Sometime I think I’m an inconsistent complex. Distinctive and contradictive personas built my ever-changing mind. I’m not happy with it but I have to learn to live with it for now, since somehow I do think this is the orientation of my very inspiration and power, to hold on this place of mine in the world, and fight back against it.

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Flings of ideas. Peeks into cruelty. Beautiful and painful. Euphoria with dissatisfaction. Principle of justice against pure unjust. Those things I see, I hear, I feel…when they echo with me, harmoniously or not, that becomes my inspiration. With my born drive to create, I start to make art. I believe that is the central concept of my art. Otherwise, whatever I made would be simply soulless shell, not interesting, therefore futile. Of course art doesn't need a use, but my arts do, just some of them are for public, other are merely for me. I’d like to quote a musician I admire here, Anna-Varney Cantodea, that she sings to get some “things” out of her system. I need that too. I need art as an out.