The subject of the painting series comes from the daily scene that I see from my studio on the rooftop. The rooftop constructions are so common yet so particular. When I look over the rooftops, the pragmatic tole constructions often do not correspond to the visual and the form of the architecture itself. So they form a special scenery. For many years, I have been looking at the scenes without detecting the various savors derived the forms. I was particularly attracted to the geometric shapes made of tole and the water towers above them. The pragmatic constructions shine with charm under the sun. But when we look at them closely, they are far from pleasant. The convergence of beauty and ugliness represents a vague condition that exists without authenticity. Since long, I have been used to looking at the sky before lowering my head to enter the studio. I also unconsciously ignored the scene in sight. The added constructions made of red, green and gray toles on the rooftops make a pressure to my sight with repression among the narrow allies. Therefore looking at the sky becomes my only visual extension. Luckily, the neighboring rooftop constructions are about the same height to that of my studio. I can still have some view of the sky. However, higher buildings gradually appear behind the array of constructions, and the rooftop constructions continue to metamorphose and increase like ameba. Modernist architecture form surrounds me in an imperceptible organic manner. Visual escape becomes a habitual rite. Once, I took plane to Tainan. Just before landing, I happened to see a mass of illegal constructions whose rooftops shined under the sun in the afternoon. The glaring lights and colors made a surprising and dazzling scene. Afterwards, I thought over the visually paralyzing scenery before my studio. I took out the original colors and created a world with white wax. There, forms and colors are floating and sealed ; the existence of images becomes inexplicable, as they are between the underlying surface and the white wax. They neither emerge nor precipitate ; they float between the layers of wax. Such an ambiguous existence immediately embodies my feelings for the object that I depicted. The feeling is familiar yet also strange.