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A Snake Reimagined
Twelve years ago, my Zodiac Snake was inspired by traditional mianhua (flour dough folk art).
It is a snake formed in an intentionally non-natural, almost decorative way, coiling into itself.
Its body is decorated with a traditional wedding paper-cut motif,
“She Pan Tu” (蛇盤兔) — the snake coiling around the rabbit.
There is an old folk saying: “Stick up She Pan Tu, and you will plant a money tree.”
It was a playful and fascinating piece of folk imagination that stayed with me ever since.
But this time, I wanted the snake to become something entirely different.
Not festive.
Not folk-comic.
Something quieter.
More elegant.
Almost spirit-like.
And yet, when the first finished snake appeared, the very first reaction was exactly the same as every zodiac creature before it:
“So cute!”
Some things cannot escape their destiny.
After the Dragon
I had just emerged from the exhausting complexity of Wuxiang Dragon.
Then suddenly—
a snake.
A form so minimal it almost felt empty.
No horns.
No claws.
No elaborate construction.
Just a single flowing line.
It seemed to require only the smallest spark of inspiration.
When my friend Peacock first saw the black snake prototype, she laughed:
“It’s so short and tiny — like a little loach!”
And she was right.
Short.
Tiny.
Strangely adorable.
Even now, I do not fully understand how long certain shapes stay hidden in my mind before appearing.
But once I draw them, they immediately feel final.
I simply know:
this is the one.
Why should a snake not be short?
Why should it not be a little strange?
A Snake Carrying the Sun
As I worked on the new design, I began noticing snakes everywhere.
In religious imagery.
In myths.
In spiritual symbols.
They quietly appeared in documentaries, films, paintings, and books around me.
Then one day, the image arrived all at once.
I sketched the pattern directly onto my iPad:
A snake carrying the sun wheel,
holding the spirit of heaven and earth.
Light flowing across its belly,
awakening the life of all things.
The snake no longer felt like a zodiac animal alone.
It began to feel ancient.
Silent.
Watching.
— one of the “Two Wonders of Lushan” praised by Su Shi（苏轼）.
The Difficulty of Simplicity
The making process appeared deceptively simple.
But simplicity is often less forgiving than complexity.
A dragon can hide mistakes.
A snake cannot.
Making Rui Xiang Snake
- Sewing the long curved body by hand
- Filling cotton slowly from head to tail in one continuous movement
- Adjusting the stuffing carefully with an awl from the outside
- Reshaping the neck little by little to achieve an elegant lifted posture
- Turning the head slightly sideways to create a calm forward gaze
- Curling the tail into a soft spiral for balance and movement
The filling process demanded the most patience.
The cotton had to begin at the head and move downward section by section until the body became evenly full.
Once the filling moved forward, there was no going back to reshape earlier sections.
Everything had to happen in one continuous flow.
Grace had to be sculpted slowly—
through squeezing, adjusting, reshaping.
Almost like setting bones into alignment.
A good figure rarely happens naturally.
Even for a snake.
The Snake Parade
There is a photograph of many snakes from twelve years ago lined up together.
The earlier snake was inspired by folk flour sculptures—thick, knotted, coiling like twisted rope.
I still love its rawness.
But it could never truly stand in formation.
It resisted order.
It collapsed into itself.
And over the years, I realized something:
all twelve zodiac creatures would eventually need to stand together.
Not separately—
but as a complete procession.
A small handmade parade.
The old snake could not do that.
This new snake could.
It lifts its neck calmly, curls its tail neatly beneath itself, and holds its posture with quiet confidence.
Only then could it finally take its place among the others.
And only then could I photograph the full zodiac gathering the way I had imagined for years—
like a ceremonial inspection line,
waiting proudly for the Year of the Snake to arrive.
In December 2024, during Christmas, I dressed Ruixiang Snake with reindeer antlers and a scarf.
A Seal for the New Year
At the very end, I carved a large snake-year seal.
One final mark.
A wish for auspiciousness in the Year of the Snake.
May the radiance of the sun wheel illuminate the road ahead.
Happy New Year.
Some creatures demand complexity.
Others demand restraint.
The snake asked for elegance—and a little mystery.
—— over ——