A activates his right hip. With a series of contractions of the external and rectus femoris muscles, the calf lifts, the kneecap moves forward in the synovial membrane so that the foot would arch at a right angle to support his weight. The obliques and latissimus dorsi tighten to keep the body stable, and the quadriceps and hamstrings fire to thrust the whole body upward. Tightening the core and swinging the hands forward help to balance the body. A stretches the tendons in the heels so that his entire foot could fit into the steep hillside, forming an acute angle that supports his body.

He climbed to a forked road in a less-than-comfortable position; he leaned on a sculpture in the middle of the road to quiet his accelerated heartbeat from a continuous uphill hike. Electric signals from unfamiliar muscle movements stimulate nerve cells in the lateral situs nucleus to release acetyl co-enzyme a, which catalyzes the synthesis of acetylcholine with choline into the synaptic gap and subsequently binds to acetylcholine receptors on the postsynaptic
membrane. This process triggers neuronal excitation, which then facilitates inter-neuronal signaling and the formation of
memories. It is a series of automatic, unconscious movements. What is influencing A’s actions?

Is A consciously commanding his body? Or does the environment inversely govern A’s body? Does the intervening sculpture combine these two scenarios? It is a delicate endeavor to hike in a mountain with two or even multiple paths not to mention the task of looking at an exhibition on foot. Following the path, unexpected scenes unfold before us, one after another, and it’s easy to lose a sense of direction when traversing through a dense forest, as if boating in a big lake. That’s when one has to rely on memory and instincts. For instance, the Tanzanian Hadza people rely on endurance and imagination to catch prey. They imagine themselves as the fleeing animal, wondering where it will run and then chase it subjectively. The artworks, like prey, are hidden in the forest. The spectators will run into them by chance and then weave them into their memories. A is surprised only to remember a few moments of certain events taking place despite such a long hike, and his visual experience has been functionally annulled, leaving him with an intense bodily response from continuous walking and climbing. Meanwhile, the sculpture seems to counteract the erosion of memories by engaging vision and tactility, simultaneously interrupting the bodily response to this continuous walking.

As A leans against the wall, he gazes at the zigzagging Great Wall, built during the Ming Dynasty, which winds and folds on the hillside before him. He tries to imagine all the reasons behind constructing such a line of defense during the reign of Ming emperors, outlining the undulations of the mountain ridge in his mind. Standing on this now-defunct structure, A even began to contemplate the construction approach and location from his own perspective. It seemed to adopt strategies contrary to the impulsive, dynamic, flexible lifestyles that characterized the nomads. Instead, it’s orderly, continuous, and clearly defined. Alas, such a fortification is precisely the perfect embodiment of these ideals. A hops over a collapsing wall, and with its collapse comes the great integration of Northeast Asia. The N, C, D, and O ( genotype ) of Northeast Asia migrated, assimilated, and spawned many tribes over the next 600 years. Yet, they have been flattened and become uniformly integrated, and can no longer be differentiated externally, and like the sculptures,
they are left suspended in the negative space. Their momentous disappearance is embedded in another form within their DNA and in waiting. A’s friend from Daur would only retell the stories of the Eagle Tribe after a few drinks, letting them hover over the Zeya River in the Far East.

A touched the rough surface of the sculpture, made with a mixture of plaster, cement, stainless steel, and hemp. This laboriously crafted, strange construct with no definitive meaning was dragged up the hill by an excavator [fig.1]. It reminds him of the remains of the Eastern Barbarians from 7,000 years ago [fig.2], yet there are significant differences from an enclosed and complete shelter. The latter ( an enclosed and complete shelter ) seems to reject any external interruption within the enclosure aimed at forming an independent and safe space. In contrast, the former ( the sculptures and the remains of the Eastern Barbarians ) blends with the external space or intends actively to transform the original site through self-involvement.

60 years ago, Rosalind Krauss used the term “ site-construction ” to describe how North American artists expanded the field of sculpture. And this term is re-emerged and often discussed in China
today. The difference is that in a local Chinese sculptural context, such a dichotomous polemic may not have been existing from the beginning. Since the beginning, the sculpture has had its proper place, which seems dormant in our bodies. It is not detached from the chants of the land and the river. In other words, it is embedded in local narratives, gradually speaking to compounded emotions.

From this silent site to the Ming Dynasty Great Wall above Jin Shan Ling,

A sits in a Western restaurant rebuilt from red bricks, munching on a tofu burger, and looks out for the sculptures in the distance, which manifest as white dots.