Li Xuelian

TIFA 2025 Interview with Li Xuelian
1st Place winner in Portfolio, Non-Professional, “The Shadow Side of Light”

Can you introduce yourself and share a bit about your background in photography?

My name is Li Xuelian, and my social media handle is Sheryl 沐曦. I was born in Chengdu, Sichuan, China, and currently reside in Aix-en-Provence in southern France. As a wife and mother, I am also an independent female creator, constantly seeking balance between life and creative work.

My lens focuses on the stories of those living away from their homeland, attempting to capture the souls adrift beyond familiar grounds—those fleeting moments of seeking belonging in foreign environments. At the same time, I am drawn to the growth and transformation of women, aiming to use imagery to showcase their strength and resilience at different stages of life. My work documents how women explore their identities under the multifaceted lenses of society and culture, growing amid challenges and adversities while finding their own voice and space.

Just like the meaning of my social media name, 沐曦, which in Chinese signifies “bathing in the first rays of the morning sun,” I hope that viewers of my work can feel the warmth of sunlight. They may also sense the lingering echoes of memories from a life of drifting and the imprints of cultural fusion. I aspire for my images to be more than frozen moments—rather, an exploration of identity, emotion, and life’s journey, with each photograph carrying a thought-provoking story and evoking deep resonance.

How did photography become the space where your different identities could meet and speak to one another?

For me personally, photography is a way to respond to life’s uncertainties. After moving to France and stepping away from my previous identity as an engineer, I spent a long time grappling with the question: “Who am I?” Am I a partner? A mother? Or simply a person drifting in a foreign land?

When I first arrived in France, the language barrier made me feel isolated from the world for quite some time. Yet whenever I picked up my phone or camera to observe and capture moments on the streets, I found a way to communicate—both with my surroundings and with my own inner self. Navigating through the currents of different identities, like a fish returning to the sea, photography has become a medium that harmonizes my fluid existence—embodying beauty, rhythm, subtlety… and merging the fragments of my journey into a cohesive whole.

Your memories of first encountering the ocean are vivid and physical. How does personal memory guide the atmosphere and rhythm of your photographs?

When I was a child, I saw a picture book of a little girl walking along the seashore with a bucket, collecting seashells and leaving a trail of footprints behind. That image left a deep impression on my mind. (Growing up surrounded by mountains, I had no chance to encounter the sea.) My love and longing for the ocean became a seed planted in my heart.

At eighteen, accompanied by my mother, I saw the sea for the first time. Without even changing into a swimsuit, I rushed into the waves wearing a dress. Now, living in a small town in southern France, the nearest beach is just a thirty-minute drive away—a gentle echo of fate’s tides, it seems.

In my story, I use the fish as a metaphor for myself, and the sea corresponds to three different stages of my life. The sea of the first stage resembles how I felt when I first arrived in France—unfamiliar with the environment and overwhelmed by a sense of vast unreality. That sea was unknown, romantic, almost magical. Then, I discovered I was pregnant. The arrival of new life felt like a reboot of my existence; it even filled a gap in my memory of infancy. Yet, I also had to face various challenges in life. At that time, my sea shimmered with beauty, but its surging waves were also turbulent and full of trials. Gradually, I found my own way of expression through imagery and learned how to converse with my surroundings. Now, perhaps the fish has adapted to the rhythm of the sea, or perhaps the fish has become part of the sea—or maybe the fish is the sea. Now, under the moonlight, the sea appears calm and still, yet beneath the surface, there flows a powerful, hidden current.

What does winning at the Tokyo International Foto Awards mean to you personally and professionally?

Winning this award is a milestone for my photography career. It encourages and supports my dream of pursuing photography—a tender, loving affirmation that tells me: “You’re doing wonderfully; keep chasing your ocean, your dream.”

There is a sense of becoming rather than arriving in this project. Do you see this work as documentation of a journey, or as the journey itself?

When I saw this question, something stirred inside me—it felt like being gently embraced. This connects deeply to what I’m currently working on: a project that, in a sense, has no definitive end. I’ve been collecting responses to the question “Who is she?” in two places—my current home in France and my hometown of Chengdu, China.

The responses are gathered through an exhibition format: I printed a photo of my child’s eyes paired with an image of my mother’s back beneath a cherry blossom tree. The visual logic invites the viewer to follow my child’s gaze toward my mother, who herself looks out into the vast cherry blossom grove. Through this, I pose a question to everyone who encounters the images: “If you are a woman, who are you? And how would you describe the important ‘she’ in your life—using adjectives or nouns?”

The collection in France has concluded, while the one in my hometown is still ongoing. I look forward to returning home and reading all the responses. To me, the stories of those living away from home only feel complete when they eventually return to where they began.

This work may appear to document a journey through life, but in truth, it is the journey itself—a continuous exploration of the self.