Part 10: Art as a Form of Self-Reconstruction

Integration & Returning to the Self

1 — Do you feel that art has changed the way you see yourself?

Yes—art has absolutely changed the way I see myself, and also the way I understand the world.

I'm very grateful that I completed my undergraduate studies at an art school. There, I encountered different media, different methods of making, and learned to observe things from historical, social, and personal perspectives. Art education encourages us to pay attention to society while also tending to our inner world—as artists, we must stay sensitive to the external world, while also caring for our inner voice.

Even now, when I do research or work in business, the thinking that art cultivated in me still influences me profoundly. It taught me to stay grounded in reality—without being limited by it.

Art’s greatest gift to me is this: it taught me to live more seriously, to experience more deeply, and to believe that I can do anything I want to do. In art-making, we often have to create something out of nothing, overcoming constraints and limitations. An artist may have only limited materials, yet still create something powerful.

This spirit inspires my life as well—keep trying, keep experimenting, keep the flame of vitality and creativity alive. Art taught me that a life full of energy must be full of courage and exploration.

2 — How do you now define “becoming an artist”?

I believe that as long as you want to be an artist, you can be an artist. In fact, I encourage everyone to say openly, “I am an artist.”

To be honest, even today I still feel a little shy saying that about myself. But the difference between wanting to be and already being an artist is actually just one step:
thinking and acting like an artist.

Once you place yourself in that identity, you naturally begin to ask:
What would an artist do?
How should I create?
Then you begin holding yourself to those standards and actually doing the work.

So yes—I encourage everyone to confidently say:
“I am an artist.”

3 — How do you integrate the rational and emotional parts of yourself?

To be frank, I often hear people talk about left-brain vs. right-brain or rational vs. emotional, but I think those distinctions are inaccurate. Tech people are not purely rational, and artists are not purely emotional—these qualities exist on a spectrum, and we lean toward different points depending on the situation.

For example, I’m very emotional when dealing with relationships, but very rational when making investment decisions. I’m guided by emotion when creating or reading, but I switch to rational thinking when managing finances or planning execution.

So instead of asking how to combine rationality and emotion, I think the truth is:
they were never separate to begin with.

They’re like different states of water—we shift between them fluidly depending on what life asks of us.

4 — How do you view “failure” or “uncertainty”?

First of all, I think failure is a good thing. “Failure is the mother of success”—and I believe our culture should encourage more attempts, more experiments, even more failures. Because only when you take action and try repeatedly do you encounter failure at all. Some people never fail simply because they always choose the safest, most predictable path—yet that means losing opportunities to break through.

Trying bravely and risking failure can be embarrassing, but isn’t that also a wonderful chance to train ourselves and let go of ego?

As for uncertainty—I think there is no such thing as absolute certainty. The only certainty is our inner conviction. When the world is changing—society, technology, creative mediums, AI—can we hold on to a personal philosophy, a grounding framework, that keeps us steady?

In painting, I fail all the time. Some people plan everything carefully; I often start with references but then follow my feelings and take risks. Sometimes I boldly paint a huge area of red—and instantly think, “Oh no, I ruined this painting.”
But I don’t stop. I keep trying:
What if I add a stroke here?
Adjust something there?

Some of my favorite works were created precisely in those “born from disaster” moments—right when I thought the painting was ruined and was about to discard it. It always feels like solving a problem, a negotiation with myself.

So I believe we must dare to ruin things, dare to make mistakes, dare to create failed works. Only then can we create better ones.

Just like watercolor—an uncertain medium. When you splash water, pigment spreads unpredictably. But why not befriend that uncertainty? Let it become a surprising encounter, a hidden opportunity.

5 — What does “freedom” mean to you?

To me, freedom is simply the ability to choose:
the ability to choose to do something, or to choose not to do it.

6 — When people ask “What are you doing now?”, how do you answer?

Right now, I am sitting on the 37th floor of the Salesforce Tower WeWork in downtown San Francisco, writing this.

I recently ended an AI startup journey. I am now working on an interview series called Mother of Success, where I talk to founders and creators around me. Since September, I’ve already completed more than thirty episodes.

At the same time, I founded a nonprofit children’s education initiative called Little Moss, dedicated to providing free, high-quality art education for kids. We’ve held five workshops so far and will continue collaborating with more organizations.

I’m also painting again—using lightweight, thin boards. I paint fish, moons, bread; I paint stills inspired by Parajanov; I paint water splashes from Oppenheimer; I paint flower shadows on street corners in summer. Everything feels light, free, and easy.

This is who I am right now—
November 14, 2025.