I'm back in Paris - graffiti on the wall
The brilliant spring of Paris
A riot of colors is a sign that spring has arrived in Paris
The Palais de Tokyo in Paris is currently hosting a special exhibition titled 'Green Corridor' featuring emerging artists
The Musée Municipal d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris has just concluded its special exhibitions on Dutch artists Jan Dibbets and Stutevant
The second gallery on the sixth floor of the Centre Pompidou is currently hosting a retrospective exhibition of British painter Lucian Freud

I received a call from my hometown during the crisp autumn weather: “Father is critically ill and hospitalized.” It was not sudden, but entirely expected. Having long prepared for this, I had noticed his advanced age taking its toll; he frequently visited the emergency room and ICU. Though there were no specific acute symptoms, everything pointed to natural aging. During my trip to Taiwan from March to June last year for two exhibitions (including the Hou Ching-Lang Memorial Exhibition), I often visited the nursing home and hospital, witnessing his frail body gradually unable to bear the weight of life. With these concerns in mind, I returned to Paris in late June after spending a fulfilling summer, making international calls whenever possible to inquire about my father’s health, which continued to decline. Upon receiving the call, I acted naturally, without hesitation, purchasing a six-month ticket and returning to Taiwan.

Taiwan, I am back. The prodigal son returns, though time and space change, the continuous green mountains and waters remain, yet years spare no one. Returning means being by my father’s side, hoping to fulfill my duty as a son, avoiding the regret of “wanting to care for him when he is gone.” Being close to my father is like seeking to find myself, making the whole more complete and liberated. While my father is still here, I deeply feel the shelter provided by the great tree, embracing it mentally, experiencing the profound affection between father and son. This strengthens all aspects of life, making it more complete.

The call of my hometown, I have returned. In this ancestral land of family members’ lives, the frail father becomes the core of the home, gathering all his children around him. From the nursing home to the ER, from the ER to the ICU, I witnessed the lightness of a loved one’s life contrasted with the heaviness of their decaying body—so heavy that the aged frame could barely sustain it, breathing faintly. Tubes inserted into his body included respiratory and feeding tubes; machines beside him served as observation posts for vital signs. His emaciated body was skin and bone, wearing a loose blue ICU gown and an oxygen mask, resembling an astronaut embarking on a journey to heaven. Sometimes swollen and red, sometimes gasping like an ox, the air so thin, from kidney to lung failure, the situation deteriorated daily. He was almost unconscious, occasionally blinking, aware of his children nearby, with a somewhat hollow gaze, perhaps gazing at the boundless sky or connecting to the colorful rainbow of the ancestral homeland. No one knows.

Under this natural aging process, the family could not bear the burden on his frail body. Siblings also realized time would eventually come; that day could only be left to life itself to decide. Reluctant to let our elderly, disabled father continue to bear the physical weight, we decided to forego emergency resuscitation—meaning we did not wish to prolong his remaining life through external intervention. In other words, a tracheotomy. After I signed the waiver form, two days later, my comatose father was transferred to a general ward. We were clear that situations might arise continuously, so we paid closer attention to his progress. Life had reached this critical moment; we were all by his side, caring and observing carefully, contemplating the completeness of life. Finally, on January 22nd, when dawn’s glow penetrated the night clouds, surrounded by us siblings, we witnessed my father leave this world, having completed his life at the age of ninety-four. With our heartfelt thanks, love, gratitude, and infinite blessings, we drew the period at the end of his life.

Next, under the cooperative division of labor among siblings, we handled my father’s affairs. On the native soil of my hometown, we held a simple yet solemn farewell ceremony, concluding this rite of life amidst the remembrance of relatives and friends. Having lived abroad for a long time, I felt reassured knowing my father was carefully cared for by my eldest brother and younger brother in rotation. Of course, I am deeply grateful for their care; this kindness I can never fully repay. For nearly ten years, I have returned to Taiwan whenever free, visiting relatives and developing my personal art, trying to stay close to my father. Although we spoke little between father and son, I deeply felt this strong affection. Over these years, I made many visual records of my father; now they are vivid before my eyes. This eternal father-son bond has transformed my entire life, becoming a lifetime of gratitude and blessing.

Living in my hometown for nearly six months, I was fortunate to accompany my father until the completion of his life. This allowed me to delve deep into life, meet life, and witness life. During this period, I also witnessed human “love,” coming from a place with mountains and water, a world of righteousness and emotion. I delved inward to experience this most beautiful energy of the human world.

The call of my hometown makes me miss it more, makes me homesick, makes me unable to control my emotions. My hometown has changed me; I am no longer a prodigal son, I have a heart that belongs somewhere. On the other side of heaven, there is someone I cherish. Wind, mountains, clouds, and water know my heart. Roaming in a foreign land, it becomes my home; knowing my home, knowing my hometown, finding life, finding love, finding laughter from the depths of my heart, letting art shine and allowing life to grow, realizing the meaning of existence.

Paris – I’m back. Colorful and brilliant spring, fresh green treetops, dazzling flowers, bright light, a unique Parisian atmosphere surrounds me, unfolding joyful smiles as if welcoming me back. The city of flowers, both strange and familiar, remains so natural. Charming Paris is still there, but my heart has already docked on the edge of the world, where my thoughts reside, of course, in the place with wind, mountains, clouds, and water.

Paris is still Paris, enchanting and charming, but my heart has gone elsewhere. Life has reached a turning point; I must bear the weight of life and the lightness of art. Growth changes perspectives on all things; I am entering a new adventure. Paris, my beloved lover, stop joking. The volcanic eruption in Iceland was not accidental; all existence is nurturing new life. An unprecedented energy is flowing. Life’s growth is a continuing adventure, not slowly growing old in comfort. As Oshu said in his book: “Life – should not just be getting old, it must grow. Love – is the joyous dance of your life; to love is to experience the most beautiful space within yourself. Laughter – brings strength; laughter draws some energy from your inner source to your surface, energy begins to flow. Laughter is as sacred as prayer” (This passage comes from the book Life, Love, and Laughter).