Savage One, The One Who Runs Barefoot

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The genesis of my recent work was a few old photographs sent by my estranged father. A particular photo sparked a flood of questions and uncertainties. A little girl of four, standing with my parents — was this child really me? The memory of that time in my life is hazy, like a dream, with this photograph serving as the sole tangible evidence of my past in China.

In another photo, my mother had lost all of her hair due to breast cancer treatment, and with a left arm weakened due to a mastectomy, couldn't lift heavy objects anymore. She relied on my help to carry grocery bags after shopping. These experiences, deeply personal and transformative, have shaped my understanding of strength, sacrifice, and the complexities of life, which I explore within my practice.

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