我们唯一的向导只有乡愁
Our Only Guidance is Our Homesickness
The Diary of Youliang
March 2023
Pictures of my mother and grandmother They are both petite women, yet everyone in the family believes my tall stature is inherited from their lineage.
Everyone thinks that once my grandmother passes away, they will demolish the garden on the ground floor. The workers don't even care if they spray paint on the leaves of the plants she nurtures. There's also this range hood. No one has cleaned it since my grandfather passed away, and it has accumulated a lot of grease.
In this ordinary courtyard, I suddenly realized that I have grown into a taller tree compared to them. However, it is my mother and grandmother who bear the burden of the family and tradition because the house is small and the trees are not allowed to grow freely.
As for me, I will continue to grow taller and break through the ceiling of the concept of a Chinese home.
I suddenly remember the story of when I left home. Three years ago today, in the middle of the night, I went out and got myself a piercing. I didn't want my mother to find out, so I booked an early morning flight. At 5 a.m. She was half awake, so I went to her room and hugged her for a moment. Until now, I haven't seen her for exactly three years. Every time I argue with her and think back to that dim and perfunctory farewell, I deeply regret it.
You Liang mostly works with photography, installation and publications are her preferred mediums to approach art. She is a member of the collective Pearl Slug Studio and founder of Raging magazine. You Liang has attempted to touch and tell the journeys of migration and nomadism, the black hole of death, as well as mothers and childhood songs. Her work is a response to subconscious and collective memory, a living room for a tear that needs no explanation.