My current artwork explores dreamscapes and imaginary lands that retain the structural integrity of the ordinary world but transcend the constraints of reality through the arrangement of subjects and background, of composition and space. By morphing seemingly mundane situations and objects into their bizarre and outlandish counterparts, I take ownership in creating the world around me, just like how lucid dreamers control their dreams and fabricate the landscape around them.

Because I often work spontaneously without prior planning, sketching, or reference photos, much of my artwork is developed on the spot—similar to an jazz improvisation performance. Although I do not know what my final product will look like when I use this method, I revel in this very freedom, in the unconstrained fields of my mind and the different variations of creativity it can manifest. When I work, I imagine myself as the director of a movie who has the ability to insert or remove as many actors and props with the snap of my fingers—or more specifically—the sweep of my paintbrush. I seek for the audience to live vicariously in my work, to have fun, to suspend their disbelief, to bask in the bizarreness of my little universes without tugging away to reality.

My art is often inspired by architecture: the dynamicity and strength of orthogonal lines that set the pacing of an image and carry our attention across the page. I’m also inspired by the impact of humans in their imaginary worlds—whether these humans are the subject or the afterthought, whether they play an active role in shaping the world around them or act as a backdrop in a landscape.

A separate category of my artwork is composed of snapshots of meaningful places, objects, and people that have emotional significance to me. I capture these moments in memory so that I can keep them with me forever, even if many years have passed, and I know that I will continue to build in this repertoire as I trek forward in life.


Overall, my artwork explores a range of emotions; some are driven by a whimsical sense of humor, while others explore darker topics revolving around societal expectations and roles of women, addressing issues like objectification, clothing, body images. Whichever case it may be, I try not to convey my themes explicitly. Instead, I use symbolism—ranging from conch shells to heels to a red string—to imply my messages and ideas. This is because I do not want my audience to understand my content right away; I want them to think, to contemplate the reasoning of my composition, my colors, my style, and come to their own conclusions.


Only then, can we grow.