Through Shifting Skies

Between Taiwan and the United States, between languages and silences, I drifted through a landscape of loneliness during the pandemic. In that quiet turbulence, I found not only sorrow but also the fragile beginnings of belonging and self-understanding.

My paintings unfold in muted colors—grays, blues, gentle pinks—where smoke blurs reality and memory, and blank spaces hold the words that cannot be spoken. A pink moon, a shimmer of raindrops, or a fading plant extends a thread of warmth through the coldness, suggesting that even in solitude, quiet hope persists. Through ceramics, I turn ephemeral objects into lasting witnesses: a pillow hardened into fragile clay, pearls scattered like unspoken tears, tissue balls preserving forgotten sorrows, suitcases and passports rendered unusable yet carrying the emotional weight of migration. These forms reflect the paradox of vulnerability and resilience, movement and stillness.

In these silent spaces, loss lingers, but so too does the possibility of healing. My work invites viewers to find their own reflections in these traces—to recognize that loneliness is not only an absence, but also a doorway through which tenderness, memory, and transformation quietly pass.