Stumbled across an unassuming exhibition today — no fanfare, no English…

Stumbled across an unassuming exhibition today — no fanfare, no English translations, not even a brochure. Just a quiet series of teal panels in a hallway, following the life of Su Dongpo (Su Shi), the great poet and statesman of the Song dynasty.

With only my camera and the not-always-trusty help of AI translation apps, I pieced together a remarkable narrative. The exhibition followed Su through exile, joy, bureaucracy, grief, and moonlit poetry — all told in his own voice, via letters, verse, and reflections.

I loved this :

Drunk, I find joy in the shadows of flowers and bamboo.
I sing old tunes and chant poems under the moon.
Let me grow old this way, far from the dusty world.

There’s something about this desire for quiet transcendence — a life tethered to the natural, the poetic, and the unspoken — that resonates strongly with my own work. My recent projects often explore stillness and presence within urban environments, looking for those brief moments of clarity in the in-between spaces. Su’s line felt like it could have been scrawled in the margins of one of my notebooks.

It’s a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful encounters aren’t found on the official itinerary, and that even through cracked translations and dusty wall text, poetry has a way of finding its mark.