Critical Reflection
Unattainable: Landscape, Distance, and the Aesthetics of the Unreachable
1. Introduction
This project consists of two paintings created on 30x40cm and 25x30cm canvases. I used acrylic, soft pastel, and coloured pencil to depict quiet, barren landscapes under open skies. Each painting features a crescent moon and a short glowing phrase: one says "so close," the other says "you owned me."
The colour palette is soft and limited — grey-blue skies, pale grassland, and white-pink neon-like texts that float eerily in the landscape. There are no human figures, only a distant, luminous presence and a sense of absence.
In my application of materials, I deliberately used paint of varying thicknesses and materials of different textures to create a sense of distance between the foreground and background within the composition. This layering of materials extends my exploration of physical and emotional distance. During the painting process, I polished the surface after each application to achieve a smooth effect with the paint. This repetitive and patient process reminded me of meditation—similar to our contemplation of and gaze upon the unreachable.
These works are poetic and ambiguous, using minimal composition and symbolic motifs to create an emotional space rather than a narrative.
2. The Moon as a Cross-Cultural and Cross-Sensory Symbol
The moon, as a celestial body visible to all humanity, has long served as a symbol across diverse cultural and artistic traditions. In my own artistic process, this shared symbol becomes not only cross-cultural, but cross-sensory. My approach draws upon a form of ekphrasis — the transformation of one sensory medium into another — to reinterpret a musical experience of the moon into visual form. This allows me to explore how different media can express similar emotional states.
The Cantonese song "Half-Moon Serenade" (《月半小夜曲》) offered me a unique sensory entry point into the moon’s emotional potential. The lyric "You are like the moon in the sky, forever unattainable" encapsulates a sentiment of longing that transcends language. When listening, I felt as if I could see the moonlit scene, immersed in a visual atmosphere born of sound. This experience is similar to a reversed form of ekphrasis: instead of describing an artwork in words, I was translating music into images.
This kind of synesthetic moon appears in the work of Katie Paterson, whose piece "Earth-Moon-Earth (Moonlight Sonata Reflected from the Surface of the Moon)" transforms Beethoven’s "Moonlight Sonata" into radio signals bounced off the moon. Likewise, Russell Crotty’s immersive drawings blend lunar cartography with atmospheric environments. These works demonstrate the moon’s adaptability across media and its enduring emotional charge.
In my own series, I translate the emotional resonance of music into layered visual scenes with textual and pictorial elements. The works invite viewers to engage not only visually, but to potentially recall auditory and emotional memories of their own. In doing so, I attempt to merge the symbolic and the sensory, creating a space of embodied empathy.
My engagement with the song is not purely aesthetic but also cultural. "Half-Moon Serenade" draws on traditional Chinese lunar imagery while adopting the sentimentality of pop ballads. It reminds me of shared cultural codes of unattainability and emotional reserve.
This cultural-linguistic memory was intensified by my experience in Norway during polar night. In those long hours of darkness, I experienced a silence and awe of nature similar to what the song evoked. When winter descends in London, those memories resurface, reactivating the emotional structure that originally inspired my paintings.
Through this ekphrastic process, my moon works ask: Can certain emotional experiences remain constant across media? The moon—in poetry, in song, in painting—consistently embodies distance, desire, and the bittersweet impossibility of possession.
By layering music-inspired emotion into sparse landscapes and pairing them with intimate phrases, I hope to recreate the immersive melancholy of the song while offering a new visual and emotional space for viewers. The result is a bridge between sense modalities, cultural traditions, and shared human affect.
3. The Symbolism of Moon and Landscape
I see landscape as a vessel for emotion. Influenced by Caspar David Friedrich's romantic paintings, I believe that nature can express solitude and longing. Like Friedrich's figures facing the sublime, my viewer stands alone before a distant moon (Koerner, 2009).
The moon, especially in its crescent phase, symbolizes incompletion, distance, and a quiet kind of sadness. It is always there, always untouchable. In my work, it becomes a metaphor for something present yet forever unreachable.
The absence of human presence makes the landscape more internal, more psychological—a projection of the viewer's inner solitude. This approach resonates with the Chinese internet culture concept of "BE aesthetics," which values the poignant beauty of the unresolved or unattainable.
4. BE Aesthetics and the Poetics of Pain - The Existential Value of the Incomplete
While exploring the moon imagery, I discovered a profound connection between the crescent moon in my work and the concept of "BE aesthetics" in Chinese internet culture. "BE" originates from online vernacular, initially describing "Bad Ending" narratives in novels or visual media, which became particularly popular in post-millennial Chinese culture. This aesthetic tendency isn't simply about pursuing tragedy or pain, but rather an artistic presentation of human powerlessness when confronting fate—like "an ant trying to stop a chariot."
The core of BE aesthetics, as Chinese aesthetician Zhu Guangqian notes in his "Psychology of Tragedy," is that "beauty approaches the tragic when it carries a slight sense of sorrow." This perspective aligns perfectly with my artistic practice—the crescent rather than the full moon becomes the protagonist in my work, embodying an "incomplete" aesthetic. The crescent moon's existence reminds us of the transience or unattainability of completeness, and this very "unattainability" confers a deeper aesthetic value on the object.
German aesthetician Theodor Lipps describes this precisely: "Once it is lost, its value especially moves me; this strengthens grief, but can also strengthen joy. If the lost object were still mine, perhaps I would value it little or not at all." This paradox is fully expressed in my moon works—the unattainability of the moon, its contradictory existence of being visually present yet physically distant, is exactly the emotional tension I attempt to emphasize through the juxtaposition of text and image ("so close" against the distant crescent).
The moon serves as an ideal vehicle for BE aesthetics. In traditional Chinese poetry, the bright moon often connects with homesickness, farewells, and unattainable longings. Even in modern pop songs like Sam Hui's "Half Moon Serenade," lyrics like "people are like the moon in the sky, impossible to possess" continue this cultural tradition. The moon's constant presence yet untouchability, similar to my experience in the Norwegian polar night where connection with and alienation from nature coexisted, embodies the duality of "sublimity" and "powerlessness" in BE aesthetics.
Aristotle proposes in his "Poetics" that tragedy "effects through pity and fear the catharsis of such emotions." I believe the mixture of longing, awe, and recognition of one's insignificance when facing the moon constitutes an aesthetic "catharsis." In my work, this catharsis is achieved in two ways: through the cognitive dissonance created by the contrast between image and text ("so close" against the distant moon), and through the material contrast (the untouchable moon versus the touchable canvas).
Connecting BE aesthetics with Sara Ahmed's concept of "pain" in "The Cultural Politics of Emotion," I find that sorrow can indeed be understood as a psychological pain, which, as Ahmed suggests, is realized "through the sociality of bodily surfaces." When we gaze at the moon and feel its unattainability, that sense of loss is simultaneously personal, social, and cultural.
Ahmed writes: "Pain becomes key to the formation of the body," and the pain of "unattainability" evoked by the moon makes us more aware of our nature as bounded beings. This pain isn't negative but a necessary experience that helps us recognize the boundaries between self and other, the attainable and unattainable. Like the juxtaposition of neon text "you owned me" with the moon image in my work, it challenges viewers' understanding of possession and being possessed, creating an aesthetic "traumatic encounter."
The significance of BE aesthetics in contemporary art perhaps lies in its resistance to our age of instant gratification. In a social media era where everything seems within reach, the moon—physically unattainable yet visually ever-present—reminds us to accept and cherish things we cannot fully possess or understand. My work attempts to create a balance, acknowledging desire's existence while accepting the reality of unattainability.
As suggested by German artist Caspar David Friedrich's compositions where silhouetted figures face vast skies, BE aesthetics isn't simply an indulgence in sorrow, but rather maintaining the courage to face the infinite while recognizing human limitations. My moon series, especially the "so close" and "you owned me" works, are visual expressions of this complex emotional state—acknowledging distance's existence while refusing to abandon the longing for connection.
In this way, my work doesn't simply replicate the tragic nature of BE aesthetics but uses it as a lens to explore existential dilemmas in contemporary life: how do we maintain appreciation and yearning for things we know we can never fully possess? This eternal tension precisely constitutes the core of my artistic practice.
5.The Dialectical Relationship Between Text and Image: From Roland Barthes to Personal Artistic Practice
In my moon series, the relationship between text and image becomes a central means of expressing emotional distance and unattainability. This creative approach is deeply influenced by Roland Barthes' theory, particularly his concepts of "anchorage" and "relay" proposed in "The Rhetoric of the Image." Barthes suggests that text can both "anchor" an image by limiting its meaning, and form a complementary relationship with it, jointly conveying information that neither could express alone, creating a "relay" function.
After attending the Academic Support workshop on creating PDFs, I developed a profound understanding of the multi-layered relationship between text and image. I was particularly inspired by Fay Godwin's photographic work "The Duke of Westminster's Estate, Forest of Bowland" (1989). In this piece, a simple "Private" sign stands in a vast natural landscape, creating a strong visual contrast. As I observed, "This land appears to belong to nature, to be public, yet the text in the image states 'private.' This striking contrast sparked my attention and contemplation."
This contrast is not merely a visual conflict but a conceptual challenge questioning our understanding of natural spaces and human-imposed boundaries. It was this tension between text and image that inspired my creative approach, prompting me to incorporate textual elements like "so close" and "you owned me" into my moon landscapes, attempting to create similar conceptual collisions and emotional resonance.
Barthes wrote: "The image's polysemy poses a question of meaning... all societies develop various techniques to fix the floating chain of signifieds... linguistic message is one of these techniques." In my work, text does not simply explain the image but enters into dialogue with it, jointly creating a third meaning that transcends both. When "so close" is juxtaposed with a distant crescent moon, this contrast not only reinforces the sense of distance but also creates a cognitive dissonance in the viewer, inviting them to reconsider the subjectivity and complexity of "nearness" and "distance."
Placing my practice within a broader art historical context, the different understandings of text-image relationships in Eastern and Western traditions provide rich reference systems. In Chinese literati painting, the integration of poetry, calligraphy, and painting is considered the ideal form of artistic expression. As I reflected, "When we view these literati paintings, the accompanying poetry is often more important. These paintings often contain large areas of blank space, or depict only single plants or scenes; the image itself lacks strong narrative and requires the poetry to understand its artistic conception."
This tradition creates an interesting dialogue with my practice—the physical presentation of the moon and the emotional suggestion of text complement each other, jointly constructing a complex emotional landscape. However, unlike the Chinese tradition, my textual elements ("so close" and "you owned me") and images have an intentional contrast or contradiction, more aligned with contemporary artistic rhetorical strategies than traditional harmonious unity.
In my creation, the relationship between text and image is both "anchorage" and "relay"—"I believe in my work, text is an interpretation of the image, and also an element that forms new meaning in relay with the image." This duality allows the work to simultaneously express multi-layered emotional experiences, from objective observation of the moon to subjective longing for the unattainable.
Tracey Emin's neon installation "I Want My Time With You" at London St. Pancras Station provided another important reference. As my personal experience shows: "When I returned from my journey late at night and saw the work above the station clock, I felt the ambiguity and warmth emanating from it." This experience reminds us that the relationship between text and image is not merely visual but closely related to spatial context and the viewer's bodily experience.
Emin's work gives text materiality and spatiality; through the luminous quality of neon, text itself becomes a visual object and emotional medium. This strategy inspired me to consider using "neon-like glowing text" in my work, making "so close" not just a conceptual text but a visual element with physical presence. This materiality of text contrasts with the distant ethereality of the moon, further enhancing the conceptual tension of the work.
Emin's work also made me consider the relationship between text, space, and time. Her neon text installation not only changed the physical space of the station but also affected travelers' experience of time—injecting an emotional dimension into moments of waiting and moving. Similarly, I hope that the text in my moon series will change viewers' temporal experience of the desolate landscape, giving the static image a kind of emotional fluidity.
Ultimately, the relationship between text and image in my moon series is not intended to provide a definitive interpretation but to create an open space for dialogue. As Barthes said: "The image no longer illustrates the text; it is now the text that structurally parasitizes the image." In this relationship, text and image both support and challenge each other, inviting viewers to participate in the process of constructing meaning.
This openness allows the work to transcend simple visual representation, becoming a more complex exploration of distance, desire, and unattainability. The crescent moon in a desolate landscape, accompanied by text like "so close" or "you owned me," creates an emotional tension—simultaneously near and far, both desiring possession and accepting the unattainable. This complex emotional state is the core experience I am trying to express through the dialectical relationship between text and image.
Through this dialogue between text and image, my work is not merely a representation of the moon as a physical presence but an emotional reflection on things that seem close yet can never be fully possessed. This reflection is both personal and universal, an expression of my own experience and an exploration of universal human emotional states.
6. Conclusion: Creating Emotional Space
These paintings are not about telling a personal story, but about creating emotional environments where viewers can experience distance, desire, and the beauty of what remains out of reach.
The text-image relationship in my moon series creates an open dialogue space rather than a definitive interpretation. As Barthes said: "The image no longer illustrates the text; it is now the text that structurally parasitizes the image" (Barthes, 1977, p.25). Text and image support and challenge each other, inviting viewers to participate in constructing meaning.
It is worth noting that I consider this series of works not yet truly complete. My vision is to create larger pieces (approximately 80x100cm) where viewers standing before such paintings could have a more immersive experience, as if they themselves were present in that desolate space coexisting with the moon. Although time constraints prevented me from realizing this goal, I plan to continue exploring this series in the future, further developing this visual expression of distance and unattainability.
Through minimal landscape, symbolic moons, and text that hovers between confession and silence, I seek to express the aesthetics of longing—not for what we have, but for what we can never hold. This openness transforms the work from simple visual representation into a complex exploration of distance, desire, and unattainability.
My artistic practice brings together Eastern and Western traditions, contemporary and historical references, and theoretical frameworks to create works that speak to universal human experiences of longing, distance, and beautiful impossibility. Through the crescent moon—incomplete yet eternal—I invite viewers to contemplate their own relationship with the unattainable and find beauty in acknowledging distance.
References
Ahmed, S. (2004). The Cultural Politics of Emotion. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.
Barthes, R. (1977). 'Rhetoric of the Image' in Image-Music-Text. Trans. Stephen Heath. London: Fontana Press.
Chan, Y. (2019). Lunar Representations in Chinese Art and Literature. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press.
Cherry, D. (2019). 'Tracey Emin: Art and Life'. Journal of Contemporary Art, 15(2), pp.78-92.
Koerner, J. (2009). Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape. London: Reaktion Books.
Lipps, T. (1903). Aesthetics: The Fundamentals. Trans. D. Rapp (2018). London: Routledge.
Sullivan, M. (1999). The Arts of China. 4th ed. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Wells, L. (2011). Land Matters: Landscape Photography, Culture and Identity. London: I.B. Tauris.
Zhu, G. (1987). Psychology of Tragedy. Beijing: People's Literature Publishing House.
