Abstract (March 2025)
The Chinese Banyan (Ficus microcarpa) is a master of resilience, thriving in places where few other trees could survive. Its seeds, carried by birds and bats, often land in the cracks of dry-stacked masonry walls, needing only the slightest trace of moisture to take root. Once germinated, the seed sends down aerial roots in search of soil, which, upon finding, rapidly harden into thick, wooden tendrils. These roots fuse together over time, forming multiple trunks that grip their surroundings with an unrelenting hold. In nature, Ficus microcarpa often begins its life atop another plant, eventually overtaking its host. In Hong Kong, the host is often stone itself—massive masonry structures that the tree slowly weaves into, merging so completely that it becomes inseparable from the architecture that once contained it.
Amidst one of the world’s most developed cities, these banyans thrive in unexpected places. Many, I believe, were intentionally planted by the British colonial administration in the late 1800s, providing much-needed shade in Hong Kong’s subtropical climate. From there, their seeds spread via birds and bats. The giant “wild” banyans that now lend the city an alluring, almost mythical presence are, in part, the result of neglect during the Japanese occupation in World War II. With wall and garden maintenance abandoned during the war, these trees took root and flourished, embedding themselves into the very fabric of Hong Kong’s urban landscape.
It is these unintentional blooms that captivate my imagination. I struggle to find the perfect metaphor for what they represent, yet there is an undeniable allegory in their spirit of persistence and adaptation.
There is something poetic about a seed, once planted by human hands to shape the natural world around architecture, passing through cycles of fruit, dispersal, and regrowth. A bird consumes the fruit, unknowingly carrying its seed to a crack in a manmade wall—a wall built by those same human hands. From there, the seed takes root, binding itself inextricably to its host. Over time, it grows so completely into the stone that it can no longer be removed without destroying what supports it .
Hong Kong is a city like no other—a place where past and future coexist in a seamless blur. A city that rises vertically from the harbor, pulsing with an energy that is uniquely its own. By highlighting this small yet remarkable aspect of its natural world, I hope to draw attention to what so often goes unnoticed—a wild force of nature thriving in the midst of concrete, steel, glass, and artificial light.
Depicted in the colours of neon pink and magenta through the use of full spectrum (Infrared) camera. Hong Kong blooms brightly.
Series in progress.
Currently Previewing select work at Blank Gallery in Haymarket Sydney.
March 13 – April 7