Sha Luo

O  屋企




Skeleton Leaf  House

Sculpture made of leaves and nature found objects

Most of my childhood summers were in tree farms or rural villages with my siblings. We barefoot ran into grasses, jumped into ponds and rivers, ate wild fruits that picked on tiptoe, climbed trees then hung upside down, and rebuilt the secret base wiped by the rain. The bruises changed color. In those days, time was visible and tangible, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. Peeling off smaller and smaller scabs on the same wound is more real than the soon-coming end of summer.

We got separated in the wood one time. My sister was impatient and angry about my missing. I needed an excuse. I picked up the fragile lacelike leaves on the ground and said I had built a house out of them. This is an all too obvious lie. My sister's questions were without suspicion and aimed to find my flaw. With a strong attitude that I was wronged and absolutely didn't lie, I fabricated more absurd stories with details.

Recalling it over and over again, this memory is getting blurrier but also more apparent. It keeps changing, and I don't know the truth.

"Whether you believe it or not, I really did it anyway."
Turn lies into truth.

My Names                                                                                                             

Kiln formed glass

Dad’s Friends Circle


Walking to the Tree