I paint flowers because they embody the best of life: color, abundance, fragility, renewal, and the courage to bloom without apology. They are not decorative subjects to me, but a philosophy. I do not paint them because life is always beautiful; I paint them because beauty is worth seeking, protecting, and choosing.
I grew up close to Beijing’s imperial gardens and within the visual language of traditional Chinese art. Saturated reds, blues, greens, and yellows—the commanding colors of dynastic China—formed my earliest palette. So did flashes of gold and silver against dark hardwood, weathered stone, lacquered doors, and ancient architecture. In my own work, these strong colors sometimes soften into pastels, as memory and reflection alter the intensity of what was once seen.
After decades in the concrete world of finance and business, I found myself longing for the paradise of a garden. Flowers became my return to that inner landscape—my happy place and my way of exhibiting what life can be at its most vivid and generous. I paint largely florals, alongside abstract landscapes shaped by atmosphere, memory, and imagined places.
I am also a writer of novels, essays, and reflections on art, philosophy, family, culture, and the experience of living between worlds. Painting and writing are two expressions of the same instinct: to gather what life gives us and transform it into color, form, and story.
