FOR A LONG TIME, I designed for other people; image, branding, marketing, dresses, shows, costumes and all. At some point, I became more interested in the things that I couldn’t quite explain or resolve, because in design, we solve problems. But in art, we ask questions.

THE MEDIUM changes all the time, but the instinct doesn’t. I’m quite multimedia: traditional oils, acrylics, charcoal, photos, assemblages, sculptures, and digital. Some work I see in a digital format, others in another.

I USUALLY START with an observation of everyday life, really. Sometimes I like to explore different points of view, while other times I just appreciate what it is upfront. I think about the journey of the subject through the whole creative process.

IT ALWAYS COMES BACK to systems that we take for granted because they happen every day. A lot of it comes from my kopitiam eavesdropping. I love hanging out there in the morning, or with the beer uncles. Then I just push it, and build a world or visual language around it. Enough to make the familiar feel unfamiliar again.

THIS IS NOT a preaching project. I don’t work for the National Environmental Agency. You may not get it at first, but hopefully over the course, it [leaves] some kind of residue in your mental scape. Somehow, you dig it out, or it manifests in a dream.

I DON'T HAVE A prescribed reaction that you should have, or what you should take home after visiting the show. I like to welcome you into the realm, and what you take away from it is based on your own experience and stages in life. You may see something that I haven’t seen

I ONLY HAVE about 20 seconds of your attention. Sometimes it’s just your state of mind. You may be preoccupied with something. You are staring at the work, but it doesn’t register. It’s all about walking in comfortable, and leaving slightly different. Unsure, tickled, ruffled, even, or empowered.

WHAT I DO is not the answer; the viewer is the answer.

I SECOND-GUESS MYSELf when my studio is too neat. I think, “Oh my god, did I not do anything right?” Because I’m not clinical, but when it’s too clean, it’s not asking questions.

LIFE IS NOT A SHOW FLAT in a condo. It can be neat, but not tidy.

THE MOST CHALLENGING PROJECT is the one that is closest to daily life, because the nuances are so hard to see. A lot of my work is not so abstract, so trying to look again from a different perspective while keeping your own is the difficult part.

I FIND IT EXCITING when the projects have no roadmaps. It’s like when you’re inventing a language as you go. I love journeys without itineraries or return tickets. You just go and see what happens.

I DON'T HAVE AN IDÉE FIXE of the way my work should be. Halfway through, I may trip on something, listen to or see something that allows me to explore a different direction. I’m happy to get lost. I do that all the time, like a flâneur.

I LIVED IN FRANCE for about 11 years, so I picked up on all their strange words. This instinct to drift, observe, to pass through spaces, almost feels in my blood. I’m also Hakka: guest people of China. They wander around, so I guess it’s in my DNA.

THE WORLD IS ONE DESTINATION with many stops. So, I like to do stopovers. Or forced transits. I have lived away for 25 years in Paris, London, New York, Dusseldorf, Brussels, Hong Kong; and I don’t have a favourite city. They are all special in their own way, and I tend to like being open about my appreciation of something.

WHAT I'M ALWAYS FASCINATED WITH are civilisations, peoples, cities. The different layers of it—archeologically, chronology, demographically, culturally. It’s like peeling a giant kueh lapis. Sometimes there are a few more layers I haven’t peeled off, then I’ll revisit.

I’M ALWAYS ANCHORED to my family. Otherwise, I’d be like driftwood, right? It doesn’t mean I’m purposeless, but family helps reset, like the bearings.

I’VE HAD QUITE a few major accidents in my life, so I’m quite lucky that I’m... still alive. I’ve also realised time isn’t endless, and one has to reset one’s relationship with fear. So, I’m not afraid of making mistakes and learning from them within whatever time I have left.

I’M QUITE FORTUNATE to have many wonderful childhood memories, but one of my favourites was during the ghost month. It’s not that death interests me, but as kids living in Kampong Bahru, while the parents were watching the opera on stilts;[underneath the stage], we are running around and reenacting the show up there.

CREATING OUR LITTLE WORLD, in a little bubble in an eerie landscape of the seventh month. What was nice about the whole thing was that you’re not supposed to be doing all of that, but staying at home. [That was the] only chance that you get to go out at night; we had a riot.