Who knew that two bags of soil weigh as much as my whole body. The shop owner said the soil came from Yangming Mountain.
I borrowed a small cart from Beifong Coffee to carry it, but the burlap bags started leaking soil. So I gave up and called a cab.
While we were stuck in traffic, the driver said, “You’re just skin and bones, but you’re pretty strong! Why not get a guy to help you?” I said, “I prefer to rely on myself.”
Knowing this action would definitely put me at a disadvantage when confronting my arch-nemesis, the Taipei MRT authority, I chose a roadside wall across the street from the MRT area. Coincidentally, two of my stickers—“Love” and “Taipei Hurts”—were still stuck on the nearby pipe.
I took off my shoes and stepped into the big flower pot. I used my hands as shovels, scooping soil from the sacks and repeatedly filling the pot. Finally, I added a layer of coffee grounds from Coffee Dumbo as fertilizer.
I prepared a few yellow flowers. Some I planted in the soil, others I held in my hands.
A middle-aged man, smoking just a few steps away, looked at me and asked, “Is this performance art? Isn’t it a bit too intense?” I smiled and asked, “Is it?” He said he was a vendor at the nearby market.

A woman with glasses came over and began a series of questions. Here's a small part of our conversation:
“What did you study in university?” “Literature.”
“Which school?” “The one in Gongguan. (National Taiwan University)”
“Oh, no wonder you think deeper."
“Not really. I skipped most classes. Honestly, I think what and where you study doesn’t matter. What shaped me was my life experience.”
“What do you think your professors would say if they saw you like this?”
“I don’t know. I try not to assume or expect too much. If I had to guess—I don’t think they’d be surprised.”
“You’d be great at modern dance. You should’ve studied philosophy. But then again, you don’t need to, you’ve already found your insights through life.”
Turns out she was also an English literature major. She used to teach at a university, now she works in journalism. She gave me her number.
The flowers ran out quickly. A photographer friend who came to help with documentation saw this and brought two more buckets of flowers. Suddenly, I was transformed into a red and green Christmas potted plant. The Christmas Eve date was actually a coincidence; I only realized much later that I had strayed into the festive atmosphere.
These questions came up again and again: Is this an event? Are you taking photos? Is this for an ad? A fundraiser? What group are you with? Which charity? I always replied, “No. I’m planting myself here. I represent only myself.”

At one point, there was no one nearby. I looked up and suddenly saw a wall of people across the street watching me, as if waiting for me to say something.
The sunlight shines on my face. I said loudly, “My name is Stella Jiang. I’m from Taipei, but I’ve always felt rootless. My family ties are thin. I don’t know where home is, or who my family is. I’ve been renting for six years and moved to Zhongshan two years ago. I finally feel I belong somewhere. I want to stay here. So I’m planting myself here. It’s really cold. Want to help me plant myself?”
Chlovis, a friend I met in Zhongshan, was the first to step forward. She picked up a red flower from the bucket and planted it into the pot with me. One by one, others followed. I felt like an incense burner in a temple.
Many young ladies came back to visit the flower pot. They gave me hot drinks, snacks, flowers, hand warmers, and cards. I was deeply moved. I ended up like a hand warmer mogul. The ones I didn’t use that day, I later gave to a homeless woman on Nanjing East Road.

Once all the flowers had been planted, I began pulling them out one by one to hold them again. Suddenly, more and more people started to gather. Some aunties swarmed in, thinking I was giving out flowers for free. At one point, I couldn’t speak to everyone fast enough—so many hands reached out for flowers. Their yearning was so strong, I could only keep giving. In the end, I even gave away flowers that others had gifted me.
After the crowd scattered, some curious passersby still lingered. A Taiwanese woman living abroad chatted with me and, before leaving, repeatedly exclaimed in English, “Oh my god, these are real flowers! I thought they were fake!”
A sweet couple—two women—had been watching from across the street before walking over to talk. One of them, after hearing my story about wanting to plant myself here, said she was feeling lost about her career and was also searching for where to land.

The market vendor came back, smoking again. He said, “You really should explain the difference between installation art and performance art. A bunch of people misunderstood you!”
I said, “I might be both—or neither. Whatever people see in me, that’s what it is. I’m not here to educate anyone. I just want to stir something in people’s lives.”
He exhaled and said, “Alright, second thing, aren’t you freezing to death? But since you’re performing, I can’t offer you a cigarette. Come chat with me after it’s over.” I said okay, but I was too exhausted to go. Maybe another day, if fate allows.
As night fell, a smiling auntie came up and asked how to get to a department store. I pointed the way, and she left.
Special thanks to: Sheng Sheng Space for generously supplying more flowers, Coffee Dumbo for the coffee grounds as fertilizer, and Ru for sponsoring the cool pants.
Photo documentation: Neo Hsu, Chlovis

The first sunflower went to a little boy. His father brought him over and encouraged him to talk to me, but he stayed shy and silent. I asked, “Would you like this flower?” He nodded. I pulled it from the soil and gave it to him. He turned around and gave his father the flower.
When people asked, “Why are you doing this? What does it mean?” I would ask them to take a guess or just share their first impression.
A few replies stayed with me. One girl said, “Energy. What I felt was energy. When you locked eyes with us from across the street and smiled, there was a huge energy here.”
A guy said, “Aren’t us humans just like plants?” I laughed and said, “Yeah, you're right. We all need sunlight, air, and water.”
One woman said, “You look like you’ve got something to say.” Another commented, “Feels like you want to blend in, become part of the landscape here.”
Many people asked, “Aren’t you cold?” At first I said, “No, I’m fine!” But eventually I changed my answer to, “Yes! I’m freezing! But I don’t mind!”

Here I Plant Myself

Funeral for Yesterday’s Self