Mahjong and Tangyuan
As a Hakka from Taiwan, I’ve often felt distant from my cultural roots. Like many of my generation, I never fully learned the Hakka language, which makes it hard to access the traditions and stories tied to it. When my Aˊ Poˇ (grandmother) passed away earlier this year, I began to reflect on that gap—not just between us, but between myself and a fading cultural identity.

My memories of her are vivid but fragmented: the clack of mahjong tiles, the taste of savory tangyuan, the floral patterns that filled her home. Through photography, I attempt to visualize what it feels like to be a young Hakka person in modern Taiwan—caught between memory and absence, presence and disconnection.

The series includes staged interior scenes, symbolic objects passed down from my grandmother, and blurred self-portraits focusing on body parts like the head or feet. The repetition of Hakka floral fabrics becomes a visual metaphor for identity—sometimes comforting, sometimes overwhelming. These images are quiet, but they speak to the tension of carrying tradition without fully understanding it.

Mahjong and Tangyuan is both personal and cultural. It’s not a search for answers, but a process of giving shape to inherited feelings—and a reflection on how heritage lingers, even when it’s hard to hold onto.



Process #1 Rebuild scenes


Process #2 Belongings


Process #3 Self Portraits



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