The days repeat themselves. People go to work and leave work; buses reach and depart from the terminals; the Light Rail trains trail along the streets. Life passes in a static, regular rhythm from one day to the next. Even those who call themselves artists cannot escape from this fate.

For a few years I searched for a way to illuminate the place I live in, an expression that I would be contented with. The search stopped when I found the paintbrushes of my late father which stirred my interest. My father was a graphic designer in advertising; he painted to sustain the livelihood of our family of four. If he was still alive, he would have reached retirement age. He might have been wandering around town with me, standing behind me to watch my camera and I at work.
I pick up the paintbrushes. I paint in watercolours, in rudimentary techniques and strokes, filling the photographs with colour blocks. I paint to destroy the mundane and regular scenery of Tin Shui Wai in the photographs, one after another, until even the skies are filled.

In this repetitive act, my father and I recreate a new scenery.

每天重覆又重覆的生活，上班下班、巴士駛入開出、輕鐵車卡緩緩走過，每天都過著很有規律的生活，即使以創作自居的人也逃不過此命運。

數年來，我一直尋找一種滿意的方式來表現我所居住的地方，直至在家發現過身的父親所留下來的畫筆引起我的興趣。父親在世前曾是一位平面廣告美工師，他可謂以畫筆養活了我們一家四口，若果他仍在世，相信已經到了退休的年齡，與我於此地閒逛，在我背後看著我操作相機。

我拿著畫筆，以水彩配以拙劣的技巧與筆法，在相片上一格一格的上色，把一張張從天水圍拍下來既日常又尋常的風光，一次又一次的進行破壞，直到天空留白的部份也填滿。

在重覆又重覆的行為之中，我與他重新建構出一道風光。