I know I’ve been chasing a light.
I no longer recall its appearance—whether it’s strong or weak, real or imaginary.
Does it resemble a girl’s smile, or an old woman’s wrinkle?
I only remember that it lingers in my mind, flashing solely at me.
It is a city light, one that represents everyone’s desire.
Everyone goes after this ray of light, yet fails to touch it.
I pray for darkness to fall so I can gaze into my light from afar.
Every night I look forward to another nightfall, because I only belong to the night.
I’m getting closer tonight.
I create this set of work with the alternative printing process—gum bichromate print, which delves into the reality of urban isolation. The images were six-month documentary research on nocturnal movements of lights around my home. For me, lights are traces of human activity. It is also the breath of a city. With the rhythm ups and downs, revealing the movement of the town. When the night falls, people retreat to their private spaces, isolated but indeed are connected by the sight of strange shining lights. There are voyeuristic images of stranger’s windows, LED timepieces in the centre of the park, scattered lights, and the moon; all these illuminations expose the coexistence of solitude and physical proximity in Hong Kong.