Slow Art

On Slow Art

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it means to create slowly.

We live in a world that values speed—fast results, fast content, fast success. But art doesn’t always work that way. At least not the kind of art I want to make. The kind I need to make.

For me, painting is not just about producing an image. It’s about returning to a quiet rhythm. It’s about noticing the way light falls on a field, or how a color feels when it settles into paper. It’s about stepping back between layers, letting something dry, letting myself think.

There’s honesty in that kind of pace.

There’s also trust.

Trusting that even without a tight deadline or a flurry of output, the work is still growing.

That meaning can emerge—not from rushing—but from staying.

What Slow Art Looks Like

Sometimes, slow art is visible in the final painting: a soft edge that couldn’t be rushed. A color mixed just right because I waited. A subject that feels gentle and whole.

But sometimes, it’s not visible at all. It’s in the weeks spent wondering what I’m really trying to say. Or in letting myself paint something light-hearted in between deeper work. Or in choosing not to share everything I make.

Why I Choose This Pace

I’m not trying to keep up. I’m trying to stay connected.

To myself, to what matters, to what feels real in this moment.

Making art slowly doesn’t mean working less—it means working more attentively, more intentionally. It’s about honoring process over pressure.

And that, to me, is where the joy is.

Eats and Escapes

I’ve started a watercolor series that captures my love for discovery, simple joys, and the quiet beauty of both nature and everyday life. From serene landscapes to delicate sushi and delectable pastries, this series is a playful exploration of what nourishes us—both body and soul.

I invite viewers to pause, savor fleeting moments, and escape into scenes that feel both familiar and open to endless imagination. Blending my appreciation for subtle, airy aesthetics with a sense of wonder, Eats and Escapes is an ongoing journey of creativity and curiosity, grounded in the things that bring comfort, delight, and inspiration.

Why I’m Moving Away from Digital Art to Embrace Traditional Media

As an artist, I have always sought to push the boundaries of creativity, exploring new techniques and tools that expand how we express ourselves. For years, digital art was my chosen medium, offering endless possibilities through platforms like Procreate on the iPad. Blending my Asian heritage with modern technology allowed me to create works that felt deeply personal and uniquely contemporary.

But over time, I began to feel a quiet pull toward something else—a desire for the tactile, the imperfect, and the handcrafted. It wasn’t an easy decision. I had spent two years immersing myself in the world of AI-generated art, studying its processes and marveling at its possibilities. AI is undeniably impressive, capable of producing visually stunning results at astonishing speed. Yet, the more I engaged with it, the more I sensed a critical gap: the authenticity and emotional resonance that only human hands can bring.

This realization led me to shift away from relying solely on digital tools and to rediscover traditional media like watercolor and acrylic. Traditional art, with its deliberate pace and physical connection to materials, offers an intimacy that feels increasingly rare in a world saturated with machine-generated imagery. In an era where AI can imitate human creativity with startling precision, the act of creating by hand becomes not just a choice but a statement of values.

That said, I haven’t entirely abandoned digital tools. They remain an integral part of my process, helping me explore ideas, experiment with color palettes, and refine compositions before putting brush to canvas. AI, in particular, serves as a powerful tool for generating possibilities—but it’s the human touch that ultimately shapes the final piece. This synergy between technology and tradition allows me to produce art that feels both innovative and deeply rooted.

My artistic journey is also shaped by the landscapes and cultural influences that inspire me. The rolling hills and coastal beauty of the East Coast, combined with elements of Asian culture, find their way into my work. These themes—nature, heritage, and the intricate intersections of the human experience—have always been at the heart of my art. Moving to traditional media has allowed me to explore them in ways that feel both timeless and contemporary.

This transition is more than a return to the “old ways” of making art. It’s a response to a changing world where technology continues to challenge our understanding of creativity. For me, embracing traditional techniques is about celebrating the irreplaceable essence of human artistry: the imperfections, the labor, and the emotional depth that machines cannot replicate. It’s a reaffirmation of the power of the human hand to create something meaningful.

As I navigate this path, I’m reminded that art is as much about the journey as it is about the finished piece. By combining the best of both worlds—technology and tradition—I hope to continue creating works that resonate with others and celebrate the enduring spirit of creativity.