In February 2007, I was invited to create a site-specific installation, and chose to work with the Liao Collection in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The space—a former printing factory—featured a soaring ceiling, large windows, and antique walls layered with decades of peeling ink. A number of timeworn stones rested quietly on the floor, lending the room a calm, dignified presence.

I wrapped the Liao’s stone collection with Japanese washi paper and gently rubbed each surface using handmade charcoal. The result was a unified space, as if lightly dusted with snow. At its center stood a transparent resin sculpture—approximately 14 inches cubed—on a slightly elevated pedestal in the stone garden. I titled the installation: Earthlings – Countries in Stone Garden.

I placed small rubbings in holes along the wall. When I first saw them, they reminded me of planets in space—or of satellite images of Earth’s countries. Each “country” has its own setting, culture, and people, yet viewed from afar, they seem alike.

Plastic is often dismissed as cheap and disposable. But here, I used it differently—as something quietly monumental, like the monolith floating in space in 2001: A Space Odyssey.