这组作品源于一次真实又神奇的创作经历。回忆那一晚，我仿佛独自面对了一种此前未曾觉察、却始终潜伏于意识之下的情绪与感知。它们在某一刻不可阻挡地翻涌上来，形成一种近乎“风暴”的状态。房间里只有我一个人，我不得不直面它的发生。起初是害怕，随后转为一种难以描述的“痛”。这种感受并非生理性的疼痛，却真实地在身体中游移、扩散。随着创作的展开，我逐渐放弃了思考层面的控制——不再依赖既有的绘画经验或形式判断，而完全依靠一种极端迅速且明确的直觉。几乎在每一次下笔的瞬间之前，选择已经完成。在这个过程中，图像与文字同时发生。它们并不是彼此解释的关系，而更像是同一冲动的不同显现——一边是线条与形状，一边是语言的片段。写下的句子没有修辞，也不遵循逻辑，但却以一种必然的方式被排列出来。每一笔落下都伴随着“痛”，但这种痛并非负面的，而更接近一种释放与贯通。随着过程推进，这种强度逐渐减弱，直至风暴平息。完成的那一刻，我意识到自己并没有脱离它，而是曾短暂地置身其中，并与之形成某种共振。对我而言，这并不是一次表达，而更像是一种激烈的反射——一种来自内部的、未经筛选的能量，在图像与语言中同时显现的过程。

This series emerged from a profoundly real and almost mystical creative encounter. That night, I found myself confronting emotions and perceptions that had long been latent beneath the surface of awareness. At a certain moment, they surged forth with unstoppable force, coalescing into a state that resembled a storm. Alone in the room, I had no choice but to face it.At first, there was fear, which then transformed into a sensation of “pain”—not physical, yet undeniably present, coursing and spreading through the body. As the work progressed, I gradually relinquished all control over thought and conventional judgment—abandoning reliance on prior painting experience or formal rules—and instead fully followed an instinct both immediate and precise. Each brushstroke was already decided before it fell.Throughout this process, image and language arose simultaneously. They did not explain each other, but rather manifested as two expressions of the same impulse—one through line and form, the other through fragmented language. The words written were unadorned, unstructured, yet they appeared in an inevitable order.Each stroke carried a measure of “pain,” though this pain was not negative; it was closer to release and flow. Over time, the intensity gradually subsided until the storm abated.At the moment of completion, I realized I had not escaped it, but had briefly immersed myself within it, resonating with it. For me, this was not an act of expression, but a vivid reflection—a raw, unfiltered energy emerging simultaneously in image and language.


日记节选（毕竟我最擅长在纸上大喊大叫）：回忆起那天晚上的经历，就好像是独自一人面对了之前从未觉察且深埋在我意识之下的膨胀汹涌的情绪和感知。有什么东西不可阻挡地我脚下翻涌了上来，此时房间里只有我一个人，我不得不面对这样的风暴。一开始是害怕，然后感觉到痛。（不过这里的痛不是生理上的但我却能感受到，体感在我上半身游离，具体没法说清在哪块）然后我就开始无意识换言之纯粹靠直觉涂画和打字。（之所以不用画画和写作这两个词，是因为我觉得并不贴切，那时候我像是在半疏导半倾吐的创作）我很清楚的知道那个时候我并没有“思考”——这里指我在艺术方面学的专业知识（色彩对比，构成等等）但我也不是胡乱下笔的，几乎在下笔的前0.001秒就做出了判断，像是有什么绝对的直觉。那时候每一笔下去都觉得痛继而酣畅。越往后痛是越递减的。甚至有两次下笔我身体都颤抖哆嗦了一下。那时候的状态就是画两笔又突然记两句，写出来的东西毫无遣词造句的道理，但我就是想这么排列这些文字。没有为什么。文字和图画几乎是同时完成的，也一气呵成。完成之后我只觉得风暴停止了，然后我安然无恙。全程只有我的猫猫趴在我身后陪伴我。 这里的痛不是痛苦或许它是一种别的什么感觉我很难找到合适的词句去描述，也不要用寻常对待痛的感知去看待它。或许可以说，这是一次激烈的反射。 这里的风暴也不是危险（至少目前我觉得不危险）我只是想借用这个词来描述当晚我感受到的磅礴，甚至是一种丰沛。 目前为止我只出现过两次这样的纯直觉创作状态，第一次的时候还是22年在家做Norkii的某一晚，也是一次突破。（很可惜当时没有记录，只是最后拍了一下自己画完之后右手）这两次的状态虽然相似但截然不同——那次感受到的都是向上的能量，做出来的东西也是近乎绝对的正向。这次的能量是有一种撕裂感，感觉会相较上一次危险很多，但能量从丰富程度以及力道上都要大很多。 记得过后不久我试图跟朋友描述：后来我好像直接站在风暴里和它融为一体了 虽然好多事情都弄不明白，但我想我一定要诚实的先记录下来。2025.5.19

Excerpt from my diary (after all, my strongest expression is shouting on paper):Recalling that night feels like I was alone, facing emotions and sensations that I had never noticed before but had always been deeply buried in my consciousness. Something surged uncontrollably beneath my feet, rising up; at that moment, I was the only one in the room, and I had to confront this storm. At first, it was fear, then a sense of pain. (This pain was not physical, yet I could feel it, wandering through my upper body—its exact location is indescribable.)
Then I started creating unconsciously—purely relying on intuition, painting and typing. (I avoid using the words “drawing” or “writing” because they don’t quite fit; it was more like a semi-release, semi-expression of creation.) I was fully aware that I was not “thinking”—not in the sense of the artistic knowledge I had studied (color, composition, etc.)—but I also wasn’t scribbling blindly. Almost before the tip of my pen touched the surface, a decision had been made, as if guided by absolute intuition.
Each stroke carried pain, yet also exhilaration. As the process continued, the intensity of the pain gradually diminished. Twice, my body even trembled slightly as I moved the pen. The state was such that I would paint a couple of strokes, then suddenly record a couple of lines of text. The sentences made no grammatical or stylistic sense, but I simply wanted to arrange the words that way. There was no reason. The text and images were created almost simultaneously, in a single continuous flow. Once finished, I felt the storm had subsided, and I was unharmed. Throughout the process, my cat quietly lay behind me, keeping me company.
The pain here is not suffering—it is perhaps something else entirely, something for which I cannot find a suitable word. It should not be interpreted in the usual way we perceive pain. Perhaps it can be called an intense reflex.
The storm was not dangerous (at least, I currently feel it wasn’t). I only borrow this word to describe the overwhelming and abundant sensation I experienced that night. Until now, I have entered this pure intuitive creative state only twice. The first time was in 2022, at home, one night while working on Norkii—a breakthrough as well. (Unfortunately, it wasn’t documented, except for a photo of my right hand after finishing.)
Although these two states were similar, they were entirely different. The first time, the energy felt upward, positive, almost absolute. This time, the energy carried a sense of tearing, seemingly more dangerous, but far greater in intensity and force.
Not long after, I tried to describe it to a friend: it felt as if I had directly stood within the storm and merged with it.
Though much remains unclear, I want to be honest and document this first.May 19, 2025