Zhú

The ascent of the mountain, more than sixty thousand steps – gradually became as much a psychological journey as a physical one.With each step upward I found myself reflecting on the reasons behind my work and the ideals that guide it. Curiously, the closer I came to the summit, the further away those ideals seemed to drift.

Eventually I stopped. Sitting quietly with my guide, we shared tea and spoke at length about these thoughts. When I finally rose, I paused to acknowledge the majesty of the mountain – and began the descent, my camera never once leaving the comfort of its bag.

It was a long way to travel to reach such a realisation, yet it remains a moment I have never questioned. It reaffirmed something fundamental: that the true value of my work lies not in the place itself, but in the experience itself – and in a deeper communion with the natural world.

Several days later, searching for quieter ground, I discovered the Yunxi Zhujing bamboo (竹 – Zhú) forest near Hangzhou. At first each bamboo appeared almost identical, repeating endlessly through the forest. Yet on closer observation each cane revealed its own subtle character – markings, scars and textures shaped over time.

In that quiet discovery I sensed a simple metaphor for ourselves: individuals sharing the same world, yet each carrying a unique story.

For several days I returned to work within the forest, beneath the swaying bamboo and the soft rustle of leaves punctuating the silence.The pictures that emerged from that time became an unexpected reward for my journey to China – and a quiet reminder of the lesson first revealed on Yellow Mountain.