My painting practice begins with an exploration of growth. For me, the artist is not the sole creator of the work, but more like a medium through which painting is allowed to become itself. My works often do not begin with a fixed image or theme. Instead, they slowly take shape through repeated traces, covering, erasure, touch, and looking, formed through time, material, the body, memory, and forces that cannot be fully named.

​

I grew up in China, and later lived in Vancouver, New York, and London. Constantly moving, adapting to new environments and relationships, made me aware from an early age that the stability of home, relationships, and identity is not always permanent. Many places I once thought I could stay in eventually became places I had to leave. Drifting has therefore become not only a condition of my life, but also a way of understanding painting.

​

I often think of the artist as a river. Everything we see, hear, experience, and lose enters the water like invisible minerals. The artwork is what grows from being irrigated by this river, like plants, flowers, and trees. It is never simply an expression of a fixed subject, but a living process of flow, sedimentation, and transformation.

​

I have gradually accepted my drifting, and also accepted the fate of continuing to grow within constant change. Painting has become a place where I rebuild strength. It does not repair loss, but allows loss, memory, identity, and time to meet again on the surface. For me, painting is a fearless act of becoming: a place where the unknown is not avoided, but entered, stayed with, and eventually allowed to grow into its own form.