ZIYAO LIN
the bird that never lands
This work is inspired by a recurring dream — one where I am always rushing to catch a flight, yet somehow never make it. The anxiety, urgency, and deep sense of dislocation haunt me in cycles.
In Chinese folklore, there is a metaphorical creature known as the wujiao niao — the “legless bird” — said to be born without feet, destined to fly without rest until it dies. I see myself in this bird: never able to land, never fully arriving.
Through this mixed-media composition of acrylic painting and hand-shaped ceramics, I attempt to portray a psychic landscape — a constellation of drifting birds, scattered stars, and fragmented selves.
01/07/2025
Medium: Mixed media (acrylic painting and ceramic on board)
Dimensions: 75 × 70 cm (painting: 20 × 25.5 cm)
Autoethnography Writing
Missing Departure
This morning, once again, I was jolted awake.
Another dream about rushing to catch a flight—
and missing it.
This time, the dream began in China. I was trying to catch an afternoon flight back to the UK. I realized that in my dreams, time is both intensified and blurred. Each time, I can only feel an overwhelming urgency—there’s never enough time.
My father asked me what time the flight was, which airport, which terminal. I kept swiping on my phone, tapping frantically through the app’s interface. But I couldn’t find my ticket. I felt like I was going to miss the flight, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t locate the departure time or location—even if I were to pierce through the screen.
“Maybe the departure time is 3 or 4 PM, and now it’s around 12 or 1,” the dream kept reminding me.
It was an international flight—I needed to be there at least three hours early.
I was late. I was late!
When I suddenly opened my eyes, my heart was still racing.
It’s hard to describe how deeply urgency and the passage of time are embedded in my subconscious. So I began to wonder: perhaps I could create a piece of work that expresses this state of mind.
Over the past few months, I’ve been experimenting with ceramics.
Most of the time, my pieces have failed in the kiln.
But one came out with an unexpected result—
a blend of blue and orange hues.
The blue parts were glazed; the orange areas were the bare clay body, exposed after I applied wax and wiped it with a damp sponge.
It looked like a cruel and beautiful scar, scorched into being.
So I spent the entire day designing and envisioning a more feasible creation plan.
At the core of the piece are four ceramic fragments shaped like airplane windows.
Blue and orange areas encroach upon one another.
Around them are stars, and the silhouettes of legless birds.
The legless bird is a Chinese metaphor for a drifting life, inspired by the swift—
a bird that can never land,
forever flying, flying,
until it dies.
Maybe outside of my research, I can spend a few months bringing this piece to life.
And through the process,
I’ll continue contemplating what time truly means to me.
25/05/2025