I have lived in Hong Kong for nine years. I am Chinese and speak Cantonese. I live in a very local neighborhood, and yet I am still viewed as an outsider and foreigner, and still feel like one. I choose to photograph in homes of people here, to get a sense of how they live, and of how people are. No matter how much I think I understand this culture, no matter how similar it is to my home, photographing in this place that I did not grow up in, there are always things that are surprising, alien, and unique.
Hong Kong, like all big cities, has an environment that perpetuates the disconnection and anonymity that one feels in a city. Surrounded by millions of people, we are still alone. We don't know our neighbors, we don't know our fellow commuters. We live packed into blocks, and share physical spaces, albeit separated by walls, and yet have no idea how the person next door lives. Photographing in people's homes, and communal domestic spaces, brings me beyond this shared alienation, and into completely disparate worlds behind closed doors.
For many viewers who do not live in Hong Kong or Asia, the images bring a sense of familiarity. They see homes, lifestyles and aspirations similar to theirs. And yet, it is a place and a people that are inherently foreign, and different, to their own.
