I’m still on a long, personal journey to uncover the voice that feels my own. All these years of wandering weren’t wasted; they were preparation. This journey must pass through intense work and exploration; it can’t happen only in the mind, for memory is fragile. I have to create, discard, and create again; until what remains feels true.
Tag: work
work
I’ve come to see that deep, focused work gives my life its meaning. To exist is to create; that’s what it means to be human. I’m grateful to be creating something tangible, realizing a vision, instead of drifting in passive consumption or empty theorizing.
silent reckoning
This body of work explores betrayal, moral ambiguity, and inner conflict through figurative expressionism. Each painting originates from a real-life emotional imprint.
Figures are morphed, placed in enigmatic settings. Animals serve as psychological reflections. The work invites discomfort and silence. Oil as a medium is used for its capacity to hold emotional weight.
This is not art for comfort. It is a moral witness, a visual time capsule for those willing to confront what lies beneath the surface.
Description of an art project as a preparation
Let discomfort reveal, not contaminate
Engage challenging art and ideas with discernment, not fear. What unsettles you might also teach you something essential.
#1 Letter to younger self
man+machine
I’m grateful to have discovered algorithmic trading. It has given structure and logic to what once felt like a chaotic process. I now see a framework where each step is governed by logic and reason.
That discipline is something I always aspired to embody, but could rarely sustain as a human being. Now I have a partner in the machine, one that reflects back the kind of reasoning I value: precise, methodical, and rational.
The sheer capacity of machines fascinates me: it can perform thousands of calculations, checks and balances every second, every minute, every hour, without pause. They don’t get tired. They don’t lose focus.
For me, there has been a tectonic shift in the decision-making flow. There’s a ruthless precision in every move. It follows logic, uncompromised by moods or emotions that often derail human judgment: fear, greed, frustration, or stress.
All said and done, a machine is only as reliable as the logic it is programmed with. What it offers me is not perfection, but consistency—a steady presence, an assurance that it has my back when my own judgement is clouded by emotion.
Intentional Living
We live in a time where worth is measured by outcome, efficiency, and scale. That erodes the inner dignity of labour. Doing the smallest task with full presence, and thereby imbuing it with dignity and meaning. This shift in mindset—“what I do matters, however small”—restores meaning.
That’s where intensity arises: from a willingness to commit fully to this brushstroke, this canvas, this conversation, rather than diffusing oneself into everything at once.
Intentional living, for me, is about conscious attention. The opposite of being pulled along by speed, distraction, or habit. I have deep respect for the artisan who works with care and devotion, a singular unwavering focus, as if it is the only thing in the world.
Intentionality is less about slowing down for the sake of slowness, and more about living intensely in the moment—with full heart, mind, and spirit. For me, that’s where dignity and purpose live.