Past                     Present                 Future

As a child in Beijing, I studied piano, ballet, painting, and calligraphy.
My parents often said I was never still  except when I drew.
In fourth grade, I made a picture book called The Poet Li Bai and Me, and to my surprise, it won first place in a children’s art competition.
That moment didn’t make me feel like an artist; it made me realize that art could be the world I dreamed into being.

When I was fourteen, my family moved from Beijing to Seattle.
Everything changed — the language, the rhythm, even the light.
At first, I only observed; later, I learned to step in.
I joined the scouts, played on my school’s tennis and volleyball team,
and moved between three different art studios, searching for the right mentors and peers.
From the snowy stillness of Mount Rainier to the clamor of Pike Place Market, I carried my camera, capturing new ways of seeing.
Between two cultures, I learned to bend without breaking, to belong without forgetting.
I wasn’t just learning to fit in — I was learning how to create my own direction.

At Forest Ridge, I learned that art could be both reflection and leadership.
In an environment where girls are encouraged to speak, question, and take initiative,
I began to see that visual work can also lead —
it can change how people notice, connect, or think.
Working across charcoal, acrylic, and Procreate,
I realized that tools don’t define creativity — curiosity does.
Digital painting taught me precision and speed,
but school discussions taught me patience and clarity.
Now I try to bring both together:
to create images that are structured yet open, deeply personal yet attuned to the world around them.