Charles River

Sep, 19

——–8:00am home

I am trying to trace the movement of the sunlight

In my room, all the space around

Now the sun

Falls onto my pillow

In a shape of parallelogram

In corn-silk, and blanched almond

The texture of the cloth seems to be fluffier

 

——–10:45am home

The sky is in pale blue

High and high into the heaven

It is brighter near the horizon

And a little stronger at the top

The clouds are white, I think

They bathe in a slightly warm yellow tone

Underneath which the trees fall into dark sea green

While the trees close to me are brighter and in a warmer tone

The color and height and temperature

Remind me a childhood autumn morning

in the temple hidden in the deep west mountain

The moment of leaves rustling in the sunny warm breeze

 

——–12:10pm home

I look at the shutters bathing in the strong sunlight

At both left and right sides there are shadows of two inches

The left shadows are greener

While the right ones are pinker

The sunlit pieces are translucent

Expressing the texture of the dust

Tracing its historic relationship with condensate water

Like a ink and wash painting

In a weak brown color

Bathing in the yellow glorious atmosphere

 

——–16:00pm Common Room

The afternoon sun strongly

Pours itself onto the glasses of the window

The window is dirty

and dirty is beautiful

The dusts reflect the glare

I cannot see the courtyard behind

The glare on the glass is

Forming a blurred light source of wheat-yellow

Dotted with white stars, which are the marks of the water drops

And the darker paints, which are the traces of people’s fingers

And also lined with silver lines, which are the tears from heaven

 

——-18:00pm Common Room

I look at the clouds

Covering the courtyard

Weaved with two colors of clouds

Cadet blue, and peach puff

They are brighter and more colorful near the skyline

And darker and plainer as they get closer and higher

The colors are clear, moist and tasty

It is getting dark though

 

———19:20pm Common Room

I sit at exactly the same position

Where the golden line marked your profile

Now it is dark, and nobody around

The sky turns into dark dark blue

Plain and wild

As deep as the sea hanging upside down

With dangerous mysterious strength embedded

I look into the darkness

Until they light the pale yellow lamp inside

In the moment when the world sink into silence

The silence tell me that it is time to go

 

 

 

Sep, 20

———8:00am home

The tree now falls into impressionism atmosphere

Dotted with all kinds of colors

Green yellow, lime green, sea green, khaki yellow, orange, dark brown

Painted together, weaving ambiguously

I am feeling the light as an atmosphere

light as watercolor

light as void

light as God

——-8:50am Mass Ave

The sky turns into white gray

A deadpan face

A little piece blue gray behind the gap of thick clouds

It is too bright for my eyes

The trees are dark green

under the bright plain sky

 

——-12:00pm Common Room

The plant’s green leaves are darker

In the bright soft light of noon

No tendency, warm or cold

Just green, dark clear green

With details exposed

 

——-16:00pm studio

The light is totally white gray

As the scene is all still life

Flattened into the same piece of paper

The chimney is in pale orange

And the building is in pale gray

Windows in pale dark gray

While the stiff white steams are rising up

Slowly and steadily

 

———-18:30pm Mass Ave

The sky turns from royal to yellow

The cloud turns from pure to purple

The seawall is soften to be a cloth

Stained with colors as my apron

 

———21:00pm Hayden Library

I look at the short vegetations

In a weird color of green

Are they too bright in the darkness of deep blue?

Clearly they show the pattern of each piece of leaves

White green circles arraying in the background of dark green

This is the special illumination design

To express the vegetation themselves

I am so hard to satisfy

With the design of artificial light

 

 

Sep, 21

———9:00am home

The shadows of the blinds on the wall

Are like fish, fish on top the fish

Each with a clear head, facing the sun

And a vague back in chocolate gray

A big belly in violet gray

And a bulged butt, in dark green, with a reflection of the ripple

In light warm khaki

Pointing to

a white tail, leaving the shadow

it reminds me a far far fuzzy memory

of the feeling of sudden solitude

in an afternoon in the bright warm lovely sunshine

 

———10:00am Mass Ave

I feel the early autumn falls

Onto the leaves of the street trees

Each of them now wears a dress with orange lace

And turn into translucent olive green

In the middle, in the sun

In the middle of the sun, they blur

And leave long long purple mottled shadows

On the grainy orange-red brick wall

 

———12:00pm Rotch Library

Now the leaves of the maple turn into olive leaves

Olives in Mediterranean

Olives in Massachusetts

They shine in the silver lights

silver, and even golden

Tiny and crowded, intimate and giant

The green is taking a nap, in the comfortable sunshine of the noon

The light is not purely clear, but it brings warm glorious tone

An atmosphere of nostalgia

I sink into deep, deep memory

 

——–14:00pm Hayden Library

The large tree falls the most beautiful peaceful shadows

Onto the lovely lawn

The sunlit parts are in lawn green

With meticulous reflections of the golden sunshine

The shadowy parts are in dark sea green

With the darker texture of shades shivering in the breeze

Light and shadow weave together

In the tranquility of the early afternoon

as beautiful gestures of hundreds of Apsaras

dancing in a long raga of Hindustani music

 

———23:00pm Mass Ave

The streetlights draw a monochrome water color

Of orange, onto the concrete

Darker and lighter

Here and there

With the shadows in purple gray

Light and shadow weaving together

The world is simplified

Into orange and darkness

Dotted with neon light, in bloody red and ghost green

I miss the sunlight,

which reveals so many layers and gestures of colors

 

 

Sep, 22

———5:00am home

Naturally I open my eyes,

A cold glaze fiercely pierces into my stigma,

It makes me incapable to recognize the profile of the surroundings

All are flatten, succumbed into a plane of reticence

It was the mirror ruthlessly reflecting the light bulb outside

woke me up in darkness

 

———–8:30am home

Naturally I opened my eyes

The cold glaze has gone

It becomes fragments floating in the royal sky

reminding me of the silver dishes of Louis XIV

which are too shiny and deceitful

too extravagant and incomprehensible

I like the yellow walls below, which are quiet and humble,

nurturing the green vine of the world

 

————11:30am Mass Ave

I am grateful that the trees block the offensive blaze from the sun

with which I suffer from the instant heat as fire

without which I suffer from the constant cold as ice

The leaves have a unique translucent paint

sheltering me from the capricious

giving me warmth and happiness

let me

dance with them

in the most joyful patterns on the ground.

We are almost natural and coherent

Can you see my pace?

 

——— 2:00pm studio

There is a sun amid the metal steels;

created behind the concrete hill

The sky seems not far but not near

The air seems dull and not clear

The dishes lose their shine

and become sheets of blank plane

covering the earth of shadowless

and of strenuous

Colors honestly tell their own name,

without ambiguous and bias,

such a boring day it is!

 

——–5:00pm Albany Street

Once the sun osculates our world

Sometimes it may not be as enjoyable as you thought

Colors lose their vivacity

Under the shine there is no secret

Nor ambiguity

Shadows are too sharp to leave a space

for your imagination

the purple is cut into half

the blue and the red

I cut myself into two

my body and my soul

 

——–6:00pm Charles River

The world is upside down

I see the orange sun hanging on the river

Interlocked waves flying from the east

a yacht struggles to balance itself in the amplitude

the sunlight struggles to pass through the milky sail

It reaches the body of the boat and transforms into a long tail

following the yacht and disappear in the deep deep shadow

 

———-23:00 pm home

I struggle to open my eyes, staring at the images

In the framework of light

I try to figure out ifs reflection on the wall

which is dominated by the yellow lamp at the corner

Whispering the myths with orange spell,

warm and safe

peaceful and sleepy

 

 

 

Sep, 23

——- 8:00am home

Probably I have amnesia

I forget the blue of streetlight penetrating my room

I forget the frost of shadow over my exhausted body

I forget the tedious names of colors

I forget where I am supposed to be

Simply enjoy the every moment of the changing

substance

it seems innocent of its way coming

it seems stubborn of its way going

I wish I can collect some of it into my pillow

To be protected, preserved

Remind me of your coming from the sky

 

——-11:50am Studio

It is raining outside

Millions of white threads falling

Creating a transparent moving gradient medium

Between the building and me

The scene is moist, dripping

While the color is gray and sleepy

 

——4:00pm Mass Ave

I hear the sound of drums from the clouds

It comes with softness

My sunglasses catch this noise

telling me

not to be scared

You are somewhere struggling with the stone

Thinking ways to cut through it and reach everywhere

Don’t be grey any more

I lend you a mirror

You can still reach me if you want

See you in that piece of glorious orange wall

 

———7:00pm Mass Ave

The fading shine is suffocating

the sky tears off its mask and unveil its darkness

it is purely elusive

I stare at it trying hard to find any trail of you

I could only see the wrinkles in deep blue

Somewhere you burn through

In parallel lines

Soft but hard in your rhythm

I cannot see any beauty

But it tells me

Tonight the moon will purify it

The new one tomorrow will be great

 

 

 

Sep, 24

——-9:00am home

I want to manipulate the light

I do today with the mirror

I moved it to the right and the light turns right

I moved it to the left and the light unwontedly faces left

The reflection brings my room to the forest of wildness

Furniture floating on the refraction of water

Carpet washing in the overlaying of colors

I am soaking in the imagination

Staying there, strengthening myself

In peace, in loyal, in dreams

 

———–10:00am Windsor St

I am delighted that wet Boston is dried after days of sunshine

Here the air is fresh

The colors on the wall are soft and clean

The shadow is accompanying the white in peace

The clarity of the horizon leads me to the far end of the sky

Layers of transparent foam hanging up in the azure

From small to big along the path of light

Matching to Cambridge faithfully everyday

 

——–12:00pm Common Room

If I have not mistaken you once caught my sight

in a sudden,

Between the norms and the chaos,

I saw your tuxedo which was sharp and delicate

Cutting through everything and no one capable of escape

Everyone hides from you out of shyness

except me

I could not help but open myself to you

Let you touch my every inch of skin

To share the warmth

To feel your power

Today you are weak, my cloudy day

yesterday did you sleep well?

 

——-3:00pm Charles River

Light pouring into mankind

They forget to receive it and break it to terrible stains

I stand at the middle of the green

Here the light is fragile but I can find its wholeness

as a cat

It can squeeze itself to pass through the gap

In the next moment it will go somewhere you never know

Moving with its lightest steps

Making jokes of lives

Thinking what you always forget in your mind

 

———6:00pm studio

In the last second it was shiny

In the next second it was rainy

The light crystallized itself into droplets

Framing the space in the air

It was cool and mad

I struggled to open my eyes,

spotting myself among the millions of stones

of reflection

I hear someone pouring water from the top

into the crowd of people praying

In the glory of agua

In the sickness of armor

 

——-8:00pm Mass Ave

The greatest invention of the world is the blind

It filters the light,

It filters the reality.

I see light outside playing with the kids

I see light hiding from a couple for a kiss

I see light climbing up the mountain and hold its breath

exhaling in a second

and the darkness forces it to leave

I flee from the reality over blindness

I see the light coming

 

 

 

Sep, 25

———12:00am home

Light penetrates into my room boldly with

a sharp cut through the window frame

It leaves a triangular sheet of brightness on the wall

The edge is as rigid as the paper cut

But once it hits the corner,

 it is blended perpendicularly

to follow the movement of the ground

and leave some of its trails on all the silver containers

A tiny spot of light is enough to tell its existence

 

————15:30pm Charles River

I sail in the mercury

The sun recombines into thousands of chains

Floating on the shiny surface

Sometimes they seem to be in order

Sometimes they seem to be chaotic

Near the seawall a black shadow struggles to engross everything above

Filling in the gap between the static and the movement

Lubricate the world into the perfect harmony

 

———–17:00pm Charles River

The order of blue sky suddenly broken by a yellow beam

It leaves a orange stain at the far west

Reflecting in the pieces of bleached silver planes

Meanwhile in the far east I hear the horn of the darkness

Painting the blue into black

The sky becomes a spectrum of the two poles

We stay in between them

Enjoying the nuisance of the nature

 

——–19:00pm Mass Ave

Naming of colors is useless at this moment

There are millions of colors above my head

No way to capture any single piece of color

they are overlapped and smoothly transited

I try to find the threshold of the colors

I see a red dot holding a Chinese fan

Playing its magic to cure the men

Who have worked whole day

Making jokes of their life

 

———-21:30pm Rotch Library

Light is fixed into a frame

which shows me the artificial sky of imaginations

It is bleached white at first

And then blue in a sudden

A small yellow light coming from the top of the frame

I am just able to see the weak reflection of the keyboards

As if the paving in the darkness outside

Quietly purifying itself at night

Preparing for another noisy day in the morning