I used to live with Grandma when I was small. There was a cubic pond made of bricks and tiles in her kitchen. On top of the pond was a tap. Water accumulated into the pond drop by drop as Grandma kept the tap barely switched on to save water fee. She passed away in 2013 at the age of 107.

 

Ever since there has always been a basin of water under the tap in the kitchen at my home. This habit of accumulating tap water never halts. The sound of dripping water can be clearly heard at midnight. My father uses that basin of water to cook and wash the vegetables and dishes, among other kitchen routines.

 

Looking for the whereabouts of water while drifting around the city is a never-ending business. I try to follow its “footsteps” and watch it flow from a low angle; I observe the landscape where water is present, how water and people get along, and how water reflects the landscape as well as the traces of people’s lives. I look for the traces of water as I wander around the city’s streets, back alleys, and parks, along the riverside and the seaside. I then collect them, filter them, bottle them and present them.

 

The collection of water is a collection of the cityscape and the lives of the people immersed in this city.