Outlet

It all started with the relocation on May 7，1982 .... 

It was the very first time I felt the need to express myself in a truly genuine way. 

During that particular point in my life， I was totally helpless and everything around me was painfully chaotic ，to say the least . I started using my creativity as a way to deal with my fear and frustration   . Fortunately I was unable to find an outlet .... I could breathe through my writing . It allowed me to scream when I felt mute，it made me explode with intensity at the same time when I felt paralyzed by anxiety and depression ...  but most importantly ，it kept me alive.

I’ve never classified myself a writer，it’s not where my talent lies ( if I do have any ) but when I write  I truly feel right at home. 

Thru writing I get to balance the line between destruction and reconstruction ， between the rawness of my feeling and making something touching out of the chaos. I am also balancing between the subconscious and the intellect . I could go wild with all my emotions. The pens were like knife ，cutting out my pain ，the papers were also highly symbolic coz I was totally blank to start in this new place . I used black roller pen to demonstrate the dark place of depression.  It was very liberating. For years，I soaked my self in writing .... those were years of catharsis.

Nowadays，writing is no longer my profession tho  I still write on and off ... yet both my life and my passion have slightly changed  .  Writing is no longer my sole lifeline ... I find painting also gives me a sense of freedom .  When I put them both together piece by piece ，it's like staple my life back together ... and my heart of course ....