In the height of midsummer 2024, Arch Gallery was delighted to announce the solo exhibition "Glittering Signals" by artist Qi Le, which ran from June 7 to July 28, 2024. On a long night when there was no choice but to venture deeper into the forest instead of returning home, we became the shadows awakened by the sun. Letting fleeting thoughts occupy the body together, as countless consciousnesses surged in, we let them surge. In the boundless Milky Way, a moth dreamed, and fireflies fluttered.
" The thrills and freshness of morning, dusk, and night.
These practical works attempt to hover over a seemingly familiar reality, but never one that can be reached. This is the opposite of reality, the interior of the body, a temporal gap from a sudden distraction.
Much of my childhood was spent in the mountains, and this enchanting, eerie landscape has continually reappeared in various forms—it wanders between my teeth, ankles, and eyelashes, it builds caverns in each specific temperature, and thus my creative practice unfolds. "
──Qi Le
In the dim light of dawn, the sun rises, and light spots shine through the scattered leaves onto the small river in front of the house. This summer, like the monotonous bird songs, seems both simple and lively. The home is like the waves of the small river, and the waves are the breathing of the river. Looking at the shimmering fragments of this little river, the scenery of home becomes bright and complex.
The sun is illusory, hanging in the sky, overlooking the undulating sea vertically. The sunlight, like a glittering grid, envelops the world, like a floating embrace. It is said that the small river will exert all its strength to rush into the sea, and the waves are the breathing of the sea. The home is like the waves of the sea, distant, blurred, resistant yet layered. The time spots coming towards us refract into the room, and when touched, they outline the contours of dreams. The dreamscape is fully exposed in clear and meticulous detail, covered in the hasty light that has the eyes of the dream. It catches scattered desires, speaking with its own voice, and the teeth collide again, like the white sails rising in the sea. Turning over, suddenly realizing that it is the mottled memories sending out glittering signals.
Life is not a series of uniformly assembled paintings; life is circles of bright light, shining towards oneself, always leading to consciousness. We are surrounded by a semi-transparent envelope, linking this ever-changing, indescribable, inexplicable inner spirit—no matter how abnormal and complex it may seem. These continuous and long lines are my hair, they are the place I return to. Stretching out, I forgot that midsummer has arrived, and I pick up a gun.
