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Description
Usually I don't retrace the things that I vectorised from a photo, but this time I didn't want the dots and squiggles to interfer with the important part of this concept. This meant a few hours (in between being distracted by various things) in Illustrator roughly tracing the plane again, it was more fun than I anticipated and I enjoy seeing it as a toy with its wobbly lines and defined colouring.

Oh, for those of you who can't read Chinese, the words are a phrase: Fate acts like the Wind (doesn't sound half as decent in a translation )

There's a certain romanticism associated with fate, especially in hindsight, when you realise you might never have met someone because of some strange coincedence or circumstance.

I wanted to celebrate it by using this toyplane that I've had since I was young. The trails flying away from it are bits of memory attached to it, and as they flow on, they will collect somewhere else. But more importantly - just like the dandelion - those memories will reach far and wide.

I don't want to explain everything here, but I think such a concept is already engraved into everyone's mind from all the movies and songs that we've seen and heard.

But I don't ever want you to have regrets for what might have been.

Description
Usually I don't retrace the things that I vectorised from a photo, but this time I didn't want the dots and squiggles to interfer with the important part of this concept. This meant a few hours (in between being distracted by various things) in Illustrator roughly tracing the plane again, it was more fun than I anticipated and I enjoy seeing it as a toy with its wobbly lines and defined colouring.

Oh, for those of you who can't read Chinese, the words are a phrase: Fate acts like the Wind (doesn't sound half as decent in a translation )

There's a certain romanticism associated with fate, especially in hindsight, when you realise you might never have met someone because of some strange coincedence or circumstance.

I wanted to celebrate it by using this toyplane that I've had since I was young. The trails flying away from it are bits of memory attached to it, and as they flow on, they will collect somewhere else. But more importantly - just like the dandelion - those memories will reach far and wide.

I don't want to explain everything here, but I think such a concept is already engraved into everyone's mind from all the movies and songs that we've seen and heard.

But I don't ever want you to have regrets for what might have been.