“Living among the old walls 时间的记忆” has been added to your cart.
View cart
Showing 1–16 of 30 results
-
$3,000.00
“Blooming together against all odds.
逆境中盛放。”
oil on canvas
61x61cm (1.5inch thick)
The baby slumbers quietly,
cradled by the mirrored blue ,
its breath rising with every ripple
Nourished by shadows,
it sleeps in the embrace of moss-green shade,
gathering its strength in the mud
Nights pass and winds gather,
yet the baby snores,
clinging stubbornly to Mother Earth
With a ray of golden sunlight,
long-awaited kiss of dawn,
petal by petal it breaks free -
A soft triumph,
a tender breakthrough,
fresh, pure and true
Birds awaken, insects sing,
the world glows,
in the wake of pink
-
$3,000.00
“It brews, unfurls and soars.
酝酿，展翼，高飞。”
oil on canvas
61x61cm (1.5inch thick)
He lingers at the fragile edge,
trembling with the hush of cool air,
silvery wings veined in morning light
Born in the shallows,
he has known struggle and silence,
the patience of time,
the slow alchemy of change
Now he is ready,
each breath a gathering of courage,
each shimmer a determined promise
Unhurried and unafraid,
staring at the cool blue,
peering through the depths
Then - a sudden gleam,
a quick flash -
he takes to the air,
soaring
-
$500.00
“The tender joy of self-discovery
原来我们本来就值得拥有。”
oil on canvas
31x41cm
For days he lumbered on in the dessert, the scorching sun beating down on his black, rusty hide. The sky was a flat, chalky blue, like the canvas of a painting that stretched above him.
The dull yellow sand sprawled endlessly ahead of him, without even a hint of the gleam of water and fruit. Not even the pale, dusty mirages that had fooled him countless times since he had embarked on this fruitless journey.
He had lost count of how many others had turned back over the years. How many times he had been told he wouldn’t make it - not him. Not him with his crooked frame, his slow gait, his odd, clunky shape.
But he walked anyway. For the little ones at home. For every voice that had whispered doubt to him. For the quiet hope that he stubbornly carried, even when he didn’t believe it himself.
Surely miracles weren’t real. But he couldn’t give up now.
Then suddenly, in the distance, something glinted. Perhaps yet another trick of the light or an illusion. The bright, golden glimmer of the promised fruit. Was it possible that he could have found it?
Him?
He approached slowly.
Step by step, the round, ripe and radiant shape took form. The solidness of the fruit, with the fragrant, sweet scent that told him, undeniably, that he had found it.
A wave of emotion rushed over him – disbelief, gratitude and a fragile joy that had waited a lifetime – and a tiny, glimmer of hope that he scarcely dared to let himself feel, that maybe, just maybe, he had been enough all along.
We wander for years, carrying our self-doubt, convinced of our own lacking. Yet the truest gifts arrive when we overcome our deepest fears, like water seeping into a desert – telling us we were deserving all along.
-
$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.
-
$900.00
“Harmony in the rhythm of change, and the quiet grace of new beginnings.
随季而安，万物自新。”
oil on canvas
46x46cm
Every year, when leaves unfurled, frozen edges thawed, and it turned spring, the birds would rouse from their nests and gather. First borne out of survival instinct, it was now a time-honoured tradition – the welcoming of a new year.
The elders flew ahead, scouting for safe havens. The younger ones trailed behind, learning the rhythms of the land, flowing with the cycle of sun, seed and soil. And once a good spot was found – with grain, sun and peace, they’d stay, if only for a moment.
This year, the youngest among them found it first: a humble kitchen in an old shophouse, its wooden window left open to the cool morning breeze. In the glow of the first sunlight, someone had left a scoop of golden soybeans - a small gift in honour of the renewal of the season.
An unexpected delight.
The bird took only what it needed. And in that humble offering, a quiet blessing was exchanged – another year of harvest, harmony and abundance for them all.
Gratitude for the grace of spring’s arrival.
In the flow of the seasons, we learn to accept change without fear – to release the old and welcome the new. To live in harmony is to move in step with nature’s rhythm, finding peace in the certainty of new beginnings.
-
$900.00
“Necessary farewells that honour shifting seasons and preserve shared memories.
三梨三别，二柿有情，
愿你柿事顺利，梨也好，别亦安。”
oil on canvas
46x46cm
After several months, the day was finally here.
He stood on the edge of the dusty road, eyes lingering on the ancient mountains he had known his whole life – soon to be just a distant memory. The carriage wheels groaned in the distance. The moment had come.
No fanfare, no speeches. Just a quiet parting.
His dearest friend arrived, holding a small cloth bundle. “A little something for the road.”
They didn’t say much. They didn’t need to. After a childhood of running wild through fields, and sneaking river swims, words only got in the way. The goodbye had been coming for a long time – and they both knew it. Still, when their eyes met, something flickered through them. Not regret, but love wrapped in the ache of change.
The hardest goodbyes were the ones that were necessary.
On the carriage, he opened the bundle. Inside lay three pears and two persimmons. Moved, he bit into a pear gently. It was the freshest pear he had ever eaten, but in his mouth, it was bittersweet.
Three pears, for the reluctant goodbyes.
Two persimmons, for the words unspoken.
Bon Voyage, dear friend.
三梨三别，二柿有情，
愿你柿事顺利，梨也好，别亦安
Some goodbyes are temporary, while others stretch along indefinitely. The bittersweet truth of necessary farewell: some endings honour shifting seasons, yet preserve the love that was shared in memory, like the sweetness of a fruit that lingers on the tongue long after it is finished.
-
$1,000.00
“Glamour fades, grace endures.
光影流转，风华不减。”
oil on canvas
61x61cm
Hesitantly, she bows. There’s a smattering of applause, someone smiles, and people throng towards their next meal. Slowly, the audience dissipates into the night, while she gathers her skirts and steps gingerly off the stage.
Not long ago, it seemed, she had debuted to roaring crowds, the flashing lights of the film cameras almost blinding her, on the largest stage in the city.
She could still remember the flowers, the scent of jasmine, the gramophone jazz in the background, and the clinking of champagne glasses, all toasting to her.
Now, the lights dim earlier. The satin clings to a thin frame. And her voice is no longer the sparkling nightingale’s song, revered back in the day. But she sings anyway, not for fame but for something more enduring.
For the little girl who first discovered how to sing. For the mother who taught her to carry herself with grace. For the memory of a time when beauty wasn’t about youth, but poise.
As she ambled slowly along the cobblestoned street, her shadow dances under the streetlamps.
Glamour fades, but grace never does.
Light meets glass and memory clings —
a quiet moment from a sunlit past.
Bottles catch yesterday’s glow,
apples hold its fading warmth.
Beauty, once vivid, now settles softly,
a sigh in the afternoon stillness.
光映瓶影，暖留苹果，
昨日的阳光轻轻落在桌上，
像一声无言的叹息，
将美好封存于午后静谧中
Lights dim, applause fades, and crowds move on. But grace never disappears – in the poise of dignity, the resilience and courage, and the tenderness of our actions. It is the lasting glow, the aftertaste of elegance, the presence that endures.
-
-
$1,000.00
“The flavour of memory that lingers longer than taste.
味已散去，忆犹留香。”
oil on canvas
51x61cm
I woke up to the sound of laughter – my siblings already bustling in the tiny kitchen. It was nearly 11am. Sunday and no school! A familiar scent immediately bombarded my nostrils. And then I recognized it: fried fish!
The scent reached me before the sun did - crispy, salty and sweetly spiced. It was the kind of smell that drew you out of bed with no complaint.
There they were, already seated, chattering between bites, sunlight pouring in.
In the middle of it all: a dish we had eaten a hundred times: fried fish, golden and glistening, wrapped in banana leaves. Simple, perfect.
And there she was too – my mother.
Moving between stove and table, effortless in her rhythm. She looked up, caught my eye, and smiled.
That smile – it lingers longer than the taste.
Some flavours fade quickly from the tongue, yet the memory stays – carrying with it our experiences of love, safety and belonging. They remind us of what grounds us, of the roots that never leave, even as the seasons change.
-
-
$900.00
“Harmony flows in the embrace of growth, anchored by our deepest truths.
水流不息。”
oil on canvas
51x51cm
The soft porcelain surface -
dreams, wishes and memories swimming in its curve.
As the current of time passes, five remain.
Four leap outwards, chasing the shimmer of waves;
One lingers, floating, watching.
Some carried forth as unspoken hopes,
others kept close as memory.
The delicate balance of harmony -
a cradle for becoming.
九鱼之中，五中四外，寓意愿望有留有往；
跃出的是未来，留下的是思念；
鱼不停游，愿不曾止。
Being in harmony with ourself is a lifelong dialogue between holding on and letting go. In becoming who we are, some parts of us leap forward into the unknown – whether it is in the form of new dreams, shedding old limitations, or growth - while others remain, anchoring us to our history and dreams. The balance is not about choosing one over the other, but about letting both shape us.
-
$500.00
“Harmony lives in the fleeting beauty of ordinary life.
珍惜平凡。”
oil on canvas
31x41cm
In a few weeks, everything would change. Doors would close, windows would shut, and the time would stop. But on that bright, beautiful morning, no one knew.
The boats lounged at the pier. The sea glistened under the wan morning light. A breeze blew, carrying with it the scent of sea salt and warmth.
It was another quiet morning at the pier. Fishermen worked their nets, children slept, and neighbours strolled slowly about.
Looking back, this was the last ordinary morning for a long time. The last one before masks, silence and separation.
A seagull chirped. No one would know that the view that they had taken for granted would become a precious luxury in a few weeks.
But for now, everything was in peace.
Harmony.
Harmony lives in the everyday – the first light of morning, in routine, in the calm before change. To embrace harmony is to hold these ordinary moments close, to find balance and gratitude in what is often overlooked.
-
![In Full Bloom <br> 梦中之舞 [Sold]](https://i0.wp.com/artcsk.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/WhatsApp-Image-2025-10-08-at-2.23.29-PM.jpeg?resize=300%2C300&ssl=1)
$880.00
“Grace unfurls, effortless and free.
光落之处，皆为舞台。“
oil on canvas
46x46cm
The lights dimmed, and the orchestra sighed into stillness.
For a suspended breath, time stood still – the faint rustle of tulle, the glimmer of satin beneath the orchestra lights, the soft cadence of a heart about to take flight.
Then, she began to dance.
Her every motion unfurled like a whisper – fluid, unhurried, serene. Arms curved through air with the grace of petals opening to morning light. Each step, each turn, carried a quiet certainty – the kind that needs no witness.
Once, she had danced for perfection. But in that moment, she danced only for herself, because she was, finally, free.
The spotlight caught her mid-pirouette, her silhouette glowing in soft gold. For that fleeting instant, time folded – everything went silent, suspended, eternal.
And there, in the hush between motion and memory, she found peace – the kind that comes when confidence stops trying, and simply is.
In Full Bloom celebrates that dreamlike moment when confidence feels effortless – when grace transcends technique, and passion becomes stillness. It’s a reverie of joy, self-belief, and the quiet magic of standing tall in one’s own light.
-
$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.
-
$1,300.00
“Endurance of spirit, etched in history and legacy.
岁月流转，精神长存。”
oil on canvas
51x 61cm
She was a relic of the past, no doubt. She had lived through decades – but still, each morning, the world found a way to surprise her.
Once, she watched the proud Peranakan families of the Straits, with the air fresh with the scent of fragrantly spiced nyonya dishes. Children, crisply dressed, spilled out from the newly erected schools along the road. The tinkle of laughter was a common sound to her, but also the shadows - the days of secret societies, whispered deals, and police raids that left the streets uneasy.
As the years passed, she watched with growing curiosity and wonder as the world around her became modernized. Renovated, polished and preserved. The rowdy symphony of the old world softened into a quaint, cultured charm.
She thought she had seen it all. Yet the world kept growing, from bicycles to cars, from the gravelly streets to tree-lined sidewalks.
Now when people saw her, they would marvel at her elegant façade, capturing her tiles glazed with Peranakan details and European style archways on their digital cameras.
She glowed with pride, and not without a little nostalgia.
The world had changed, but she remained – watching, remembering. A witness to history, a vessel of stories.
History and life often share the same rhythm – both are marked by change, but yet are rooted in heritage and memory. This is both a tribute to Singapore’s heritage and the human spirit – the strength to adapt, to remember, and to remain across the test of time.
-
$780.00
“Harmony blooms from our roots and family, passed down in tradition.
莲花含苞环绕，仿佛一场静谧盛宴。寓意和谐安宁，福气绵长。”
oil on canvas
46x51cm
There’s something about lotus seeds that always fills her with excitement.
Every Lunar New Year, her mother would make her signature lotus seed soup – rich, sweet, and fragrant. She would peel, rinse, boil, stir – a ritual as steady as the seasons - until the scent of lotus wove itself through the kitchen, signalling that long awaited reunion dinner was near.
The scent of lotus is as vivid as those memories – laughter over round tables, sound of chopsticks clinking, tiles shuffling on the mahjong table, murmur of voices growing louder as the night deepened. Generations gathered around to share joy and responsibility in a celebration for the turn of a new year and a prosperous start ahead.
The lotus isn’t just a flower, nor are its seeds just food. It is a symbol of harmony as well as resilience.
May we never forget where we came from – and may we always keep a place for one another at the table.
Harmony is the presence of belonging. In family traditions and shared rituals, we inherit both love and resilience – a harmony passed down, reminding us that we are never alone.
