A Breath of Life
Embedded Files
Jumping Sun
Jumping Sun
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
I grew up surrounded by stories. My family shared memories constantly — some joyful, some painful — and those stories shaped how I see the world. I didn’t always know I would become an artist, but I always knew I was paying attention. I was observing textures, colors, gestures, silences. Looking back, I realize that those early experiences became the foundation of my work. I create from memory, but not in a nostalgic way. I’m interested in how memory changes, how it fragments, and how it can be rebuilt through art.
Look up Me
Look up Me
Look up Me
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Identity isn’t something fixed for me. It’s layered and constantly shifting. I’ve experienced cultural hybridity in different ways, and that feeling of being between worlds shows up in my work. I don’t try to give clear answers about who I am or where I belong. Instead, I ask questions. I use materials, symbols, and images that reflect that in-between space. Art gives me a language to talk about belonging without having to define it too rigidly.
Warm to me
Warm to me
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
My process is very intuitive, but it also involves research. Sometimes I start with archival material — old photographs, documents, or conversations with people. I collect fragments. I’m drawn to pieces of history that feel incomplete. From there, I begin experimenting in the studio. I layer materials, mix textures, and allow accidents to happen. I love the physicality of working with my hands. For me, texture carries emotion. When someone stands in front of my work, I want them to feel something before they even try to understand it intellectually.
Galancients
Galancients
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
24 x 36 in by 3 panels each
The social dimension of art. I don’t necessarily label my work as activist, but I’m very aware of the social and political contexts around me. Issues like migration, displacement, and marginalization aren’t abstract concepts — they are lived realities for many people, including those close to me. I don’t shout these themes. I don’t create direct slogans. Instead, I build spaces where viewers can slow down and reflect. Sometimes subtlety is more powerful than something overtly confrontational.
Sunny Attum
Sunny Attum
Acrilic
On wood
40 x 60 in
As a woman in the art world, I’ve had my share of challenges. There are still inequalities in representation and opportunities. I’ve had moments where I felt underestimated or overlooked. But those experiences have also strengthened me. They’ve pushed me to be more confident in my voice. I often think about the women in my family — their resilience, their quiet strength — and that energy feeds into my work. I want to honor those stories, especially the ones that were never fully told.
The Cave
The Cave
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
I appreciate the visibility that digital platforms provide. They allow artists to connect across borders, to share ideas instantly. But I also worry about how quickly everything moves. My work requires time. It asks viewers to slow down, to stand still, to notice details. I still believe deeply in physical encounters with art — in the experience of being in the same space as a piece and feeling its presence.
Memory kept coming up throughout the interview. It’s really at the core of everything I do. I think of memory as something fragile but also incredibly resilient. Even when it’s fragmented, it survives. In my studio, I often feel like I’m assembling a puzzle without having the final image as a guide. I gather pieces and trust the process. Sometimes I don’t fully understand what I’m making until later. That uncertainty is important. It keeps the work alive.
Bronze Wooded
Bronze Wooded
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Collaboration is another big part of my practice. I don’t like the idea of the isolated artist-genius. I’ve worked with writers, musicians, and community members, and those collaborations have expanded my perspective. When you invite others into your process, the work becomes richer. It becomes less about “me” and more about shared experience. I see that as an ethical choice as well — recognizing that stories and knowledge are collective.
Forest Fog
Forest Fog
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Collaboration is another big part of my practice. I don’t like the idea of the isolated artist-genius. I’ve worked with writers, musicians, and community members, and those collaborations have expanded my perspective. When you invite others into your process, the work becomes richer. It becomes less about “me” and more about shared experience. I see that as an ethical choice as well — recognizing that stories and knowledge are collective.
Happy to see you
Happy to see you
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
When asked what advice I would give to emerging artists, I said: be patient. Growth doesn’t happen overnight. There’s a lot of invisible labor behind every exhibition or finished piece. Read, observe, build community. Don’t isolate yourself. And don’t be afraid of vulnerability. Some of my strongest works came from moments when I allowed myself to be open and uncertain.
Falling Wave
Falling Wave
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Looking ahead, I want to keep exploring themes of memory, migration, and belonging, but I also want to push myself into new formats. I’m interested in larger installations and more interactive experiences. I want the audience to feel like participants rather than passive viewers. Art, for me, is about dialogue. It’s about creating a space where different perspectives can meet.
Marvelous
Marvelous
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Creativity, for me, is a form of listening. It begins in silence, in paying attention to emotions that don’t yet have words. It’s less about talent and more about courage — the courage to face uncertainty without knowing the outcome. When I create, I let go of perfection and allow vulnerability to guide me. In that space of openness, ideas appear naturally, shaped by instinct, honesty, and trust.
Gold River
Gold River
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
36 x 36 in
I see creativity as transformation. Ordinary materials or experiences can shift into something meaningful through care and intention. When I create, I reshape emotions, memories, and even pain into new forms. It’s not about escaping reality but reimagining it. Creativity shows me that nothing is fixed — everything can evolve. That process feels hopeful because it reminds me that change is always possible in both art and life.
Sea Mining
Sea Mining
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
24 x 36 in
Play is essential to my creativity. Even serious work needs experimentation and freedom. I like combining unexpected materials and allowing accidents to guide me. Mistakes often lead to surprising discoveries. Creativity thrives in curiosity — in asking “what if?” and following that question without fear. Protecting that sense of wonder keeps my work alive and prevents it from becoming rigid or predictable.
Joy
Joy
Acrylic / mix materials
On Canvas
31.1 x 47.1 in
Creativity helps me understand what it means to be human. It connects me to others beyond language. When someone experiences my work, their interpretation becomes part of the creative act. I believe creativity is relational — it builds bridges between different emotions and perspectives. To stay creative is to remain open, empathetic, and willing to imagine new possibilities, even in uncertain times.
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