Memories are never linear— They flutter.
Every frame was a fragment of memory, and every sound was a whisper from the past.
As my charcoal pencil skates across the paper, "How I Grow Up" begins with the whispers of my fabricated memories. Each stroke and sound, like a slender thread, pulls me deep into the labyrinth of memory.
While making sound for this film, I delved deep into my auditory memories from the past. To capture the sounds of these memories, I returned to the Soviet-style Brezhnev-era apartment block in Beijing, where I grew up.
It was a small space on the second floor, but to me back then, it was the entire universe. In my little room, sunlight would stream through the windows, casting patterns on the walls. Outside, a large tree stood, and its leaves whispers. I made field recordings of birds chirping, cicadas, the rustle of tree leaves, and raindrops tapping on the plastic rain shields. The sounds formed the architecture of my memories.
I also did a live performance gig of "How I grow up" at the Crypt Gallery in Euston, London.
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