When was the last time you swung on a swing? The first time I did, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Whether it was joy or fear, it was a mix of both emotions.
Entering the Mountains
A single steel plate, large enough for an aircraft carrier, is cut into two sections—one rounded, the other sharp, arranged for three or four. They support each other, standing tall like a giant stone stage—at times sturdy, at times delicate.
The simple act of two children swinging transforms into a captivating spectacle. The surrounding hard ground and roads hint at danger, while the nearby river scenery offers a calm, inviting contrast, creating a palpable tension. The person pushing the swing and the one swinging complete this shared experience—a journey from tranquility to romance, from relaxation to recklessness—each embracing their own indulgence in the moment.
It is this very tension—danger intertwined with restraint—that draws us closer. The more dangerous it feels, the more alluring it becomes; and the more alluring, the more dangerous it feels.
Child
Between tenderness and roughness, we swing on the swing, becoming children once again—laughing and shouting with abandon. The tension helps us detach from restless realities, while freedom awakens our innocent lightness. I cherish this lightness, like the gentle breeze under the moonlight.
Love and hate can coexist. If love expands the breadth of life, perhaps hate digs into its depths. Both are necessary and addictive.
Chushan
I often say my luck is just average, yet I rely on it to become who I am.
Meeting someone is luck; missing someone is about timing. These truths often reveal themselves only in hindsight. Looking back, there were subtle signs and arrangements—perhaps fate itself. When every encounter feels familiar, it may be a sign we’re growing older.
The two people on the swing share this fate—they cannot meet with the wrong timing, direction, or force. Though it may seem uncertain, their meeting is destined. Sometimes we become entangled by our own actions, sometimes pushed by others. Once the swing begins, its movement determines whether they meet or miss each other. No effort can alter the course, direction, or fate.
Thank you for the meeting. Through conversation, we find mutual success.
How long will it last? Time and the earth’s forces have been gently swinging us, slowly stabilizing, bringing calm. Though we may resist, eventually the swing will stop, fading away, leaving only traces in our memories.
Fortunately, we once met—like the autumn moon and winter snow.
Happiness is in our meetings—clear blossoms and scattered rain.
I had hoped that when the two people on the swing met simultaneously, a cloud would rise over the mountains. But sadly, the moment was not yet ripe.
Not Going Into the Mountains
To me, love isn’t about companionship or passion. It’s the oil in sorrow, the flowers in joy, cigarette ash falling from great heights, and laughter echoing through deep valleys. Yet, you don’t belong to me, and I don’t belong to you.
The intersection of sadness and joy completes life.
Project Information
Project: Shanghai Urban Space Art Season “Children Entering the Mountains”
Year: 2023
Location: Shanghai, West Coast
Design: Big Material Architecture — Liu Yang, Hu Yiwei, Sun Xinye
Production: Baoding Fangzhou Yuan Sculpture Crafts Manufacturing Co., Ltd
Photography: Zhu Yumeng, Tian Fangfang, Luo Yujie, Liu Yang
Video: Zhu Yumeng (Material); Large Scale Construction (Production); BGM: “Love of a Lifetime” by Lu Guanting & Karen Mok
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