These drawings and writings were done in 4 months, during which period I had been fully indulged in this another world: I wondered back and forth the so called reality and the fantasy dimension. Eventually without any aim or guide the work turned out to be myself, but with its own life and soul. It answered itself by the help of my muscle. We are inseparable parts, like two organs breathing together. The drawing paper is the mirror, I was at this side, the world of mushroom and justice was at the other. It was abominable to tell who reflects who, who multiplies who.
Through drawing and writing, I was looking for a possible and ever changing answer as to place, memory, dream, subconscious and language, or more ambitiously speaking, the humanity.
Architecture should be no different than the rest of the world, no more divine, no more mundane. It is a harmonious organism that each part of it was waving and breathing, with no past nor future.
Chapter 1 A Love Letter
mushroom (with eyes)
justice (has eyes but blind)
moon lake
leaf
antenna forest
I am going to leave tomorrow.
Though you have stripped all my clothes,
Cigarettes that I smoke lives in the monkeys and skeletons;
I live under the crust of a mushroom.
You love me because you said I’m like a lake.
Moon Lake
I love you because you have rigid edges;
You wanted to grind me
I can see stars, I can dive into lakes,
I have eyes.
Your eyes are fixed on me
But you can’t see me.
You will rise to heaven after you die;
I will fall before I die,
Fall into the twisted root,
I will melt, becoming a leaf.
You will crack, I will disappear;
Your stomach is a square,
I’m a mushroom with eyes
You imprisoned light in columns,
I cried by the moon lake.
I saw stars,
Stars of purple rings
You locked my ash (a leaf)
Into the prison
Everybody sees me:
A leaf,
A tree.
Though you have stripped all my clothes,
Cigarettes that I smoke lives in the monkeys and skeletons;
I live under the crust of a mushroom.
You love me because you said I’m like a lake.
Moon Lake
I love you because you have rigid edges;
You wanted to grind me
I can see stars, I can dive into lakes,
I have eyes.
Your eyes are fixed on me
But you can’t see me.
You will rise to heaven after you die;
I will fall before I die,
Fall into the twisted root,
I will melt, becoming a leaf.
You will crack, I will disappear;
Your stomach is a square,
I’m a mushroom with eyes
You imprisoned light in columns,
I cried by the moon lake.
I saw stars,
Stars of purple rings
You locked my ash (a leaf)
Into the prison
Everybody sees me:
A leaf,
A tree.
Chapter 2 Bulin and His Life
bulin (mushroom that has a name)
poet
artist (incense man)
Justice
Pincer (has three fingers)
Prison
Politician
Helpers who have firm belief in hand (researchers)
f l o a t i n g l e a f
bulin (mushroom that has a name)
poet
artist (incense man)
Justice
Pincer (has three fingers)
Prison
Politician
Helpers who have firm belief in hand (researchers)
f l o a t i n g l e a f
mushroom: cave for burning incense;
justice mansion: court house;
labyrinth; candy store; inspector
justice mansion: court house;
labyrinth; candy store; inspector
—Bulin
The small mushroom’s name is Bulin, which is given by Poet.
Bulin always jumps into Poet’s brain, like an imp, making him feel an irresistible force to scream, to dance, to tear down the straight walls.
Bulin seldom smiles. But there is always a rising angle on the corner of his lips, in a subtle way making him look lonely.
Bulin’s one hair is rigid, which is a yellow chimney; greyish yellow.
He claimed that that was the reason for his name,
“ Bulin is equal to hair that is not soft.”
There are many pink speckles on his head. Salmon pink. Made of pig leather.
Smoke, blossoms of smoke, come out of his head.
He couldn’t say a word. Everything he uttered became foggy— foggy smoke, waving, flourishing.
“ Spring is a broken lotus root; potato is pillow of winter.”
Bulin lives on incense that the incense man feeds him.
He is a small poisonous mushroom. Useless.
But justice fell in love with him, at the first sight.
Love him, grind him.
Justice fell in love with a small mushroom.
The small mushroom’s name is Bulin, which is given by Poet.
Bulin always jumps into Poet’s brain, like an imp, making him feel an irresistible force to scream, to dance, to tear down the straight walls.
Bulin seldom smiles. But there is always a rising angle on the corner of his lips, in a subtle way making him look lonely.
Bulin’s one hair is rigid, which is a yellow chimney; greyish yellow.
He claimed that that was the reason for his name,
“ Bulin is equal to hair that is not soft.”
There are many pink speckles on his head. Salmon pink. Made of pig leather.
Smoke, blossoms of smoke, come out of his head.
He couldn’t say a word. Everything he uttered became foggy— foggy smoke, waving, flourishing.
“ Spring is a broken lotus root; potato is pillow of winter.”
Bulin lives on incense that the incense man feeds him.
He is a small poisonous mushroom. Useless.
But justice fell in love with him, at the first sight.
Love him, grind him.
Justice fell in love with a small mushroom.
mushroom and justice
house of poet
house of politician
house of artist
house of poet
house of politician
house of artist
—Poet
Poet has always thought Bulin was the an illusion in his head.
Sometime he controls Bulin; Sometimes Bulin controls him.
He made a leather shoe for Bulin. He told him to use it as a tooth brush.
But Bulin insisted to on wearing it to go to work.
“You little poisonous mushroom, go to work, sooner or later you will become dish on the menu.”
The heart of the poet is a translucent crystal prism, of salmon pink.
His heart was imprisoned, only liberated in dreams
He closed his eyes, becoming Bulin.
—Artist
The artist is the incense man.
He feeds his little mushroom.
He lives in many, many books.
Books of circle, books of square, books of triangle, books of purple, books of ants, books of bucket.
He loves Magritte; that is the reason he loves rose blossoms.
Better to be floating.
He took tobacco from farmer’s farm.
The smoke room is his church;
Desire is his faith
Poet has always thought Bulin was the an illusion in his head.
Sometime he controls Bulin; Sometimes Bulin controls him.
He made a leather shoe for Bulin. He told him to use it as a tooth brush.
But Bulin insisted to on wearing it to go to work.
“You little poisonous mushroom, go to work, sooner or later you will become dish on the menu.”
The heart of the poet is a translucent crystal prism, of salmon pink.
His heart was imprisoned, only liberated in dreams
He closed his eyes, becoming Bulin.
—Artist
The artist is the incense man.
He feeds his little mushroom.
He lives in many, many books.
Books of circle, books of square, books of triangle, books of purple, books of ants, books of bucket.
He loves Magritte; that is the reason he loves rose blossoms.
Better to be floating.
He took tobacco from farmer’s farm.
The smoke room is his church;
Desire is his faith
—Politician
The politician did not know how he became a politician
He has many names; he has no names.
Black eyes cannot search for the bright;
Black eyes are watching at the bright
Politician is equal to justice?
In my dreams, appeared Bulin;
I killed him; my hands were flooded with blood—
Blue blood.
My left hand was holding Bulin’s leather shoes.
I was insanely searching for the bread,
The bread was sitting on the ground
And a leaf, a flowering gun,
Tears of the poet, and gaze of the artist
I love you.
The sales numbers of bread exceeds the gun.
prison: a floating glass box and a black marble tower
—Prison
Bulin is prisoned in the glass box—
He saw his reflections
He stuck his tongue out, the reflection stuck his tongue out
He blinked, the reflection blinked,
He talked to the reflection:
“My name is Bulin, and your name is Bulin.”
Millions of millions of Bulin and Bulin.
Glass is not a piece of paper
I made a big mistake
Prison is a floating glass box.
Bulin’s hair withered
Becoming jam, not cheap.
Soaring tower of black marble
Psalmed towards Bulin
Bulin is prisoned in the glass box—
He saw his reflections
He stuck his tongue out, the reflection stuck his tongue out
He blinked, the reflection blinked,
He talked to the reflection:
“My name is Bulin, and your name is Bulin.”
Millions of millions of Bulin and Bulin.
Glass is not a piece of paper
I made a big mistake
Prison is a floating glass box.
Bulin’s hair withered
Becoming jam, not cheap.
Soaring tower of black marble
Psalmed towards Bulin
Chapter 3 Dream
two walls ( with wavy hair)
mushroom (gigantic)
justice (struggling)
poet/artist/farmer/politician (hanged)/accountant (shrank)
a group of small smiling creatures:
pawn man/candy machine/barn/drug seller/book seller/postal man
“Grandma’s house became a desert palace, the floor of which was covered with thick sand.
I opened the door of my aunt’s bedroom, there appeared a bed, covered with a white blanket with scattered yellow stains.
Frightened, how I wish to run away!
I could not find my way. The corridor was turned into a dilapidated theater.
Buried in the sand, I saw hundreds of stone dolls.”
It is a party, a parade, a carnival
A play inside a bubble, floating with wind
Just like the rampaging elevator, flying everywhere in my dream!
A rose became the nose of an elephant
Bulin won!
Everyone celebrated like nuts
It is the triumph of mushroom.
I opened the door of my aunt’s bedroom, there appeared a bed, covered with a white blanket with scattered yellow stains.
Frightened, how I wish to run away!
I could not find my way. The corridor was turned into a dilapidated theater.
Buried in the sand, I saw hundreds of stone dolls.”
It is a party, a parade, a carnival
A play inside a bubble, floating with wind
Just like the rampaging elevator, flying everywhere in my dream!
A rose became the nose of an elephant
Bulin won!
Everyone celebrated like nuts
It is the triumph of mushroom.
house of artist: books, love and smoke
study, bedroom and smoke room
study, bedroom and smoke room
Chapter 4 Dancing, Waving, Swaying, Folding
mushroom church
justice center
reptile
paradox theater
truth tower
two buckets
four back-to-back companions
confronting warriors
group of little creatures (smiling)
lonely rose bud (flying)
It would never be too late to walk into the crowd
where memory began
just as hundreds of drops of water merge into stream.
Bulin became a statue
washed by rain.
he was remembered by everyone,
a leaf, a door hinge, a brick, a shadow, a move, a twist, a sigh, a pair of leather shoes, a speckle...
some of which made sound,
some of which were silence,
some of which raised their hands,
some of which fell, sinking down
as if tears fell.
A mushroom died
becoming smoke
wriggling from every fracture
a smell of mushroom
where memory began
just as hundreds of drops of water merge into stream.
Bulin became a statue
washed by rain.
he was remembered by everyone,
a leaf, a door hinge, a brick, a shadow, a move, a twist, a sigh, a pair of leather shoes, a speckle...
some of which made sound,
some of which were silence,
some of which raised their hands,
some of which fell, sinking down
as if tears fell.
A mushroom died
becoming smoke
wriggling from every fracture
a smell of mushroom
Chapter 5 Mushroom Church and Justice Tower
four priests
(farmer, drug dealer, silk grower, leaf )
four guards
(politician, bank teller, teacher, doctor)
researchers
rose blossom
tadpole
mushroom lights (always changing colors
Farmer died.
with his grass hat on head,
Silk grower died,
with his white curtain in hand,
Drug dealer died,
with his delusion in head,
Leaf died,
with his cloudy smoke.
Four Guards were like four statues,
They winded, twisted,
they scream in silence
like huge brown stones
I have to confess
Just as I have to love to die.
Two roses
The upward is whispering
The downward is wiping.
I’m stuck, frozen, falling, creeping
The blossoming rose is soaring high
You can never reach the sky.
with his grass hat on head,
Silk grower died,
with his white curtain in hand,
Drug dealer died,
with his delusion in head,
Leaf died,
with his cloudy smoke.
Four Guards were like four statues,
They winded, twisted,
they scream in silence
like huge brown stones
I have to confess
Just as I have to love to die.
Two roses
The upward is whispering
The downward is wiping.
I’m stuck, frozen, falling, creeping
The blossoming rose is soaring high
You can never reach the sky.
justice tower; mushroom church
mushroom church
confession booth for farmer, silk grower, drug dealer and leaves
secret ears
falling and rise roses
mushsroom nave
confession booth for farmer, silk grower, drug dealer and leaves
secret ears
falling and rise roses
mushsroom nave
Interlude Oh My Tasty Little Creature
flying, staggering, wobbling, shimmering, quivering
inspector, secret cocoon. TV robot, wall hotel
justice robot
cloud tower
candy shop
glass prison of tree
farmer died in an ash burner,
so did the silk grower, the drug dealer, and the leaf
you are the man who knows my name
you are the end
The paranoid is right at the center—
Center of the world.
I heard your whispering, your mumbling, your screaming, your scratching, your breath,
your breath is the secret
the fruit,
the hanging bread
I have to dress well to be near you,
Pretending an old hand
masking a smile drawn by pencil
the other end is performing island
a leaf in the ocean!
floating, wrapped, isolated!
The flying rose bud was the flowering, as a gun,
stars fell on the ground
so did the silk grower, the drug dealer, and the leaf
you are the man who knows my name
you are the end
The paranoid is right at the center—
Center of the world.
I heard your whispering, your mumbling, your screaming, your scratching, your breath,
your breath is the secret
the fruit,
the hanging bread
I have to dress well to be near you,
Pretending an old hand
masking a smile drawn by pencil
the other end is performing island
a leaf in the ocean!
floating, wrapped, isolated!
The flying rose bud was the flowering, as a gun,
stars fell on the ground
Chapter 6 Veiling Tower and Reptile
(farmer’s, drug dealer’s, silk grower’s, leaf’s)
urn
poet (couldn’t find home)
record keeper
library doorman
the paranoid (sound-maker)
medical students
the man (who knows my name)
left: veiling tower
right: reptile
right: reptile
veiling tower: an archive
reptile: medical center
Chapter 7 Truth Tower and Paradox Theater
two wine bottles (hanged; buried)
rose blossom (floating horizontally)
two elephant nose (mirrored)
Linguistic
Nihilist
two tadpoles
paradox theater
paradox theater: performance hall;hanging bottle:secret teller
truth tower: twin tower for linguistics(left) and nihilists(right)
