She wakes up in pain every morning.
But she doesn’t tell anyone. She goes to school, acts fine in front of colleagues, treats it like professional dedication. “When people say they can’t tell, that’s when I’m happiest. Because I take it as a sign of professionalism.”
This is Mickey. Twenty-three years ago, she was painting. Twenty-three years later, she’s still at it.
A lot happened in between. Moves, identity crises, her husband’s work falling through, constant physical pain, a cat that had been with her for years, and countless moments of asking what’s the point of painting any of this.
She didn’t stop. Not because she didn’t want to. She couldn’t stop.
“You’ve spent so much, built up so much, and then—boom—everything’s gone.”
This isn’t just the predicament of making art. It’s a metaphor for life. She’s been through too many “booms.” Mickey is a parasitic creator.
Her paintings can’t grow in a vacuum. They have to attach themselves to the structures of real life—pressure, collision,来往, the trivial stuff.
Two things running in parallel isn’t distraction. It’s a way of keeping herself from caring too much about any single one. “When you pour everything into one thing, your attachment to results gets heavier. That’s how I am.”
It’s a form of self-protection. Twenty-three years of life experience taught her that. She knows her ceiling—and she’s clear-eyed about it. “It’s not about the art. My real life is hitting a wall. That’s something art can’t fix.”
Her predicament isn’t that nobody’s buying her work. It’s that survival itself consumes too much bandwidth, causing twenty-three years of积累 to repeatedly reset to zero.
The online exhibition is titled Where Has the Heart Gone? 心在何处.
She doesn’t write detailed descriptions of her own work. The curator, Tan Xiaozheng, wrote poetic introductions to the pieces. She approved.
She believes some things don’t need to be explained. Explanation is control—and her creation has never been controlled.
May 21st: the online exhibition goes live. 9:30 PM, a live broadcast on 小红书 (Xiaohongshu). This is the first time in twenty-three years Mickey has appeared in public. She’s still painting.
Not because she’s good at it. Because stopping would leave her even more at a loss for what to do with herself.
The exhibition’s title asks a question: Where has the heart gone?
She may not have an answer. But she’s looking.
That’s enough.
Where Has the Heart Gone? is now live. May 21, 2026, 9:30 PM — tune in for a live broadcast on Xiaohongshu: @Backwall.
Visit the online exhibition:
Shanghai: http://tanxiaozheng.com/mickey/
Hong Kong: http://www.backwall.cn/mickey/
⚠️ For artwork inquiries, please contact the artist directly or reach out to Backwall official.