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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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$1,200.00
“The soft fizz of unspoken joy.
小泡泡的喜悦。”
oil on canvas
41x51cm
Pop! Fizz….
The teddy bear jumped. The bottle beside him had just popped open, sending bubbles frothing across the brim.
“Careful now,” the bear whispered, “you’ll give it all away.”
But the bottle couldn’t help itself. It was graduation day, and pride was fizzing inside it like fireworks.
Mum sat nearby, silent as always, but beaming proudly at her son, who had not noticed.
The teddy bear took it all in. He knew the bottle’s secret: every bubble was a thought unsaid, a feeling unspoken. “I’m proud of you,” whispered in fizz, not in words. “I love you,” disguised as a clink of glass and a soft drink pressed into waiting hands.
Later, there would be a celebratory meal, perhaps some laughter shared over chicken and fries. But for now, the bear stood guard, watching pride overflow quietly, like soda escaping from a shaken bottle.
Just like the fizz of bottled up pride, and the quiet joy of a parent who struggles to express affirmation, whimsicality is about finding humour and tenderness in understated moments. Healing can come from recognising the love in these small, joyful moments, the love that has always been there, even unspoken.
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$680.00
“Your love guards the little things.
不起眼的一点一滴在不知觉中守候着我们。”
oil on canvas
46x46cm
Every night after the lights went out, Sergeant Smith took his post.
He wasn’t the biggest in the pantry, nor the loudest. But he had a job to do: to guard the biscuit tin, the sugar bowl and the milk jug with his life. After all, the biscuits were the children’s favourite - and under no circumstance were ants allowed in. Not on his watch.
By day, he was like clockwork, only performing as far as his gears allowed. But come nightfall, he sprang into action.
Squeaks of sugar-thieving mice? Dealt with. A family of ants on the countertop, waiting to sneak into the tin? Intercepted. He’d even once caught a cockroach red-handed, halfway up the biscuit tin.
And the next morning, when he saw the children happily digging into the biscuits at tea-time, chattering excitedly, the Sergeant would allow himself the smallest of nods.
Mission accomplished. Until tonight.
Love is often not expressed in grand battles, but in the smallest, everyday playful gestures. It often looks ordinary – checking the lights are off and doors are locked, covering someone with a blanket, waiting up for someone to come home. Devotion can be light hearted, even humorous, yet still profoundly tender. Sometimes love watches quietly, guarding the little things that make us feel safe.
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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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$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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$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.
