"Nostalgically, the slow rhythm of reflective time made possible the dream of freedom ... Nostalgia is not merely an expression of local longing, but a result of a new understanding of time and space."
——The Future of Nostalgia, Svetlana Boym.
I see dioramas as containers of my fears and anxiety. Hiding inside, I'm able to look at my neighborhood from a different angle.
After being away from home for several years, I finally returned to stay with my family for a few months. Due to the pandemic, I was not allowed to leave the neighborhood, giving me plenty of time to walk around the community and the back hill. Time passed slowly during this period, blurring the boundary between reality and my nostalgic feelings.
As the project developed, I regained childhood memories and cultivated deeper feelings through a new interpretation of them.
I walked through these spots, observing the things I used to be scared of as a child and those I am still afraid of now, intending to explore the space I once knew well. Here, containers function as protective shells, holding my nostalgic fears and giving me space to think.
Overall, I created two types of creatures that I see as restricted forms of myself. The first type represents my childhood self: Sculpey dolls surrounded by darkness and trapped in a state of fear and unease.
My childhood fear of the space mainly stemmed from two elements:
- Light and Shadow: Due to the tropical climate, the corridors of the buildings in this area are not enclosed spaces but open, with numerous holes in the walls. During nighttime, lights from the hallway refract shadows and project them onto the outdoor ground. These shadows overlap with the shades of trees and envelop me.
- The Basement: The valley where I live experiences very heavy precipitation, so the management office opened a basement for children to play in when it rains. However, due to the humid air and lack of maintenance, the lights soon broke down, and mildew spots began to appear on the walls. When I was a kid, my mother always told me there were scary mold monsters living in the basement.But what really intensified my fear was an accident that happened there. A kid fell off a swing and hit his head. When I went to the basement, he had already been sent to the hospital, but a large stain of blood remained, freaking me out and causing nightmares.
The intermittent memories brought out the second form of me—a creature wriggling behind a mask; this is the current me. The anxiety initiated from reality prompted me to put on a mask.
The mask kept me safe and reduced my fear of the basement. Even now, when I stand there alone, I feel inexplicably depressed by seeing the light flashing on the moldy wall. Something eerie might hide in the dark. But now that I have a mask, I become one of those "somethings."
- The Hill Behind My Home and the Abandoned Figurine of Guanyin: This is the place I fear now. Guanyin is a gender-neutral Buddhist symbol associated with compassion, known as the god or goddess of mercy.Few people tread on the hill behind my house as there are no street lights, and it is always covered in the shadow of gigantic trees. However, I enjoy walking there, away from neighbors and noises. Its damp and dark environment makes me feel as if I am walking in a dream.One day, a few weeks ago, a figurine of Guanyin appeared on a bench on the back hill and has remained there since. It was like an uninvited guest who suddenly broke into my world. According to Chinese tradition, a Buddha statue cannot be abandoned at will; it is extremely disrespectful to the Buddha and will bring disaster to the whole family. If the statue was not purposely abandoned, then it is highly possible that unclean spirits have arisen in this area, thus requiring a Guanyin for exorcism. No matter which guess is right, it made me feel very uneasy, even afraid.This discovery made me nervous because, psychologically, the back hill no longer felt safe.
