For Liu ­Yunyi, ruins convey the passage of time, traces of history, and a certain melancholy. They resemble the collective unconscious, concealing and suggesting more than straightforwardly revealing. Ruined buildings are like invisible places buried within our daily lives. Although they may not garner the spotlight, their existence bears witness to the rise and fall of eras and of the physical objects associated with them.   

The Vanishing Portraits: Huang Huihuang’s Villa, Kinmen (2016). The surrealistic ruins in Liu’s photo collages evoke a prototypical dreamscape that calls out repeatedly to our inner selves.

The call of history

From her project of photographing European ruins, Liu next turned to capturing photographs on Kin­men for her “Oblivion Island” exhibition. Upon returning to Taiwan, she was attracted to the ruins of Western-style buildings here left from earlier historical eras. Their outer appearances intrigued her. Although the structures have undoubtedly witnessed much history, she hasn’t chosen to highlight their historical significance. Instead, her images of them aim to open all manner of possible interpretations.

Nevertheless, in this series of photographs on Kin­men, we can detect some strong political symbols that are intimately connected to our identities, memories and histories. Hearing these historical calls, we are once again forced to confront a history that has been all too easily forgotten in this age of consumerism. 

It’s worth noting that these ruins are in fact products of modernization that bear witness to how the things that are rejected by the rapid advance of modern society are promptly cast off behind us. Liu picks up these shattered discards of history sliver by sliver. From what she’s gathered, we gain a sense of the former glory of these works of architecture—how they too were once “modern” for their eras. And we come to realize that the modern cities of the current day will inevitably turn into relics of a bygone age themselves.

The Vanishing Portraits: Wang Jincheng’s Villa, Kinmen (2016). Liu Yunyi captures not only the history and ideologies of Kinmen’s past but also an aesthetic of decay.

Creating images, not taking photos

Liu revisits the “exterior surfaces” of relics, capturing photographs of their outer appearances. Furthermore, she doctors the images of these buildings digitally to “restore” them. Liu thus transcends the mere “indexicality” endemic to photography to acquire some of the “fictitiousness” of painting. Thanks to digital manipulation, these works have become a form of “digital painting.” By eliminating certain modern elements (such as motor vehicles), she returns these ruins to what, in her mind, are their true selves. In other words, she is not merely taking photographs: Rather, she is spending energy creating images that restore purity to her perceptions.

This “image construction,” as well as the exhibitive method of blowing up photographs’ details clearly, causes our perspectives to constantly shift around the works. It becomes very difficult to grasp them in their entirety from a single perspective (as opposed to smaller photographic works). And this shifting of perspectives makes one conscious of the flow of time. What’s more, the “digital collage” method that she has employed to reconstruct these works of architecture gives the viewer a strong sense of temporal breaks and overlaps.

This method also brings details of the architecture into sharp focus and provides “visual angles that would be impossible in reality.” (Since the perspective of our flesh-and-blood eyes is constantly changing, it is only through the deliberate operation of photography that it is possible to reveal these kinds of mechanical perspectives.) Consequently, these photographic collages engender in viewers a sense that the works are “more real than real life,” and they provide suggestions of a ghostlike spirit that takes hold in the realm between what exists (the ruin that can be found out in the real world) and what doesn’t (the ruin we see as constructed by Liu, offer­ing perspectives that we would not have in real life). 

More than merely shooting surface images of derelict buildings, Liu is reconstructing an invisible awareness that humanity has hidden in the realm of dreams. These seemingly materialistic ruins are in fact pointing to deep layers within our interior mental structures. Meanwhile, her creativity spurs us to consider our own memory, imagination and identity.

The Vanishing City: Weißenfels, Germany (2013). In contrast to the cold neutrality found in many of Liu’s photographic collages, the trees and sunlight here lend the work a sense of great vitality.

The Vanishing Portraits, Berlin, I, II, III, Germany (2014). Captured in varying light that engenders different atmospheres, this abandoned building displays the tracks of time.

The Vanishing Portraits, Berlin, I, II, III, Germany (2014). Captured in varying light that engenders different atmospheres, this abandoned building displays the tracks of time.

The Vanishing Portraits, Berlin, I, II, III, Germany (2014). Captured in varying light that engenders different atmospheres, this abandoned building displays the tracks of time.