When I first came to Pecking, I took three thousand photos in one day. I shot my way through pecking, I moved frame by frame and created a world, a China, in which I could live.
I think Robert Frank created in the same way his America himself before he depicted it.
I don't take pictures because I want to make art, I take pictures because I have to create a world in which I can live and breathe.
Without this work, my pictures, the world would be uninhabitable for me.
An artist is a person who doesn't believe in the world-images that parents, teachers, newspapers, television or politicians hold in front of him.
He doesn't accept these false images made by others, he knows that the world is a huge pile of junk from which he takes out the pieces that he needs to survive.
And this work starts anew every day, because the chaos of the rubbish tip moves and devours yesterday and even today.
That's why my colors also become stronger, screaming, more aggressive.
Today demands yellow, a screaming, hideously intrusive yellow with a few red spots, the blood from the wounds that yesterday left me as a memory.
Maybe tomorrow will be a little brighter, nourishing white, the light that keeps trying to convince me that there is a world that is all bright. (bk)