In Chinese mythology, the concept of "Chaos" (Hundun) is primordial. It is found in the theories of space-time and, most notably, in the myth of Pangu creating the world. The earliest record of this appears in the Sanwu Liji
(Historical Records of the Three Sovereign Divinity) by Xu Zheng in the late Eastern Han Dynasty:
"Heaven and earth were chaotic like a chicken’s egg, and Pangu was born within. For eighteen thousand years, heaven and earth opened up; the clear Yang became the sky, and the turbid Yin became the earth... The sky grew ten feet high per day, the earth grew ten feet thick per day, and Pangu grew ten feet taller per day... Thus, heaven is ninety thousand li from the earth."
"Heaven and earth were chaotic and turbid." Taking this myth as my point of departure—specifically the rupturing of that chaotic sphere and the separation of the clear from the turbid—I developed my concept of rendering objects into "chaos." This manifests through blurred rocks and the traces of plants captured via long-exposure photography.
The eternity of time renders human labor futile, while the totality of chaos plunges humanity into bewilderment. Looking back at past eras, only the traces left by our predecessors remain for our gaze. As the stars shift and seasons change, this cycle repeats, generation after generation.
Yet, when I step into a forest, a city, or a beach—seeing vegetation swaying in the wind, crowds surging through intersections, or sea foam vanishing into the sand—I see more than just the unknown. While these scenes appear filled with randomness and chaos, what they reveal to me is akin to the Lorenz attractor: a pattern of tightly interconnected lines, inseparable and bound together.