In the work of **Wang Yi-Chen (Nana)**, time moves slowly and transparently, as if advancing at the speed of a faint glow. Centering her practice on “the process of searching for traces,” she transforms subtle shifts in memory, environment, and emotion into layered fields of color that can be quietly observed, exploring the hard-to-articulate boundary between existence and absence. *Adagio Narrative of March – Sanctuary of Stillness* begins with changes in everyday landscapes: felled trees, birds that have lost their habitats, and homes intruded upon by light. From these easily overlooked events, the artist seeks out severed memories and traces, rendering scenes that appear tranquil yet conceal underlying unrest through watercolor, colored pencil, graphite, and oil paint. The thin, translucent layers of color seep and spread like breathing, creating a sense of flow where nature and inner states overlap. Within these works, “rest” does not imply stillness, but rather a condition suspended between looking and thinking. Softness and sharpness, blur and clarity, continuously pull against one another—much like the artist’s notion of an “adagio narrative,” which speaks in a measured tempo of emotions and wounds diluted by time. Through acts of naming, recording, and re-presentation, Wang Yi-Chen transforms seemingly faint traces into visible forms of existence, while reminding viewers that comfort and disorder, rest and agitation, often reside within the same breath. In this softly spoken narrative, Wang Yi-Chen invites viewers to move slowly through the light and shadow of the paintings, like walking along a riverbank, gradually entering a “sanctuary of stillness” that lies between reality and memory—a slow moment belonging to March, where time no longer presses forward and the sounds of the world grow gentle enough to be heard.