When I was a little kid, I would go up to my grandfathers studio in his attic and watch him smoke his pipe and work on his paintings. The quietness of it all.

I’ve always practiced art, but I was never supposed to be an artist. My paintings are a reflection of overcoming personal adversity, situated in between two cultures neither of which I belonged to. I learned English and American values through American cartoons and pop culture. Growing up in a conservative Taiwanese household, I was constantly reminded that art was a hobby and that I would never grow up to be an artist.

Layered through a vivid palette, the paintings juxtapose landscapes, art historical references and appropriated pop imagery. They are always bold and loud, a reflection of a rebellious youth and past indiscretions. They are bright and exuberant like the cartoons I watched growing up situated in the backgrounds of my life. They are of the people that travel in and out of my life. They are of my past grievances and traumas, that I have still not yet escaped.