**the text is not relevant to the images (they never are anyway)
I can’t seem to piece things together. I am losing touch to things. one or two drawing here and there, along with half written notes and sentences that never become a song. they didn’t become anything, anything more than a sentimental post on instagram. nothing has truly taken shape, scenes change before they are over. nothing has really worked out. I grew up alone, building a city in my head that gets torn down again and again. what’s left you make something out of it. I am a series of small victories and large defeats. and they remind me of why I always come back to it where butterflies drink turtle tears as a source of sodium and minerals and the turtles get their eyes cleaned.
#MinizinePicks #微象嚴選 #RoadsideFinds路過選物
【在荒土與夢境之間，描繪直覺的世界 ——
藝術家 @three.golds 乾裂秋風】
不同城市的角落都有自己的脈動，每個瞬間也都有它專屬的痕跡。畫布不只是畫布，也可以是時間、記憶與直覺交錯的潮間帶。若走進 three golds 的世界，你可能會感受到熟悉又陌生的張力——似曾相識的、破敗的場域、雨後的泥土氣息，像夢境般飄渺。
對three golds而言，藝術創作不是追求定義，而是一種以玩耍為概念的創作形式。自 2020 年開始，他投入繪畫、素描與影像創作，每一幅作品，都是對直覺的追逐與視覺的實驗。
▎遊走於直覺 與 作品中的世界記憶
three golds 將創作視為一種玩耍的實踐，從符號出發，置換、編織紋理與線條，再回到繪畫。這種循環使他的畫面既有控制感，也保留了自由的張力。在他的筆觸之下，有機形態與人工結構的交織，形成一種奇特的觀賞節奏，你能從中感受到手與材料的接觸，也能嗅到空間與時間的氣息。
首次個展《crash a space》的金屬欄柵系列，取材自九龍塘的廢棄場域，象徵過去階段的回望。展覽結束後，所有「家具」回到秘密場域，對偶然闖入的行人敞開，形成不同空間的交錯與對話，彷彿作品繼續生活於城市中。
▎靈感來自日常與自然 - 關於存在的哲學
three golds的畫面常出現荒土、廢墟與密林，並非刻意的設計，而是自然流露的景象。從自然、街道、朋友、散步與拾得物中汲取靈感，將日常化為詩意。大地色的運用讓畫面更貼近自然，也突顯筆觸與形體的質感。
對於那些覺得作品難懂的人，他說：「創作不為理解，而是為了感受。」衝動的筆觸與混亂的線條，都是存在的痕跡與時間的記錄。作品彷彿介於夢境與現實之間，在荒土與記憶中構築出個人的世界觀——那是一場由直覺與時間共同織就的旅程。
Credits
Assistant Writer: Joyce
Editor: Chen-Yi
Branding Designer: Phoebe
Producer: Shaiana and Jas
Photo: @three.golds
Minizine The Edgy Minimal
We dare to create and shine to impress.
Issue 9➝ 香港建築密碼 coming soon♡
Interview𓇼➝微藝誌 is coming back strong
Column✐➝微象嚴選 all year round
☾恣意發行中.ᐟ.ᐟ
𓀀Follow @minizine.mag for minimal edges
☼微象誌｜流動的囈誌
(survival of the dumbest)
put a name on your chaos, grief and anger. put a name on the cause of your misery. when i was younger the moon used to walk me to school everyday. forget about your past and forget about me too. you wanted a story to tell and a lesson to learn. survival is for the stupidest and the stupidest is often the bravest. and the gentle sort of pain that follows you is just the part of you that is still listening to music. don’t let go of it if you don’t have to.
i climax with a sigh with ink in my mind. i wonder what are the things i chose not to say. i ignored the letters that said do not ignore. I walk the same way everyday. this body, if divided into two cannot survive but the mind can.
——oil, mixed medium on wood panel
*exhibited at @crash.a.space ‘All Go to One Place’, december 2024
(everything that im not)
the heart on my skin, muddy water and translucent moonlight. all the things i hold in my palm and everything else that is not. im done running away and im done staying too.
grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can and the wisdom to know the difference.
give up and/to/or give in. every passing second is the proof. liquid sun, i can see on a misty day. floating bubbles with a colourless hue. love is smart and fear is not real. and no, i don’t have or am had by anyone.
facts are the only thing i want to pursue.
(i am staring at the ceiling from the carpet)
from the river to the sea and every space in between. i want god, i want poetry, i want real danger, i want freedom, i want goodness, i want sin. i also want comfort. I want connections, separation, aloneness and oneness.
the ants live under my skin and eyelids. they dance and witness the world before my eyes. they understand the way i move, how i shed and how i bleed. they stay for nobody.
our temporary bodies, confusion and courage. skeptics, radical acceptance of joy and the absurd of certainty. out there i know a part of you will always keep it close to me. i am taller with my heart open.
(come along with me)
to the forest or to the sea with magic in our ears. the lunatic is on the grass. i don’t know where i’ll be. things i used to think matters turns out don’t. stories, melodies, climbing up a tree, mid autumn nights with full moon.
