Narrative series

Mixed Media Drawing. Text: One click and a window opened, Exploiting reality for our entertainment. What have we become? When in the midst of danger, We do not flee, but rather, film and record. What is the meaning of life now? When we can scroll through death with a button. A few clicks, fair is foul and foul is fair at the tips of our fingers. Bubble-verse form on the surface of the sea of information. Communication is about speed, not about thoughts. Random disorderly firing of neurons; manic deluding seizure. Soft you now! Tearless child from the rubbles. Some still ask why you should bear such outrageous fortune. Some see the blank stare as their reflection, As they grunt and sweat through daily rescues. While others ponder the sins of their failed actions, Our powerlessness in evolution

Mixed media Drawing and Prints. Text: If the predicted world is found, the name must be approved by the International Astronomical Union. Planets are traditionally named for mythological Roman Gods.

Mixed Media Drawing and Collage. Text: After my 2 year old put on my slippers and ran around like a little monster, I put them back on and felt the size of his tiny feet. An image suddenly crossed my mind. I remembered finding my mother’s slippers after she passed away. They took her form. I am not religious and don’t understand Physics that well. But as persistent as we are to believe in the illusion of Past, Present, and Future, I think, rather, we leave an impression in Time that is eternal. She never left me. And I will always be there for my son.

Digital Print. Text: In the beginning, we notice the light. The day is longer, and we as creatures that covet it feel more time is granted even though the clock still strikes at midnight. It is an awkward season. Young kids are dying to get their shorts and skirts on, while the semi-overly-self-conscious-too-careful-and-responsible types are still wearing their winter coats. Numbers doesn’t mean anything, Celsius or Fahrenheit. The surprise is always in how you feel. How nice it will be to write poetry about the beautiful air after winter thaws, when in reality it just smells bad. The river will rise and flood the rich man’s basement! Now, that’s poetic justice. You cannot possess beauty without paying a due. Trust me, I live in a magnificent old house with no insulation! Everything happens for a reason, and my cats sense it. They want to let me know by sitting on my head bright and early. Oh! How they love to grind their jaws when bees hit the windows. Tis’ the season of so much hope to kill. I was too young to recall when I was living in Hong Kong. I am most aware after those long cold Canadian winters. For an artist, the grass is not always green, and for a Canadian, it depends on how low the sky drops. My mother stopped working since the move, but she didn’t age a bit after her early retirement and earned the title “oldest bipedal icebreaker who braves the snow to walk the mall” from the teen choice awards. The rest of the family goes about their way during the day, but come back in the evening to our home where our mother waits. We thought how nice it would be that someone else could be there waiting for her to come back from the mall too. And since my brother and I were at the age of reason, we went to get our first cat. Besides the summer sand bath and his ambitious pedicure business, he brought the family so much laughter and joy that we lavished him with love and turned him into Elvis. When the snow melts, the river runs with him. The grass wasn’t always green and so my mother grew cancer. As if he knew what that meant, he slept beside her everyday. So when she was gone, he decided to grow cancer as well. Tragedy doesn’t come in single wave. It is always there, folding and unfolding. I wasn’t there. Half way around the world the news came electric. I cried and soaked the papers with tears. I held them tight in my hand before throwing them into the Tiber. I imagined that my tears would be one with the water and reach him somehow, someday. Everything happens for a reason and the river runs with him.

Mixed media drawing

Mixed Media Drawing. Text: It is a quiet moment in our day, an orderly activity we call “Lunch”. He sat in his blue chair and she sat in her red. He seems to be exhausted after running away with her doll’s arm, multiple times. She is too, after her crying, complaining about all his wrong doings, and telling me secrets of potential ones to come. They smile and are excited about making choices for their sandwiches. Such simple pleasures we carry to our adulthood when we splurge in a fancy restaurant. I no longer need to worry about them flicking food at each other, cause they know better. I turn around for my take-the-edge-off drink and proceed to do some cleaning. Then a click: one is closing the door as the other stuffs the cat in the microwave. One second away from certain death. I intercede. One smack on the behind, then two. They cry hysterically. I ask them when they are going to stop. Their answer is suppressed between fits and sobs.

Mixed media Prints and Drawing. Text: We experience our life under the gravity of the sun. It takes 8 minutes for the sunlight to reach Earth. It takes a lifetime to get there. In those 8 minutes, we could have started all over again, or ended what we shouldn’t be doing. In those 8 minutes, on the other side where light does not reach, someone could have slip and fall. In those 8 minutes, on the brighter side, we continue to laugh and eat, or be more Californian. At 81/2, a phone call could bring our mind to a place where our body cannot. The last 8 minutes happened. The light cuts through the cosmic memories in a dance. It lets you grow, but kills you slow. In a number game, the light can reduce into a string that connects us all. This string we feel cannot be detected. This light illuminates a form between 2 mirrors, endlessly reflecting each other. The images immerge into darkness, which we called them the forgetfulness and the unknown. This form is 8 minutes