I was born in Shanghai, China, and came to the United States with my parents at age 15, having completed all but the last year of high school in China. In those years, all school children, from about age six on, were required to do calligraphy every day in small and large characters as a daily exercise, somewhat similar to penmanship in the west. An average of one hour a day was spent copying past masters of calligraphy in several styles and sizes. By about age 12 most, if not all, were quite proficient in the handling of a brush, at least to the extent that handwriting could be legible throughout China. As in all endeavors, some excelled more than others but everyone understood the importance of calligraphy not only as means of communication but as an art form in the highest degree – equal to if not surpassing painting. In fact, one form of painting in China is traditionally referred to as "writing nature." Exposure to all things western was a unique advantage growing up in Shanghai in those years. The technological superiority of the west led most of us into a fascination of the west – movies, magazines, fashion, language, food, writings, music and art. I remembered in junior high school, art classes were given once a week for about two hours. We were given a choice of doing western art or traditional Chinese art. I chose western art. Oil was too expensive so we used watercolor instead, which, to me, felt like a natural extension of calligraphy. It was a very superficial orientation to watercolor. In the meantime, with a small circle of classmates, we competed with each other in copying the likeness of movie stars and other subjects in pencil and ink. The skill was further sharpened in life-drawing classes later. It remained a pleasurable and valuable skill in later years.

Any statement by a serious artist can only be the thoughts and ideas expressed at one particular time of his/her long development in art. Look at all the different periods Picasso went through, or the difference between Turner's official paintings and those he did on his own. Observe Goya's court paintings and those wonderful drawings he secretly did of the cruelties of war. Look at Sargent's official portraits and his casual watercolor sketches. Or Homer's long journey from an illustrator to oil paintings and, finally, his marvelous watercolors. One wonders what went through their minds if their thoughts could be written down at various stages for us to muse. I was especially struck by Cezanne's comment who, realizing his imminent death, said, "...damn it, just when I'm beginning to find out about colors!"

This is true of myself. I, too, have begun to find out about colors – a very elusive and mystifying part of painting. It defies any formulas and rejects any systematic analysis. Its emotional impact is immediate and personal. No wonder Monet can paint the exact same subject six or seven different times in different color schemes. If I were to analyze myself, I would say that I paint broadly in the style of contemporary realism and my colors have varied in recent years. I prefer paintings that are unexpectedly well composed and convey a solid drawing – not a copy of a photograph but of imagination and knowledge. I believe there is excellence in every genre of art – representational, abstract, semiabstract, anecdotal, narrative, cause driven and message giving. Each must be judged according to its own criteria, but all still have to deal with the basic principles of art. I enjoy a good abstract painting though it leaves me a bit dissatisfied, for, without the discipline of drawing, I feel unchallenged either in painting one or viewing one. I strive to achieve a sense of force and lightness, of energy and ease, a careful carelessness and a sense of the poetic.