Chen Wei Ting

"What is painting?” I often ask this question to myself, a question that constantly deconstructs and constructs my thoughts. Specifically, instinct drives me to write about these fragments of my childhood, like words and poems in my images, figurative but present. I still recall this moment in my childhood, when I was watching television and playing by myself with toys, which I still have with me, all alone in the room. Maybe, this kind of childhood experience is common in the era of declining birthrate, and some might share the same feeling—desire to be with someone and growing up without noticing the desire.