1. Beauty in Words

    An ongoing personal project that turns steel tipped words said to me in the past into aesthetically pleasing (or so I hope) lettering pieces. It gives a sense of irony to the reader: it is both nice, but the words hurt. Should they like it? Or should they be concerned.


  2. I started a personal art project that merges two goals I wish to accomplish: improving on my novice hand lettering and growing thicker skin or simply coming to terms with my past.

    For most of my life, I’ve been whipped with words that left scars and soothed by others; these words are embedded into my skin. This project will force me to think back to those who relentlessly hurt me at my lowest and think back to people who helped, but I never showed enough gratitude for. Others are observations from friends.

    Emotional and mental abuse is fucking disgusting.

    By turning linkages of words into something (hopefully) pleasant on the eyes, I hope to capture some kind of irony. Ugly words. Clean and “pretty” placement and format of the words that haunt me to this day.


  3. Escapism.


  4. This is my favorite Polaroid picture I’ve taken so far; it’s of my sister and her boyfriend during the summer when they took me out of the home so I’ll stop being a depressed hermit, but I digress.

    He hadn’t slept for close to two days because of work, so he dozed off as soon as it started to rain. I ran and focused in on the two of them - they thought I went to get pictures of the water - and it ended up being an intimate moment of the two of them I’ll never forget. The background is slightly off focus, giving the two of them the spotlight in front of my camera. It was exhilarating to see as soon as the image developed.

    I haven’t had the opportunity to purchase more film, but I hope to go out and take more soon. I get an adrenaline rush feeling the pressure of taking the best shot on the first try since reckless shutter hungry fingers never do any good for film.

    Then again, shutter hungry was what got me this picture. Ironic.


  5. I spent the past three months mentoring a man from Colombia about everything New York City (or inherently American) as well as whatever I’m aware of in regards to my ethnic background: Chinese. Trust me, it’s not much other than talking about my mom and what she did to get to and by in the city.

    I was saddened to find out he would not be in Baruch next semester; he will be in basic training for the National Guard and will be gone for 4.5 months starting late January/early February. I had wanted him to attend my graduation, but that would be selfish of me and a hindrance to him and his plan. I can only wish him the best and to thank him endlessly for the lessons, point of views, and advice he has offered.

    Perhaps he was my mentor instead.