Jingfei Ge

This is the moment I captured of my father getting into the car during a trip to Morocco this year with my parents. We were looking for a desert with golden sand, but the entire dunes were covered in green grass. In the image, the greenery on distant hills subtly hints at the surrounding environment. I rarely see cars driving into deserts, and in Morocco, taxis that can fit four people—including the driver—are typically this pale yellow. The usual way to reach the desert is by hiring a private vehicle, and these light-yellow cars have become a kind of symbol, representing the typical day-trip experience in Morocco. To this day, I still vividly remember the pale green windows against the light yellow sand.

Ducks swim lightly across the lake’s surface, and beneath the gentle ripples, faint silhouettes of flies, water plants, and human figures emerge. These images arose partly during my joyful moments, and partly during times of inner turmoil. I usually seek narrative depth in my painting subjects—so how should I confront the blurred photograph of myself from eight years ago? The figure on the right is my self-portrait of that time.

In the image, I depicted a fly on water. The fly represents a more liberated experience of life. In modern society, people escape in various ways from systems and constraints that make them feel confined and uneasy. Yet the fly can remain undisturbed in repulsive environments, unbothered by odors or the presence of others. It is precisely this ability to move through aversion that has captured my interest.

Therefore, properly confronting those things that one constantly desires yet fears is a reminder to myself.