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$980.00
“Just a pause for rest, not retreat.
为蓄力而暂停。”
oil on canvas
48x64cm (framed)
It had finally happened. After months of frantic discussions, postponed gatherings, and a tide of growing rumours, it came. With a metaphorical clang, the doors to freedom slammed shut: the lockdown.
At first, it was disorienting. Hours blurred into days, and days into weeks. All the plans we’d made…shelved. All our motion…stilled.
Productivity gave way to restlessness. Silence crept into the corners of every room. We could no longer chase. All we could do…was stay.
And slowly, unexpectedly – our mind began to clear. Dreams and ideas that had long been buried surfaced. In the silence, we could finally hear our own heartbeat. Not one driven by urgency or survival – but the steady rhythm of something older, quieter. Desires long unspoken, questions we’d never had time to ask. A gentler version of ourselves, once hidden beneath obligation.
We remembered what it felt like to create without purpose. To feel without performance. To simply exist – and find meaning in the stillness.
The world had paused – but something far stronger returned. A soft clarity, a quiet courage. The resilience to begin again, slowly.
The strength it takes not to push forward – but to stay…to be…to breathe.
It wasn’t the end. It was just a pause for rest, not retreat.
Whimsicality is the gentle rebellion against the hustle of life. It is the freedom to pause, laugh at small things, notice the playful rhythms of life. It is a tribute to playfulness, childlike wonder, and the joy of stepping back to regain clarity.
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$1,300.00
“The tender joy of embracing imperfection and vulnerability in unguarded, relaxed moments.“
归于安然。“
oil on canvas
46×46 cm
Rei roused drowsily from his nap, his eyes blinking open. For a moment, he forgot where he was – in his dreams, he had been wandering in a mysterious garden, full of leaves and flowers.
Then he remembered, with the cool blue-green silk sheets pooled around him, that it was yet another typical weekend afternoon. Out of the corner of his half-closed eyes, he could see Shelly, the ladybug, perched on the edge of the carpet, glaring at him.
He blinked guiltily – he had promised to play with her, but he had fallen asleep and forgot all about it.
But where was Susie, his owner? She was usually bustling around, either working on her projects, cleaning the house, or running errands on her to-do list that seemed to be never-ending. This week, he remembered, she had an unusually long to-do list.
Then he saw her – instead of her usual tasks, she was sprawled on the corner of the room, her hair in a messy bun, and her hands full of paint. A large canvas was laid out in front of her, and the brush in her hand left large, slow brushstrokes on the fresh white surface. A usually meticulous painter, she seemed to be playing – letting her imagination take flight as she occasionally splashed paint on the canvas.
But what caught his attention was the uncharacteristically serene and peaceful smile on her face. The room was quiet, the air was still, but her eyes glowed – with pleasure, tenderness, and just a hint of vulnerability.
He meowed, trying to catch her attention. But she did not hear him. It was as if she was lost in her own world, pouring the weariness, noise and dust of the city into every messy brushstroke. And with every stroke, she seemed to grow more inspired, more refreshed, more alive.
He watched, his eyes wide, as if mesmerized by her state of flow. Then he smiled – at the tenderness of imperfection and vulnerability, and embracing it fully in the most rare, unguarded and relaxed moments.
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$1,800.00
“A study in small shifts.”
细微之处，悄然不同。“
oil on canvas
46×61 cm
Rei stretched lazily on the granite steps, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun.
It was another weekend afternoon, and he had been left alone once again while his owner rushed out in a flurry – easel over one shoulder, bag of brushes in hand, already halfway distracted before the door had closed. Rei watched her go, the sound of her joyful footsteps fading, wondering when she would be back.
Two bottles of milk sat neatly on the step nearby, catching the same amber light. Rei studied them, savouring the anticipation where he could finally taste the cold, sweet milk.
Suddenly, something small shifted - a ladybug had found its way onto the step.
It moved slowly, testing the surface, then began its ambitious climb up the side of one of the milk bottles. The glass reflected its tiny shape as it climbed, each step patient yet precise. It was a long journey, and the ladybug paused when it reached the top.
Rei watched, more intently now.
“That’s quite the climb,” he said at last, admiringly. “Seems like a lot of effort for such a small place.”
The ladybug turned, as if surprised to be noticed. “Small?” It said after a moment. “Perhaps. But its higher than where I started.”
“Does it really make that much of a difference?” Rei asked. There was no judgement in his voice – only curiosity, and something more exposed. “To climb a little, I mean. When everything else stays the same.”
“I don’t need to change everything,” the ladybug said slowly. “Just enough so I can see it differently.”
“And when you’re done looking?” He asked. “When you go back down?”
The ladybug smiled. “Then I’ll still remember how it looked from up here.”
Rei lay back against the warm stone, thoughtfully. Nothing had changed – and yet, something had. Perspective didn’t belong to those who travelled far. Sometimes, it arrived quietly, through a small climb, a slight shift, a willingness to look again.
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$600.00
“The joy of letting dawn find us.
让清晨来拥抱你。“
oil on canvas
36x28cm
There was a strange phenomenon – once every hundred years, at exactly midnight, the moon would turn a pale, glassy, mirrored blue. Legends whispered – a star had fallen. To them, it was a mystical event.
However, to Rei, it was the trip he had been waiting for a lifetime.
For as long as he could remember, he had watched from far away – that bright blue globe swirling with green, speckled with wonder. He had heard tales of wind and sunlight.
So when the sky-path opened – that century gateway of blue, he didn’t hesitate. With a flick of his starlit tail and a breath filled with courage, he leapt.
Now, he lay there, looking curiously around him.
He heard the laughter first. Light, bright, ringing through the quiet dawn like little stars falling into place. Two children were running down a path – chasing bubbles, chasing sunlight, chasing nothing at all. When they skidded to a stop and spotted him, his entire body tensed, cautiously.
For a heartbeat, the world waited.
Then, recalling why he had come – travelling galaxies for a new adventure – he took a measured step forward.
The children crouched down curiously, looking at him with wonder, as he basked in the sunlight. One of them whispered, almost in awe, “Look, he’s…glowing.”.
Rei felt something warm and unfamiliar bloom in his tiny chest.
At that moment, Rei understood something the stars had never taught him: that a gaze could be warm like dawn itself – meeting you without demand, inviting you into the day just as you are.
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$1,500.00
“The joy of almost.
乐在其中。“
oil on canvas
61x76cm
To most, it was just a forgotten wisp dangling off the edge of the table.
To him, it was destiny.
Shelby’s eyes locked onto the prize, pupils transfixed, whiskers trembling. To him, the string became the tail of a monstrous serpent, a golden flag, a rope to glory. He was no house cat in that moment, but a knight on the cusp of triumph, chosen for the quest.
And yet, he stayed still.
The house was silent. It was a mundane Saturday afternoon and for once, not even the children were there to tumble with him. The air was thick with boredom, and the dangling string was the only spark of magic left in the room.
He narrowed his eyes, calculating. Every fibre of his body begged him to leap. His paws flexed, claws half-unfurled. His whiskers twitched in anticipation. A fiery storm raged inside him: the thrill of the hunt against the dignity of restraint.
Minutes blurred into hours. The game was not in the catch, but in the waiting – the delicious, sweet ache of longing.
After what seemed like forever, the door burst open. “Shelby, why are you still sitting there?” One of the children exclaimed, fresh from the amusement park, his voice bright with laughter.
The spell broke. The knight sighed, returning to his ordinary form. He lowered his eyes and curled his tail, a little embarrassed but also oddly satisfied.
Playtime was over – or perhaps, he thought, the play had been there all along.
Desire can be a source of delight in itself. The joy is in savouring the anticipation - the playful ache of “almost”. Imagination can transform longing into lightness, reminding us that the true adventure often lives in the pause before the leap.
