I immigrated to America in 1982, and some forty years has passed since building a new life and home here. The future facing me in 1982 brushed by me and has already become a distant past.
The time provided me flesh and blood to my sticks and bones life and is now projected entirely and perfectly in my work.
My work was created amidst cycles of hardship and despair but the occasional warm rays of the sun and the rejuvenating wind often soothed and blew on my soul, allowing me to live and so I continue to live.
One day putting down the work that sustained our lives and turning a painful corner of life’s trials, I discovered the existence of green hills, blinding sunlight and a silver river in the distance.
A group of birds in trees that seemed to be enjoying the breeze and the countless leaves scattering and scattered on the fields.
Being a part of the scene on that field, I realized and rediscovered the abundant beauty that was always there.
My premature intent, explanation aside, I don’t want to disrupt all the beauty
that has always been. If there is one intent that is possible to me, it is to enhance and expose all that is beautiful as they exist. Art is not created by me. Through my life, borrowing my hand, beauty in life and nature is revealed to its fullest. Revealing the essence is like seeing the wind by watching the swaying
trees and translating that abstract, invisible concept for the seeing eye to be convinced of its existence.
Now I understand that I am separated, freed from my artwork. In order to realize the greatest freedom to be myself, I hope to disregard art criticisms, prejudices that people express. I further hope to venture out of the studio more often to engage in active dialogue with people.