I started drawing as a way to capture my thoughts and experiences — from best friends and breakups to dates, self-care, funny encounters, mental health, and travelling. Each piece holds a small, lived moment. Together, they form a loose, diary-like collection shaped by stillness, and the act of noticing.

Kgari Studio — drawing thoughts — traces back to my visit to Germany, where I saw my great grandmother, Joy, who had just turned 100. Until recently, she was still drawing and writing. Now, as her eyesight fades, staying creative has become more difficult. During my visit, I read to her from her own work — life stories and illustrated poems written across decades.

Most people know her for her large portrait paintings and landscapes, the works that defined her as an artist. But the pieces that stayed with me were quieter: small sketches of fond memories, fleeting encounters, and notes written in the margins of everyday life. Through those marks, I felt closest to her — as if I could step into her thoughts and emotions at that exact moment in time. I think that was the nudge — or maybe the permission — to start.

You might notice the drawings often return to two women in conversation — the kind that drift between the light and the honest, the fleeting and the quietly important. Conversations that feel small as they happen, but somehow stay with you. The late-night thoughts, the questions that circle, the things we say half-jokingly but mean entirely.

These moments began as my own, but they rarely stay that way. People often recognise something of themselves within them — a feeling, a thought, a conversation they’ve had before, or are still having. Because so much of life exists in these passing thoughts.

The ones that quietly narrate our days, that shape how we feel, how we respond, how we move through the world. We tend to hold onto the milestones — the celebrations, the clear markers of progress — but the inner dialogue that fills the space between them is constantly shifting, often unnoticed. And yet, that is where life really settles.

Through drawing, I try to hold onto those moments — just briefly, to give them a place to land. Each piece is created simply, in pen on paper. There is something honest in that — a return to the familiar, like a morning coffee, a conversation with a friend, or a page of a well-loved book.

The process itself has become a kind of quiet meditation. Not something rigid or intimidating, but something gentle — a way of letting the mind slow down by giving it something to rest on.

It’s less about what is created, and more about what is felt — offering a small pause within the pace of everyday life, especially in a city like Hong Kong.