I Work as a Photographer in Xiamen

My name is Zhang Ke, a photographer who almost couldn't survive in Xiamen. They say I have "principles" - which translates to: I don't know the rules and I don't know how to praise. I was once dragged into the most glamorous backside of this city: Su Qing taught me that the shutter is a money printing machine and time is money. Vivian used a wad of cash to test the "size" of my lens. On Mr. Wang's yacht, they asked me with a smile: Can those old-fashioned things I shoot be used as food? I have also touched the hottest roots of this island: The sweat of the chest-beating uncle exploded into gold powder in the sunshine of the demolished ancestral hall. The fingertips of the paper maker give the silent god a final look. In the aroma of Gulangyu pie, Boss Cai, who has been making pie all his life, said: "This is the only flavor left." There is also an old man who has been shooting films in Xiamen for forty years. He said to me: "Young people, with their eyes, love the clean air." During the day, my camera focuses on beads of sweat, wrinkles, gestures that are about to disappear, and old houses that are about to collapse. At night, in my viewfinder are the champagne on the yacht, the blurry laser light in the bar, and the private souvenirs that can be "negotiated". Photography is not only about turning moments into eternity. It is also from the glitz and natural disappearance of asking prices, Snatch a little real weight, For this city, leave some impressions of "eyes, love and freshness". This is a visual diary about perseverance, recording and choice. It is also a story about a young photographer focusing on himself on the coastline of desire.