Within the flow, to see

Within a context where male intimacy in China is scrutinized, I temporarily left my family with my partner and came to London. Using snapshots and self-portraits, I explore intimacy as a way to trace identity, emotion, and personal history.

Within China's social context, when two men display intimate behaviour in public spaces of certain smaller cities, it often triggers a complex and contradictory viewing experience: astonishment, curiosity, bewilderment, and sometimes an ineffable tinge of envy. This gaze is not singularly dismissive or hostile, but rather a hesitant scrutiny oscillating between societal norms and personal sentiment—revealing both the invisibility of sexual minorities in public spaces and the scarcity and suppression of emotional expression within mainstream narratives.

Having grown up within a traditional family structure, I have long endured my parents' expectations regarding marriage and the ‘normal trajectory of life,’ yet I have never been able to disclose my sexual orientation to them. In a social environment where intimate relationships are implicitly understood as part of the heteronormative system, emotions are not merely private experiences but existences that must be concealed, negotiated, and even self-censored. Under this persistent tension, I chose to leave my original living environment with my partner and move to London to continue my studies—this was not only a geographical migration but also an attempt to temporarily detach from East Asian family structures and social conditioning.

Over the past year, I have employed a film camera to capture candid snapshots, persistently documenting my partner's daily states; simultaneously, through self-portraits, I have framed us both within the same visual plane. These images are not intended as commemorative portraits or emotional affirmations, but rather approach a conscious practice of ‘gazing’. I deliberately place our intimacy within a field of observation, allowing it to be reproduced, confronted, and scrutinised. In this process, intimacy ceases to be merely a private exchange of emotion and instead becomes a gentle assertion of visibility and the right to exist.

In a society where heterosexuality is the default structure, the emotions of sexual minorities are often forced into hidden spaces: avoided within families, overlooked in public domains, diluted or even erased from images and narratives. Through imagery, I continually affirm our existence—not through defiance or proclamation, but by gradually occupying a space not originally reserved for us, within the everyday, the fragile, and the repetitive. This practice seeks not to provoke conflict, but to loosen norms through the act of gazing, generating a possibility for inclusion in the very moment of being seen.

To me, emotional relationships flow like water—ever-shifting, formless, directionless. They alter temperature, velocity, and course without warning, their instability leaving me perpetually poised between contentment and unease. Intimacy brings closeness and solace, yet constantly exposes our vulnerability and uncertainty; it offers security while simultaneously testing the boundaries of emotion, identity, and self. I choose to confront all this through the lens—not to control emotions, but to coexist with them, listening to the faint murmurs they emit amidst their flux.

Each press of the shutter feels like a quiet affirmation to my present self: even if everything will eventually change, in this very moment, it is already happening. Regardless of where this relationship may ultimately lead, and regardless of how societal contexts continue to intervene and exert influence, these images have become part of my personal history. They serve both as a visual record of an intimate relationship and as an ongoing chronicle of the emotional experiences and identity formation of a sexual minority individual, as well as my relationship with the world—a chronicle of persisting existence amidst uncertainty and seeking one's place within flux.