Joint Exercise is an ongoing series in which I explore how individuals creatively adapt within transitional living environments—through makeshift arrangements, collage-like assemblages, and the redistribution of materials. Each piece is conceived as a modular structure, designed to be dismantled and reconfigured. The materials include discarded objects found during my daily walks in west London, as well as leftover items from my home, supplemented by standardised industrial fittings.
Formally, the work hovers between structural framework and improvised assembly. Gestures such as binding, perforating, suspending, and leaning operate as joint experiments—responses to the inherent properties of each material and tests of their potential as connective elements. While the work does not depict or reconstruct any specific location, its compositional logic is informed by spatial gestures observed in contexts such as Chinese urban villages and self-built settlements in Mexico City. These environments served as critical reference points during the making process—particularly in how individuals negotiate space through adaptive construction, informal support structures, and everyday acts of structural improvisation. Rather than functioning as illustrative content, these references are internalised as sculptural syntax. The aim is not to represent, but to translate these observations into a vocabulary of material connection, instability, and provisional cohesion.
《关节练习》是一个持续推进的系列，我在其中继续探讨个体在过渡性、脆弱居住环境中如何通过创造性的临时布置、拼贴组合与材料的再利用，适应并建立栖居秩序。每件作品均被构思为可拆卸、可重构的模块化结构，材料主要包括我在伦敦西部日常散步时在垃圾投放点收集的闲置品，以及家中边角料，辅以部分标准化的工业构件。在形式上，它游走于结构框架与即兴装配之间。诸如“缠绕”、“穿孔”、“悬挂”、“搭靠”等连接方式，是我基于材料特性所进行的节点练习，也是对不同材料之间连接可能性的尝试。尽管作品并不再现特定地点，其构成逻辑却受到中国城中村与墨西哥自建聚落等空间实践中所见“空间手势”的启发。这些环境在创作过程中为我提供了关键参照，尤其是在个体如何通过自发建构、非正式支撑结构及日常性的空间改造，来应对不稳定栖居条件方面。这些参照并非具象再现，而是被内化为一种雕塑语法。我希望将这些观察转化为一种以材料连接、不稳定性与临时性秩序为核心的语言系统。
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The use of found objects and industrial materials stems from my fieldworks in urban villages and informal settlements, where I came to understand that “resource scarcity” does not necessarily imply absence, but rather conditions of ownership and access. In such environments, the very notion of “waste” becomes contingent and culturally defined.
In cities with segmented governance, wealthier districts tend to prioritise cleanliness, safety, and predictability. Street-level tidiness becomes a form of cultural and spatial control. By contrast, in communities under greater social and economic pressure, waste is not swiftly removed, but remains visible and available. Residents are more likely to reclaim, repair, or reconfigure these loose, mobile components. This is not merely a matter of necessity, but a cultural strategy: salvaging becomes a form of spatial agency. Items deemed "useless" by some are redefined as potential resources, and the circulation and improvisational use of materials become integral to everyday spatial practice.
When collecting materials myself, I often feel as if I’m racing against time. In the area where I live, strict street-cleaning regimes mean that reusable materials often disappear quickly. I’ve missed promising components due to hesitation or poor timing. By contrast, the makeshift shelters built by nearby rough sleepers demonstrate a striking sense of appropriateness—material choices, structural logic, and spatial placement all reveal an attuned environmental awareness: which locations offer safety, which materials endure, which surfaces provide support, and where brief occupation is viable.
I do not intend to romanticise these precarious conditions. But within the traces of repair, adaptation and reassembly lies a powerful proposition: that space is not always produced from blueprints, but from the improvisational negotiations of everyday life. These “grey zones” often fall outside formal planning systems, yet continue to grow in patchwork fashion, forming complex and deeply lived urban realities.
They are not truly “invisible”, but are instead rendered unseen—marginalised through policy, aesthetics, or systemic oversight. This condition of intentional invisibility leads me to ask: what forms of inhabitation truly belong to urban life? And which spaces deserve to be preserved, acknowledged, and respected?
我之所以选择这些材料，是因为在对中国城中村和墨西哥等地非正式住房的研究中，我逐渐意识到：“资源匮乏”不一定意味着“没有”，而是“被谁所拥有、谁可以接近”。在这样的社区中，“废弃物”本身就带有文化属性，值得被重新理解。 在城市治理结构高度分区的背景下，高收入社区往往更强调“整洁、安全、可预期”，街道的干净成为一种空间规训的象征。而在社会与经济压力更大的区域中，废弃物并不会被快速清除，反而以一种“可见—可取”的方式存在于公共空间中。居民也更容易就地取材，修复或重组这些易于拆解与流通的材料。这不仅是出于生存的需要，也是一种文化策略：“拾取”成为空间能动性的体现。他人视为“无用”的物品被重新定义为“潜在资源”，而材料的流转与即兴使用，也构成了日常空间实践的一部分。
在我进行材料收集时，总觉得自己像在与时间赛跑。由于我所居住区域的清洁管理较为严格，街道上的可回收材料往往稍纵即逝。好几次，我因为犹豫或时机不对，错过了心仪的材料。反观附近流浪者所搭建的临时庇护所，让我感受到一种令人惊叹的适切性 —— 他们对于材料的选择、构造方式与空间布局似乎都经过了因地制宜的判断，展现出对周遭环境敏锐的判断力：哪些区域相对安全、哪些材料足够坚固、哪些结构可以借力、哪里适合短暂停留。
我无意浪漫化生存处境。但正是在这些修补、改装、重构的痕迹中，我们得以重新思考空间的本质：它未必起始于建筑图纸，而源于生活里不断发生的即兴操演。这些“灰区”通常游离于城市规划之外，却以拼贴的方式自发生长，构成真实且复杂的城市生活图景。它们并非真正“不可见”，而是在制度、政策、审美或具体语境中被有意忽略、推至边缘。这些空间的“被遮蔽”，促使我在创作中进一步追问：什么样的居住方式才算真正属于城市生活？又有哪些空间值得被保留、被呈现、被尊重？
Formally, the work hovers between structural framework and improvised assembly. Gestures such as binding, perforating, suspending, and leaning operate as joint experiments—responses to the inherent properties of each material and tests of their potential as connective elements. While the work does not depict or reconstruct any specific location, its compositional logic is informed by spatial gestures observed in contexts such as Chinese urban villages and self-built settlements in Mexico City. These environments served as critical reference points during the making process—particularly in how individuals negotiate space through adaptive construction, informal support structures, and everyday acts of structural improvisation. Rather than functioning as illustrative content, these references are internalised as sculptural syntax. The aim is not to represent, but to translate these observations into a vocabulary of material connection, instability, and provisional cohesion.
《关节练习》是一个持续推进的系列，我在其中继续探讨个体在过渡性、脆弱居住环境中如何通过创造性的临时布置、拼贴组合与材料的再利用，适应并建立栖居秩序。每件作品均被构思为可拆卸、可重构的模块化结构，材料主要包括我在伦敦西部日常散步时在垃圾投放点收集的闲置品，以及家中边角料，辅以部分标准化的工业构件。在形式上，它游走于结构框架与即兴装配之间。诸如“缠绕”、“穿孔”、“悬挂”、“搭靠”等连接方式，是我基于材料特性所进行的节点练习，也是对不同材料之间连接可能性的尝试。尽管作品并不再现特定地点，其构成逻辑却受到中国城中村与墨西哥自建聚落等空间实践中所见“空间手势”的启发。这些环境在创作过程中为我提供了关键参照，尤其是在个体如何通过自发建构、非正式支撑结构及日常性的空间改造，来应对不稳定栖居条件方面。这些参照并非具象再现，而是被内化为一种雕塑语法。我希望将这些观察转化为一种以材料连接、不稳定性与临时性秩序为核心的语言系统。
The use of found objects and industrial materials stems from my fieldworks in urban villages and informal settlements, where I came to understand that “resource scarcity” does not necessarily imply absence, but rather conditions of ownership and access. In such environments, the very notion of “waste” becomes contingent and culturally defined.
In cities with segmented governance, wealthier districts tend to prioritise cleanliness, safety, and predictability. Street-level tidiness becomes a form of cultural and spatial control. By contrast, in communities under greater social and economic pressure, waste is not swiftly removed, but remains visible and available. Residents are more likely to reclaim, repair, or reconfigure these loose, mobile components. This is not merely a matter of necessity, but a cultural strategy: salvaging becomes a form of spatial agency. Items deemed "useless" by some are redefined as potential resources, and the circulation and improvisational use of materials become integral to everyday spatial practice.
When collecting materials myself, I often feel as if I’m racing against time. In the area where I live, strict street-cleaning regimes mean that reusable materials often disappear quickly. I’ve missed promising components due to hesitation or poor timing. By contrast, the makeshift shelters built by nearby rough sleepers demonstrate a striking sense of appropriateness—material choices, structural logic, and spatial placement all reveal an attuned environmental awareness: which locations offer safety, which materials endure, which surfaces provide support, and where brief occupation is viable.
I do not intend to romanticise these precarious conditions. But within the traces of repair, adaptation and reassembly lies a powerful proposition: that space is not always produced from blueprints, but from the improvisational negotiations of everyday life. These “grey zones” often fall outside formal planning systems, yet continue to grow in patchwork fashion, forming complex and deeply lived urban realities.
They are not truly “invisible”, but are instead rendered unseen—marginalised through policy, aesthetics, or systemic oversight. This condition of intentional invisibility leads me to ask: what forms of inhabitation truly belong to urban life? And which spaces deserve to be preserved, acknowledged, and respected?
我之所以选择这些材料，是因为在对中国城中村和墨西哥等地非正式住房的研究中，我逐渐意识到：“资源匮乏”不一定意味着“没有”，而是“被谁所拥有、谁可以接近”。在这样的社区中，“废弃物”本身就带有文化属性，值得被重新理解。 在城市治理结构高度分区的背景下，高收入社区往往更强调“整洁、安全、可预期”，街道的干净成为一种空间规训的象征。而在社会与经济压力更大的区域中，废弃物并不会被快速清除，反而以一种“可见—可取”的方式存在于公共空间中。居民也更容易就地取材，修复或重组这些易于拆解与流通的材料。这不仅是出于生存的需要，也是一种文化策略：“拾取”成为空间能动性的体现。他人视为“无用”的物品被重新定义为“潜在资源”，而材料的流转与即兴使用，也构成了日常空间实践的一部分。
在我进行材料收集时，总觉得自己像在与时间赛跑。由于我所居住区域的清洁管理较为严格，街道上的可回收材料往往稍纵即逝。好几次，我因为犹豫或时机不对，错过了心仪的材料。反观附近流浪者所搭建的临时庇护所，让我感受到一种令人惊叹的适切性 —— 他们对于材料的选择、构造方式与空间布局似乎都经过了因地制宜的判断，展现出对周遭环境敏锐的判断力：哪些区域相对安全、哪些材料足够坚固、哪些结构可以借力、哪里适合短暂停留。
我无意浪漫化生存处境。但正是在这些修补、改装、重构的痕迹中，我们得以重新思考空间的本质：它未必起始于建筑图纸，而源于生活里不断发生的即兴操演。这些“灰区”通常游离于城市规划之外，却以拼贴的方式自发生长，构成真实且复杂的城市生活图景。它们并非真正“不可见”，而是在制度、政策、审美或具体语境中被有意忽略、推至边缘。这些空间的“被遮蔽”，促使我在创作中进一步追问：什么样的居住方式才算真正属于城市生活？又有哪些空间值得被保留、被呈现、被尊重？