Lines travel elegantly on a gessoed, stretched canvas, protruding infinitely from surface into space, or from space onto surface. They stretch out freely, gently, sometimes even a little shaky, along with my soul. Everything about me is repressented in these lines, as well as in the colors they form. Everything avout me is condensed into lines, and also comdensed into colors.

Whenever I paint the same color on many different convases, the color always looks different following the change of time, place, and the state of mind when it is observed. No matter what kind of line I paint, they will also transform along with the change of time and place.

Whenever I re-examine the works I painted a year or two ago, I can always re-experience the feeling I had when I was creating them. Although I have maintained the same style and subject matter through the years of my art-making career, very often I still find myself amazed by the slight trace of change revealed between each work. Each work to me is unique on its own right, and each painting grows with me along with elapse of time in my life; no matter how slow the transformation takes place, or how slight the difference between works is.

I am hopinfg to be able to discover the meaning of my existence by painting, therefore lines and colors become the means that help me to express my feeling towards everything, such as the things I can see in my eyes, feel with my senses, people I love and people I hate, feeling of sorrow or happiness, or sensing my own in distinctiveness....etc.