“Paintings, Freedom and The Language of My Soul”

I’ve been painting for as long as I can remember.
It started in childhood, when I was just a little girl who loved drawing characters from the Kungfu movies I used to sneak-watch on TV. I’d sketch their sharp movements, long robes, and quiet strength—capturing their spirit with my pencil. I was fascinated by them.

There’s one memory that stands out.
I was watching The Return of the Condor Heroes, a classic Kungfu series, late into the evening—past what was considered bedtime for a child. My adoptive father called me out gently but firmly, telling me to go to sleep. I dragged myself to bed, grumpy but obedient. From my bedroom, I overheard him say, almost to himself, “Yeah, she may like Kungfu because of her origin…”

At the time, I didn’t understand what he meant.
But now I do.

Even then, art was my way of processing identity, mystery, and imagination.
Even then, drawing felt like truth.

As I grew older, painting remained with me—not as a daily routine, but like a loyal friend I returned to whenever I needed space, silence, or healing. Life got busy. Work came first. But my brush never disappeared completely. Over the years, I found myself drifting toward abstract painting. And that’s where everything changed.

Abstract painting became my freedom.

It allowed me to express what I couldn’t say with words. There were no rules, no forms I had to follow—just energy, emotion, and colour. When I paint abstracts, I don’t start with a plan. I follow instinct. I let the colours lead me. Sometimes I use black and white to capture contrast, sometimes I explode with bright, elegant palettes that feel alive on canvas.

To me, abstract art is soul work. It’s where the hidden parts of me—grief, wonder, longing, and peace—find shape without explanation. It’s not about what people see. It’s about what they feel.

Over time, I’ve created over 40 paintings, half of which are abstract. They’ve quietly collected in my space like fragments of my own inner journey. And one day—soon—I will have my own studio. A sacred space to hold these stories on canvas. A place where others can walk in and feel something too. Not just art for display, but art for reflection.

Because when we create from the soul, we invite others to recognize their own.

And that’s what I love most about painting. It’s not just my hobby.
It’s my language.
My sanctuary.
My freedom.

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This story is a part of my personal journey. Please do not copy or reproduce any part of it without permission. Sharing is welcome with proper credit and a link to this blog