Showing 17–29 of 29 results
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$780.00
“Eternal joy lives in childhood wonder.
童心如初，喜乐无穷。”
oil on canvas
51x61cm
The bell rang. With a sigh of relief, I picked up my bag and ran out of class, followed by my gaggle of giggling friends. Instead of heading home from school to do our homework, we went straight to our favourite hangout – the great banyan tree just beside the track.
There, in its leafy shade, one of us took out our favourite game – five stones. It had been a craze in our school the past few weeks.
Ever since my dad had brought back a brand new set for me, neatly sewn with pink polka-dotted cloth and filled with mung beans, we had been obsessed. He told me how, in his day, they used pebbles or dried seeds picked off the ground, wrapped in bits of cloth if they were lucky. Sometimes, even real rice grains tied into scraps of fabric.
That day, under the banyan tree, we laughed and squealed and cheered each other on, tossing and catching, picking and dropping. In those moments, there was no rush, no noise, no homework pressing down on us. Just the sound of cloth landing softly on the pavement, and the rhythm of breath between each throw.
Now, years later, I see us again – in the shade, laughing. We have all grown up – but in my mind, the game continues. The childlike joy, the clumsy first tries, the gentle competition, the laughter….
Play doesn’t need to be loud or exciting. Sometimes its soft, rhythmic. It’s how we paused. It’s how we endured.
忙里偷闲，才有余温。
Childhood play was where we first learned wonder, imagination and connection. The simple games of youth remind us that joy doesn’t need to be bought, or perfect. There is a kind of healing power in childlike wonder: a reminder that even in busy lives, we carry with us the ability to pause, play and rediscover simplicity.
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$220.00
“Harmony is found when we return to our truest, deepest selves.
一只空瓶，回望初心。”
oil on canvas
31x31cm
I stood there – proud, glistening, gleaming. Everyone gathered close, their eyes fixed on me, as though I were a relic of magic, or a star they had waited their whole lives to see.
Their faces told the story – wide-eyed wonder, quiet longing, disbelief tinged with reluctant hope.
Could a bottle really awaken your forgotten dreams?
They said if you whispered your first dreams – the one you had before life grew heavy with responsibility and doubt – I would stir it awake. The long-lost feeling of joy, of passion, of wonder.
And in that moment, you’d remember. The happiness that once made your eyes light up. The ache of yearning that you’d feel when you were parted from it. The fire that set your heart racing.
Because harmony isn’t just peace. It is also reconnecting with yourself – and to carry that truth with you, quietly but steadfastly, through the course of life.
So tell me –
What would you whisper to the bottle?
Harmony begins within us – when we reconnect with who we truly are. We spend years chasing and striving, yet the truest parts of ourselves never disappear. When we remember who we are, the fragments of longing gather, and we become whole once more.
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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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$900.00
“Harmony ripens in the quiet rituals and steadfast companionship of love.
热带风情，细水长流。”
oil on canvas
51x51cm
Ah Ma always came home with rambutans. A whole bunch – red, ripe and hairy – tied up with twine. She’d drop them into a big porcelain bowl on the kitchen counter, pluck a few, and eat it by the window, looking out. None of her children ever knew why – until much later.
It was Ah Gong. She said he never brought flowers, but he’d come back from the market on Rambutan Road with fruit so fresh the stems were still damp. The first time, she scolded him for spending money. The second time, she peeled one for him without a word.
That became their rhythm. Evenings under the frangipani tree after dinner, the air thick with the scent of night blooms. The radio playing the famous Hokkien songs of the day, cicadas humming in the dark. He always saved the last piece of rambutan for her, and every time, she would peel it for him, slipping the sweeter half into his palm. They never said “I love you.” But it echoed in the silence.
Decades passed. Their children grew up. Rambutans came packed in netting now, bought from the supermarkets, no longer freshly plucked but stacked under cold fluorescent lights. And Ah Gong was long gone.
But she would forever remember the evening night, music playing, the sweetness of the rambutan on her lips…
In the tropical hush, fruits and petals gather. A quiet harmony, ripened over a lifetime of love.
Harmony in love is not always loud or declared – sometimes, it’s in the small, steady gestures repeated over a lifetime, and the unspoken understanding between two people. The quiet rituals anchor us, and shared tradition keep love alive long after words are gone.
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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.
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$1,300.00
“Where the ordinary becomes eternal.
一念入梦。“
oil on canvas
51x61cm
He hadn’t planned to go far – just a quiet morning’s row, a way to ease the mind. The mist hung heavy over the water, soft as breath. But as the river curved, the world seemed to change.
The air shimmered faintly. Trees leaned closer, their reflections trembling like liquid glass. He thought he heard music – or maybe it was only the melody of the wind. Then, as if guided by something unseen, he entered a bay he had never noticed before.
The light there was unlike any he’d known – gold melting into rose, rippling like silk across the waves. Time slowed, then stilled. The scent of salt and moss wrapped around him, and for a moment he forgot everything – the sounds of the city, the endless errands of living – all faded, as though they belonged to another lifetime.
He felt no fear. Only awe. The world, vast and eternal, breathed through him. He was no longer man or wanderer, but part of something much more infinite – a whisper in the rhythm of wind and tide.
When he finally drifted back, the mist had thickened. The bay was gone, leaving no trace of its existence. And yet, deep inside, he knew – he had not imagined it.
For in that brief crossing, he had glimpsed the eternity of the universe – and found peace in being part of it.
In Reverie, memory and dream converge – and through that veil, the ordinary becomes eternal. This work is a quiet fable about transcendence: the fleeting, magical moment when we step beyond ourselves – not to escape, but to awaken.
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$600.00
“The trembling joy of firsts.
记忆随风升起，童心仍在天际。“
oil on canvas
36x46cm
Kite flying was always a family ritual – a gaggle of us trooping towards the park, colourful canvases in hand, giggling and laughing. With the sweet wind in our hair, sunlight on our faces, our feet against the emerald green grass, we released our colours into the cotton candy sky.
I was always too young to join in, watching enviously from the sidelines, wondering what the excitement was all about. And finally, on that dreamy afternoon, I was about to find out.
Someone – maybe my father, or my brother – knelt beside me, his hands guiding mine around the reel. “Wait for the wind”, he said. I remember squinting into the glare, the thread cutting softly against my palms, the kite trembling like it could sense my heartbeat.
Then – a gust, sudden and strong. It surged upward, taking the string with it, and I almost stumbled. Laughter erupted around me as the kite caught the sky, fluttering and steadying itself all at once. For a moment, I thought I was flying with it – breath held, heart racing, utterly alive.
Over the years, I’ve flown countless kites since. The motions come easily now, the familiar rhythm of pull and release.
But try as I might, I could never recreate that same trembling rush of joy, that small miracle of flight, that quiet pride of holding on for the first time.
That feeling lives somewhere beyond reach – in the soft folds of memory, in the quiet country of dreams – where time drifts, and the child in me still runs beneath a sky of colour.
Reverie drifts between waking and memory – the soft space where moments are half-remembered, yet felt completely. This painting captures that space of wonder: the trembling joy of a first experience, suspended forever in time.
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$900.00
“The essence of love remains even when memories fade.
深情常在。”
oil on canvas
46x46cm
Across time and tide, fish appears in many guises — dried, grilled, salted, or swimming in porcelain blue.
Yet no matter how its shape shifts, one image stays with us:
that familiar, quiet presence on grandmother’s table,
the scent of home, wrapped in banana leaves and history.
In the hush of recollection,
we do not remember the recipe, nor the seasoning —
only the essence:
a fish rendered in care, served in love,
and etched forever in the plate of memory.
鱼的模样可以千变万化，
但记忆只留下那一条——
那年饭桌上的味道，
那是家的模样，也是心中不变的形状。
Memories fade with time, shedding details until everything blurs. Only love survives this distillation: shapes shift, seasons pass, love endures in its purest form – simple, timeless, unforgettable.
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$1,200.00
“Endurance in nature’s quiet resilience and persistence.
山河无声，自有永恒。”
oil on canvas
46x61cm
The river meanders gently along the shore, gleaming with sunlight and moonlight.
For thousands of years, it nourished life. It provided fresh water to drink for the population living near it. Along its banks, crops thrived in the sun, fed by the steady current.
If you looked closely, you could even see rainbow-coloured schools of fish, of all kinds, swimming underneath the clear surface. Fishermen cast their nets with quiet reverence, drawing from the river’s bounty. Boats glided along its length, carrying dreams and goods between distant lands, with the river offering safe passage and sustenance without complaint.
Beside it, stood the rocks, equally quiet, firm and unshaken.
Then came the pollution. Factories rose along the banks. Wastewater, oil and chemical sludge poured into the clear, glistening water. Once a mirror of the sky, the river grew dark and cloudy. Plastic bottles drifted where fish once swam.
The river, once a source of life, now bore the weight of human neglect.
Still, the river flowed. Enduring through the seasons, scorching summers and harsh winters, the relentless march of industrialization, large scale efforts to clean it up.
And beside it, the rocks remained – witnesses of change and sentinels of memory. They guarded the unwavering beauty of the river. A reminder that even in loss, nature endures – and waits, patiently – for its return.
Among all things, nature endures most. Despite human neglect, pollution and waste, nature still persists. This is a tribute: to the resilience of rivers, to the strength of landscapes, and a reminder for us that the endurance of the earth is inseparable from our own.
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![Tiny Triumphs <br> 小小冒险 [Sold]](https://i0.wp.com/artcsk.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/WhatsApp-Image-2025-10-08-at-2.20.18-PM.jpeg?resize=300%2C300&ssl=1)
$380.00
“Every small courage deserves a witness.
小小勇气，值得嘉许。“
oil on canvas
31x61cm
The bear had seen many great adventures – tea parties, blanket forts, daring expeditions under the dining table.
But today felt special.
His little human sat across him, staring very seriously at a fruit. Not a toy fruit or the plastic kind that he played with – but a real one. Round, purple, mysterious. “It looks weird,” the child whispered. The bear silently agreed.
Still, when the bite finally came – a squish, a pause, and then a burst of sweetness – the bear watched it happen: surprise widening into laughter, and laughter into pure delight.
Something in his soft, stitched chest swelled with pride. This was bravery – the first taste of something new, something real.
And so he sat, smiling quietly beside the last fig, knowing that growing up begins just like this – a little courage, a little sweetness, and someone to share it with.
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$1,080.00
“Endurance in the return of beauty, strength and dignity after battle.
战痕犹在，花开依旧。”
oil on canvas
51x51cm
The war horse trudged through the field of daisies - weary but proud.
He had seen many battles. Felt the weight of history on its back.
The clash of metal, the thunder of drums, and the silence that loomed after the storm. Scars formed a silver web on its dark hide, each one an echo of horrors he would never forget.
But now, surrounded by soft petals and golden light, he walked not to conquer, but to remember.
Children tinkled in the fields, their laughter like merry windchimes. A bell rang faintly from the village road. And somewhere, a faint melody drifted across the fields.
The horse trudged on. Each step stirred up a quiet flurry of crimson dust. The daisies, once trampled by the march of time, had finally bloomed again.
Endurance is not only about conquering, but also life after the battle – when healing softens the scars and the flowers bloom again. It is the quiet, healing strength that carries on, restoring dignity, memory and hope across time.
