Yang Weifeng

Your project, “Heaven and Earth: The Hexi Corridor,” spans an extensive 20,000 kilometers across a historic and unique landscape. What inspired you to explore this specific region, and what did you hope to uncover during your journey?

The Hexi Corridor is steeped in historical and cultural legacy—once a vital artery of the ancient Silk Road and a convergence zone of four major civilizations. It holds dazzling remnants of the past and unique natural landscapes, including deserts, mountains, oases, and the Gobi. A profound tranquility and vitality runs through it, drawing me in with an almost mystical force.

Throughout my journey, I often felt that I wasn’t choosing Hexi—the Hexi Corridor had chosen me. In every location, I encountered moments that felt like they had waited for me for a thousand years. As I lifted the camera, I would silently say: “Thank you for waiting.”

During this project, I aspired to be someone “looking up at the stars,” tracing the enduring wisdom embedded in the daily lives of the locals and capturing the subtle intersections between human activity and the natural world. My goal was to express the unique vitality, spiritual temperament, and ethnic character of the Hexi Corridor.

The Hexi Corridor holds significant historical importance as part of the ancient Silk Road. How do you balance capturing its historical and cultural essence while also addressing modern-day ecological and social issues?

I explored historical landmarks like Yumen Pass, Jiayuguan, and remnants of the Great Wall, documenting their emotional significance to locals and the cultural narratives they embody. For instance, standing atop Wushaoling, the eastern end of the corridor, I imagined the heroic spirit of the Han general Huo Qubing, immortalized in the moment he turned back toward the Central Plains on horseback.

As for contemporary challenges, I paid special attention to ecological issues such as desertification and water scarcity. I photographed drip-irrigation fields and water-saving farming practices to highlight efforts to rehabilitate the land. Through this, I aimed to remind viewers that as beneficiaries of the Earth, we should cherish and give back to our environment.

Socially, I focused on agricultural cooperatives and new labor formations, depicting how traditional ways are intersecting with modern transformations.

How did your work in industrial photography influence your approach to capturing the natural and rural landscapes of the Hexi Corridor?

My early industrial photography transitioned from poetic form to a more rigorous documentary process. The structural discipline I developed—keen attention to line, form, and order—deepened my ability to see and capture rhythm in both natural and built environments. The expansive and solemn tone of industrial imagery also shaped my choice to approach the vast landscapes of the Hexi Corridor with a wide-angle, reverent gaze.

You mentioned a “calm yet keen observational perspective.” Could you elaborate on how this approach guided your creative process throughout the project?

I integrated the philosophy of “investigating things to acquire knowledge” (格物致知) from Wang Yangming into my practice. “Investigating” involves rational and patient observation, and “acquiring knowledge” is driven by inner resonance. I avoid pressing the shutter impulsively.

For example, a lush cornfield on a dry slope attracted me—not just as a sign of vitality but as a metaphor for human extraction from nature. This duality is what I seek in my work: culturally and geographically resonant imagery unique to the Hexi Corridor.

The juxtaposition of desolation and vitality in the Hexi Corridor is central to your work. What do you hope your photographs communicate about the relationship between humans and the land?

I aim to portray a relationship that is both symbiotic and filled with tension. The land nourishes civilizations, as seen in farming and pastoral scenes. Yet its harshness—desert winds, isolation, scarcity—tests the resilience of its people. I hope to convey the idea that humans and land form a shared destiny. We must learn to revere the Earth, not conquer it, and strive for a path of sustainable coexistence.

Can you speak more about the challenges you faced while traveling through such remote and diverse areas? How did the environment itself shape your work?

There were many challenges. The terrain is vast and varied, often requiring me to hike alone for long distances. Weather patterns were unpredictable, especially in mountainous regions. Though infrastructure is surprisingly good, solitude posed a psychological challenge—especially when facing desolate or unfamiliar landscapes.

As a naturally timid person, I sometimes performed personal rituals—like pouring a bit of alcohol and speaking softly to the land—to soothe my fears. I never turned off my car engine in remote areas, fearing the ignition might fail. My 13 years as a petroleum worker taught me perseverance, which enabled me to complete this 8-month, 20,000-km solo journey—sleeping, eating, and living in my car.

Ironically, solitude became a gift. It allowed me to engage deeply with the land and channel my thoughts into visual form. The landscape—vast, quiet, defiant—shaped the epic and introspective mood of the series. This is why I often composed my images with wide, panoramic views—the broader the visual field, the more space it allowed for metaphorical hope to emerge. This macro perspective is not only an aesthetic choice, but the spiritual anchor of the entire Hexi Corridor series.

In your artist statement, you express reverence for the land. How do you think photography can serve as a tool for preserving and honoring the landscapes it captures?

As the French painter Jean-François Millet once said, “The mission of art is a mission of love.” I believe that photography should begin with compassion, reverence, and a sincere connection to the subject. We must create with dignity and empathy—not as distant observers, but as respectful witnesses.

When an image is infused with soul, it transcends documentation. It becomes a vessel for awareness, a mirror for the viewer’s conscience, and a quiet force for protecting what might otherwise be overlooked. Photography, for me, is a spiritual practice, a way of healing, and an ethical response to the fragility of both land and life.