When the Paint Cracked, Something Became Clear
This series started by accident.
It was 2021. I was painting on my balcony in the middle of summer. The heat was intense, and the paint — left out in the open — dried faster than expected. Some of it began to crack.
I didn’t try to fix it.
Instead, I kept painting. And slowly, the cracked surface started to feel like something.
What “Dryness” Means
The Chinese name for this series — 乾涸焦土 — refers to parched, cracked earth. Land that has been dried out completely. The kind of ground that splits open under long heat.
It sounds extreme. But for me, it was never about despair.
It was about a particular feeling I recognised — the sensation of being in a place that feels stuck, dried out, uncertain. And the slow realisation that even cracked ground still holds.
The works in this series are built up in layers.
Acrylic paint is applied thickly — sometimes deliberately so — and left to dry. In the heat, or over time, parts of the surface crack on their own. I don’t correct this. The cracks stay.
Xuan paper is pressed into the surface, adding another layer of fragile texture. Underneath, the paint accumulates — sediment, almost. Evidence of time passing.
The dark areas in these paintings tend to be small. When you look at the whole canvas, there’s usually much more space, much more colour, than the dark parts suggest.
That became the quiet centre of this series.
What I Was Going Through
At the time, I was looking for my direction as an artist.
It wasn’t dramatic — no crisis, no breaking point. Just the ordinary uncertainty of not quite knowing where things were going. A kind of internal dryness.
The paintings became a way of sitting with that feeling rather than pushing past it. The cracked surfaces, the layered marks — they weren’t problems to solve. They were just what was happening.
And gradually, something shifted.
A Note on the Name
Dryness Series sounds stark. And 乾涸焦土 — scorched, cracked earth — sounds even more so.
But I think of this series as quietly positive.
Because dryness is a condition, not a conclusion. The ground that cracks under heat can also hold seeds. The surface that splits open is still a surface — still there, still present.
If you look at the whole painting, not just the dark corner, there’s usually a lot of space left.
The First Works to Be Collected
Several pieces from this series were collected at my first solo exhibition.
At the time, I was more moved than I expected. Not because they sold — but because it felt like something was beginning. Like a line had started to appear.
Looking back, I think the Dryness Series was the moment I stopped waiting to feel ready and just kept working.