The Millet Drops Head

The millet drops head;

The sorghum is in sprout.

Slowly I trudge and tread;

My heart is tossed about.

Those who know me will say

My heart is sad and bleak;

Those who don't know me may

Ask me for what I seek.

O boundless azure sky,

Who's ruined the land and why?

----The Ruined Capital, Book of Songs

My project The Millet Drops Head is a response to the Traditional Poems Meditating on the Past. They were taken in Xi'an, China. Xi'an is the capital of many dynasties in ancient China, with a history of thousands of years. Due to regime change, most of the architecture in ancient times have been destroyed and leaving only ruins. For such a monumental city, ruins were material remains of history and often inspired poets' and artists' contemplation of the Past. I have sought out these places of nothingness, repeatedly transformed by human beings, in an attempt to complete the reconstruction of the fragments of history.