Black (Rage) Paintings stands in juxtaposition to White Paintings: in colour, and state of mind. Where White Paintings is reflective and mild, Rage Paintings is raw and unfiltered, although political commentary remains abstract. There is a sense of confinement, however, in the small scale of the painting, where my rage has been contained in a 29.7 cm x 21 cm square of wood, almost like a rage room.
Oil on Wood
29.7 cm x 21 cm
The first of this new series, Zapfhurshun is a made-up homophone of “Subversion”, the National Security Law charge sentenced to the Hong Kong 47 for holding a primary election. Rage, as the primary motive, presented itself in straight, forceful pillars, forming the foundation of the painting. Darkness was built in a slow, simmering burn reminiscent of Kiefer and Auerbach. This goes beyond rage to my profound disappointment regarding the death of the rule of law in Hong Kong.
Oil, Bounty, and other things on Wood
19.8 x 29.9 cm
This piece responds to the latest addition of six wanted overseas Hongkonger activists, including Chloe Cheung, a student activist just one year younger than me, now with a £102,000 bounty on her head. Her recent address at the February 8th Protest against China’s proposed new mega embassy quotes, “As an activist with a bounty, I am ANGRY, and I am TERRIFIED.” (Cheung, 2025). The extent to which authorities silence dissent—targeting even young adults and children as young as 14 (易碎品編年史 Fragile Items Chronicle, 2024)—brings anger, shock, and disbelief. I initially struggled to convey the idea of a “bounty”/looming prosecution, but a chance discovery of unwanted Bounty Chocolates in my father’s stash inspired this satirical work. Drawing from the “forceful pillars” in Zapfhurshun, menacingly arranged stakes of bark evoke the Salem Witch Trials (historical executions rooted in superstition and falsehoods).
Oil and other things on Wood
19.8 x 29.9 cm
Dots separate the title into groups of 7, 2 and 1, referencing the 7.21 Mob Attack during the 2019 protests that inspired this painting. Dripping red symbolises the bloodshed of innocent people that night. In the bottom right, an ultrasound image of a foetus sits vulnerable as abstract white figures wielding blood-stained sticks threaten to breach the thin barrier protecting the unborn child.
That night, police failed to respond despite numerous calls for help, leaving unarmed civilians—including pregnant women—and protestors to defend themselves against the white-shirted mob’s indiscriminate attack. More than five years later, the memory still fills me with bitterness. The aftermath only deepens my frustration: despite clear video evidence, the police and government refused to prosecute the attackers. Instead, Lam Cheuk-Ting, who was severely injured while trying to disperse the mob and call for help, was unjustly found guilty of "participating in a riot."