Animal World

My father's body weakened day by day. We knew that day was coming near, but no one panicked. What will come will come; what must be done must be done. Relatives continued to come every day, bringing food, singing, holding his hand and speaking to him. This calm is not indifference. It is the composure with which Naxi people face life and death — a belief that the soul has somewhere to go, that farewells can be taken slowly.

The farewell to my father was cruel and beautiful — unlike the farewell to my mother.

For six months, the artist stopped all creative work and devoted himself entirely to caring for his dying father. At the same time, he recorded daily life in charcoal: the state of his father regressing to a three-year-old child — the details of feeding, changing diapers, assisting with bodily functions — alongside the process of building a kitchen, a bedroom, and a garden for his father with his own hands.

This is a record that cannot be called a "work." It is the most honest emotional archive.