YE SIANJIE
/* 新增鍵盤左右鍵切換作品的功能 */
document.addEventListener('DOMContentLoaded', function() {
// 取得按鈕元素
const prevButton = document.querySelector('.prev-post');
const nextButton = document.querySelector('.next-post');
// 監聽鍵盤事件
document.addEventListener('keydown', function(event) {
// 判斷按下的按鍵
if (event.key === 'ArrowLeft' && prevButton) { // 檢查 prevButton 是否存在
if (prevButton.href) { // 檢查 prevButton 是否具有 href 屬性
// 觸發上一篇連結
window.location.href = prevButton.href;
}
} else if (event.key === 'ArrowRight' && nextButton) { // 檢查 nextButton 是否存在
if (nextButton.href) { // 檢查 nextButton 是否具有 href 屬性
// 觸發下一篇連結
window.location.href = nextButton.href;
}
}
});
});中EN日
document.addEventListener('DOMContentLoaded', function() {
// 取得隱藏的 WPML 語言選擇器
var wpmlLanguageSwitcher = document.querySelector('.wpml-ls-statics-shortcode_actions ul');
// 取得你的菜單
var yourMenu = document.querySelector('.lang-link-container');
// 檢查 WPML 語言選擇器是否存在
if (wpmlLanguageSwitcher && yourMenu) {
// 處理 ZH
var zhItem = wpmlLanguageSwitcher.querySelector('.wpml-ls-item-zh-hant');
var zhMenuItem = yourMenu.querySelector('.lang-link-ZH');
if (zhItem && zhMenuItem) {
var zhLink = zhItem.querySelector('a');
zhMenuItem.href = zhLink.href;
if (zhItem.classList.contains('wpml-ls-current-language')) {
zhMenuItem.classList.add('current-page-lang');
}
} else {
zhMenuItem.style.display = 'none';
}
// 處理 EN
var enItem = wpmlLanguageSwitcher.querySelector('.wpml-ls-item-en');
var enMenuItem = yourMenu.querySelector('.lang-link-EN');
if (enItem && enMenuItem) {
var enLink = enItem.querySelector('a');
enMenuItem.href = enLink.href;
if (enItem.classList.contains('wpml-ls-current-language')) {
enMenuItem.classList.add('current-page-lang');
}
} else {
enMenuItem.style.display = 'none';
}
// 處理 JA
var jaItem = wpmlLanguageSwitcher.querySelector('.wpml-ls-item-ja');
var jaMenuItem = yourMenu.querySelector('.lang-link-JA');
if (jaItem && jaMenuItem) {
var jaLink = jaItem.querySelector('a');
jaMenuItem.href = jaLink.href;
if (jaItem.classList.contains('wpml-ls-current-language')) {
jaMenuItem.classList.add('current-page-lang');
}
} else {
jaMenuItem.style.display = 'none';
}
}
});jQuery(document).ready(function($) {
var header = $('.singlework-header');
var headerHeight = header.outerHeight();
var isHeaderVisible = false;
var scrollThreshold = 10; //定滾動多少 px 才會觸發
var lastScrollTop = 0;
var headerContainer = $('.singlework-page');
var scrollTimeout = null; //向上滾動時,延遲多久才會顯示
$(window).on('load', function() {
header.css('top', -headerHeight + 'px');
});
$(document).mousemove(function(event) {
if (event.pageY < 50 && !isHeaderVisible) {
showHeader();
}
});
headerContainer.scroll(function() {
var scrollTop = $(this).scrollTop();
var delta = scrollTop - lastScrollTop; // 計算滾動方向
if (!isHeaderVisible) {
// 向上滾動超過閾值時,延遲顯示 header
if (delta < 0 && Math.abs(delta) > scrollThreshold) {
if (scrollTimeout) {
clearTimeout(scrollTimeout);
}
scrollTimeout = setTimeout(function() {
showHeader();
}, 150);
}
} else {
// **只有向下滾動時才關閉 header**
if (delta > 0 && Math.abs(delta) > scrollThreshold) {
hideHeader();
}
}
lastScrollTop = scrollTop;
});
$(document).click(function(event) {
if (!$(event.target).closest('.singlework-header').length && isHeaderVisible) {
hideHeader();
}
});
function showHeader() {
header.addClass('show');
isHeaderVisible = true;
}
function hideHeader() {
header.removeClass('show');
isHeaderVisible = false;
}
});Street Trees
false
document.addEventListener("DOMContentLoaded", function() {
// 獲取 meta field 的隱藏元素
let metaFieldElement = document.querySelector(".singlework-pure-en-title-switcher");
// 獲取 .singlework-title 標題
let postTitle = document.querySelector(".singlework-title");
// 確保 metaFieldElement 和 postTitle 存在
if (metaFieldElement && postTitle) {
// 讀取 meta field 的值並去除前後空格
let metaValue = metaFieldElement.innerText.trim().toLowerCase();
// 如果 meta field 值是 "true",則將字距設為 0
if (metaValue === "true") {
postTitle.style.letterSpacing = "0";
}
}
});2011
Cement, metal, acrylic, cypress leaves
90 x 90 x 112 cm
Street Trees is a quiet work—a tabletop that at first glance resembles an architectural model, embedded with the fragmented shape of a city. But this is not a map of streets, nor a miniature of buildings. It is a landscape composed of absences: a topography of voids. Like silent traces of fracture, fragments of transparent acrylic are inlaid into the cold concrete surface, beneath which rest scattered leaves of cypress—those unnamed patches of green that survive, barely, between cracks of urban concrete. The plants are not symbolic; they merely remain where something has been hollowed out, like a tolerated presence.
In this piece, the artist constructs a structure. The relationship between trees and streets is inverted: buildings become voids, while greenery fills the negative spaces carved out of the city. Human design and vegetal growth interlace on the tabletop, yet never merge. They interpenetrate, overlay, and resist cohesion—like the marginal zones in a city we rarely notice: the broken soil around tree roots, moss creeping through sidewalk seams, or the quiet, unclaimed plots behind housing clusters. Everything that appears to be fully planned is already riddled with fracture.
During the exhibition period, the leaves slowly dry. Their color fades, their texture turns brittle, and eventually they become a pale, nearly grayed surface. This transformation is not a dramatic collapse but a slow, irreversible loss. It has no sound, nor demands interpretation, yet it registers immediately in the senses: something once present is now being spent. The artist does not simulate nature, but through the dying rhythm of plants, creates a subtle and continual shift—one that resists instant viewing and instead demands repeated attention.
Street Trees offers no position, constructs no argument. With its minimalist structure, it marks a relationship—between city and nature, between planning and growth, between void and filling. In this work, viewing is not urged; time unfolds on its own. The sealed fragments of greenery slowly turn, under light, into sedimented memory—a withering terrain, a breath preserved and vanishing at once.
In this piece, the artist constructs a structure. The relationship between trees and streets is inverted: buildings become voids, while greenery fills the negative spaces carved out of the city. Human design and vegetal growth interlace on the tabletop, yet never merge. They interpenetrate, overlay, and resist cohesion—like the marginal zones in a city we rarely notice: the broken soil around tree roots, moss creeping through sidewalk seams, or the quiet, unclaimed plots behind housing clusters. Everything that appears to be fully planned is already riddled with fracture.
During the exhibition period, the leaves slowly dry. Their color fades, their texture turns brittle, and eventually they become a pale, nearly grayed surface. This transformation is not a dramatic collapse but a slow, irreversible loss. It has no sound, nor demands interpretation, yet it registers immediately in the senses: something once present is now being spent. The artist does not simulate nature, but through the dying rhythm of plants, creates a subtle and continual shift—one that resists instant viewing and instead demands repeated attention.
Street Trees offers no position, constructs no argument. With its minimalist structure, it marks a relationship—between city and nature, between planning and growth, between void and filling. In this work, viewing is not urged; time unfolds on its own. The sealed fragments of greenery slowly turn, under light, into sedimented memory—a withering terrain, a breath preserved and vanishing at once.
2026 CopyRight ©




