My work returns to questions of endurance: how presence persists through displacement, erasure, and temporal distance, and what kind of belonging is possible when home does not hold still. Living between geographies, cultures, and languages, I understand identity as layered and continually re-formed. Displacement and return shape how I move through abstraction—as a way to hold what cannot be fully translated into a single stable narrative, through partial visibility, restraint, and perceptual delay.

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This attention is entangled with inherited histories. Chinese-Indonesian experiences of erasure and reinvention taught me that disappearance is often lived as silence, self-editing, and gaps rather than as a single event. I think about what remains after rupture—what persists when language breaks and records fracture. For me, fragility is not weakness but a structure of endurance: an insistence that attentive labor can hold what history fractures.

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Working across drawing, painting, installation, and sculpture, I build surfaces from time-bearing residues—eggshell, cooking carbon, ash from joss paper burnings, and soil from the places I live—materials gathered through daily and ceremonial cycles. I treat them less as symbols than as evidence: matter already transformed by use, devotion, and time. In recent works, I also transfer family photographs onto paper—documents that index time—then interrupt and re-form them through heat drawings and measured lines. I’m drawn to the friction between these two kinds of time: what the body carries and what the archive claims to prove.

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The work is activated by proximity and duration. Reflection and shadow, seams and shifts in distance delay certainty, so meaning arrives through slow attention and care in looking. From afar the works read as quiet fields; up close they break into residue, pressure marks, and partial images that flicker between recognition and loss.