It is a photo book named “For the incomplete completion” curated and designed for a collection of my own photographs produced during some snowy days.

It all began with a bowl I accidentally broke. I paused and then opened the cabinet, where lay a cup that I stored from a year ago, which also fell into two parts. I didn’t throw any of them away because I saw something breeding in those shards.

There is a traditional Japanese art of repairing called “Kintsugi.” The fragmented ceramic that is put back together receives painful yet glamorous golden marks at where the joinery happens. I regard those marks as laurels of incompleteness. Only when such incompleteness is experienced can one achieve even more pleasant completion. I recorded such spiritual power through photography.

However, on the other side, I offered photos of a parking lot looking right down from a window next to my working desk. It thus became a daily activity to photograph it. Light, weather, cars, traffic cones, small posts, even cracks on the ground — every of these symbiotic existence performs incompletion and completion. The shadows come and go, lights on and off, cars’ footprints kept by the snow, cracks covered and revealed...