The form of the sunglasses emerged when a wooden whale was about to swallow a coffee ring.

The whale was born in Taipei, while I was watching the sunset by the ocean.

Its body emerged through an unintended frottage: a chance encounter between a pencil, a sheet of paper and an aged wooden table.

Later, the whale encountered a coffee ring. He married two substances — coffee and wood.
Looking for evidence? Let us perform a Rorschach test.

What do we see? To perceive the whale, one has to look and imagine simultaneously. But how can we do both at once? Tristan Tzara suggested closing one eye to look inside while keeping the other open to see what surrounds us. The resulting mixture is a vision: a space in-between, where randomness and logic are no longer opposites, and where the accidental and the designed are united.

Wooden Whale knows this from the woodworms. They are exceptionally skilled abstract artists. They have also mastered one of the most fundamental principles of existence: what is consumed eventually returns to the world. In this sense, their work is both destructive and regenerative. They transform wood while participating in its eventual return to matter.

Perhaps this is also their answer to one of the uncomfortable questions of contemporary life: what do we do with what we consume? The woodworm doesn’t produce waste. It transforms matter.