Destroying the Four Olds

Three large black and white photographs on a white wall. A triptych. In each stands the same man. Chinese, bearded, of medium height, though perhaps above average weight. His eyes are heavily pouched. His face is neutral.

In the first photo, he holds a clay vase. He holds it at an angle, away from his body, with just his fingertips. Simultaneously delicate and precarious. 

In the second, he has let it go. It floats in mid air, at his knees, suspended. His hands, open, fingers splayed, say 'So?'. His face betrays nothing.

In the third, the pot lies shattered at his feet. His hands remain open, relaxed. One palm upwards, lit white by the sky. The second, in dark shadow, faces the ground. On his face, a hint of a smile. 

And in tiny letters beside the triptych:

Ai WeiWei

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn.