I don’t know about anything else, but my art is my perfect imperfection.
Dare I say it is a testament to my growth as an artist and a human being.

I didn’t even come from an art background. I was (and still am) an unknown existence in the art world, but I’m stubborn enough to stay and continue shaping my own world in it. To me, being able to do art is like giving myself a second chance, letting myself to dream as high as I can, even if it reaches impossible heights.

My art is an integral part of who I am. It is my voice when words fail, my solace in times of turmoil; my imperfection that I’ve come to embrace after tons of rights and mistakes. Each stroke, each color, each component reflects not just a piece of my imagination, but also my emotional journey and evolving perspective.

Today’s me, is the reassembled form of my shattered self.
The proof of my hard-earned courage that I get while doing all this.

I share my art in the hope that they could resonate with those who are also fighting their own battles, offering fortitude to persevere and remain steadfast in their pursuit of what truly matters to them. Just as the process of creating art has given me easement in piecing myself back together, I aspire for my art to provide some sort of comfort to everyone who encounters it.