of photography as a medium that transcends time and space, capturing the ephemeral essence of our experiences and emotions. One needs to travel deep into oneself to take a picture – into the dark and subterranean – and Xiaowei has taken me there. I think of the words of the Tang Dynasty Chinese poet and painter Wang Wei, who wrote: ‘In the mountains, there are always things to enjoy; in the valley, there are always things to see.’