The first memory that I can remember about anything remotely related to art was when I had asked my mom to draw a picture of me. Amazed by the results, I had asked her to teach me how to draw. A little background of my mom, she grew up in a traditional Asian household that restricted her from pursuing art but a stable career, like nursing. Although she was unable to pursue her passion, the moment she became a mother; she  thrived on the idea of giving every opportunity to me and my three sisters. 

     Because of this fond memory and her reasoning, I have grown up creating, building, and drawing. During the times that I "should have been bored",my sisters and I were immediately given a Costco cookie box full of markers, color pencils, and colored pens and were told to busy ourselves. Being bored was not in my parents' vocabulary that's for sure.

     Because of this memory, I was intrigued by art and continued on to take classes at my local school and community colleges. In those classes, I worked with Japanese water color with the ink block, cartooning, and basic fundamentals. I started picking up more of my arts education at my high school, where I was able to experiment with other medias; graphite, chalk, charcoal, color pencil, water color, and oil pastels. 

      I often grabbed inspiration from my travels around the states and most recently London, England. In high school, I 

      However, art has never been a stable thing in life for me, but more of an outlet for me to channel my emotions of the time it was or of the moment. Almost reminiscent and sometimes traumatic, and because art is a known coping mechanism and because of my experiences I love to share this art with you to see how you interpret.

​