Based in Tampa, Florida, Rui Wang is a China born cross-disciplinary artist exploring memory through analog photography – particularly, those memories that escape from us, whispering away into obscurity. In his new book Not Everything Was Seen, the “almost seen is an invitation” – when an image holds back, the viewer steps forward. “A reflection on glass, a figure behind a curtain, dusk light softening a street corner — these are places where presence is felt without being fully declared,” says Rui. “I am interested in that gentle participation, the way a picture can become a mirror rather than a statement.”
Rui’s photographing in an ambient fashion acknowledges scenes without claiming them, photographing as an eternal outsider. In this photobook, Rui shoots typical holiday scenes as if he’s a ghost just passing through, observing events like Bruno Ganz’s guardian angel in Wings Of Desire. Growing up in Taiyuan, China, where traditional painting and calligraphy taught Rui how to care about line, rhythm and negative space, Rui’s photography follows the same kind of rare contemplation that allows his film images to create a low humming narrative. “I want the images to breathe so viewers can meet them halfway. The almost visible matters because life often happens at the edges — in the pause, the afterglow, the trace that remains,” says Rui.