“Peek-A-Dawn 破晓” has been added to your cart.
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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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$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.
