Lines before language.
Drawings that wander on paper.
This is where it all began.
Before the cameras, the clients, and the creative direction—there was just a pencil, a piece of paper, and an obsession with how stories move.
As a kid, I drew comic panels while dissecting news graphics and movie title sequences. That dual pull—imagination and structure—still fuels my work today.
Trained as a painter. Transformed by technology. But the instinct to draw? It never left.
These are sketches from then and now—unpolished, unfiltered, and full of where it started.
Echo of a Self
This self-portrait was created as part of a larger series exploring identity, displacement, and the internal contradictions of coming of age across cultures. It reflects my transition from painter to multidisciplinary artist, from Asia to Europe, and from tradition to experimentation.
Painted in oil with fluorescent detailing, the work changes when seen under forensic UV light—a metaphor for the layers we reveal only in certain light. The video projection in the speech bubble (now lost) once contained clips from a time of learning and becoming in the UK.
Though most of this series was lost during international moves, I recently recovered these two photographs and restored them digitally. In some ways, this recovery became part of the artwork itself.
Grandmother Portrait
A Quiet Kindness
This portrait began as a commission but became something more personal.
I didn’t know my grandmother well—we only saw each other on special occasions, and we rarely had conversations beyond the basics. Still, I remember her home cooking. Her kindness. The way she moved through a room. Painting her was a soul-searching process. It wasn’t about likeness. It was about time—how it softens, blurs, and then quietly returns.
Years later, I found a faded photo of the original painting. I restored it using AI—not to perfect it, but to preserve what still lingers. She’s no longer here. But the painting remains. A quiet kind of permanence. A way of saying: I remember you.