Sarah's Corner

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Please click the thumbnails below to see the larger views
of some of Sarah's artworks.

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Color is my day, long obsession,  joy and torment.

-Claude Monet


I have drawn since I was kid, mainly because I had no companions for most of my childhood. My parents and my brother migrated to Hong Kong. The government forced one of us to stay in China. Naturally I decided it would be me.

The evenings were tough. My house was only a block away from the cemetery and we had a bamboo garden. The wind sounded like a person crying at night, blowing her weeping tone through the shivering bamboo leaves.

I drew many faces, most Barbie doll faces with huge watery eyes, and stuck them onto my bed curtain. When I felt they were pretty enough, I felt safe.

I had something called serious forgetfulness. I could not remember doing my homework. Going to the classroom was an embarrassment. Usually I was the only one standing up for NOT having done my homework. I tried everything; sometimes I wrote down all the homework assignments on pieces of paper and stuck them on my clothes. But I would still miss one or two. I think they have a better term for that now; probably it is ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder).

But later I didnˇ¦t have to worry about homework anymore. The school found that I was good at drawing and they used me as a free labor. There was no digital technology back then. The way they created their marketing materials was pretty primitive. I drew every brochure, every poster, and every flyer by hand. When the students went back home, I stayed in the classroom and drew.

They said there was a presence in my drawing. I didnˇ¦t  know what that meant.

I had a little sister. (She was actually a cousin in Western culture. But in my culture she was called a sister.) She died when she had just past her first birthday, and just after she learned how to say my name. She fell into a burning ceramic pool ?they were burning some construction ceramic.

When I got to the hospital, I saw a huge crowd of people trying to squeeze into the hospital door. I couldnˇ¦t get in. Suddenly, a chilling breeze flew to me and I heard a high-pitched sound. It was my little sisterˇ¦s scream. A huge part of me disappeared instantly.

I rushed home, and gathered all the names of the gods. I bargained with them. My first bid was to reduce 10 years of my age for having my sister live. My bid kept getting higher and higher and I was about to lose 60 years of my age. Finally around midnight the hospital told us that my sister had died and her organs were donated to the lab. She had swallowed a lot of burning ceramic. Some of her organs were burnt as well.

Something had broken in me eternally.

I was drawn to the unusual, the strange, the hurt, the mad, the insane? I was drawn to them so much that I followed them whenever I could. There was something about them that fed my soul, a soul that couldnˇ¦t stop bleeding. Was it brain damage, nutrient deficiency, or genetic? I didnˇ¦t know. I was just sad. A lot of times, I felt like I couldnˇ¦t breathe. I did have a fantasy about a knife. There was a strange sense of relief within the slim bright light around the delicate sharp edge.

I was awkward. I didnˇ¦t have friends in school. But one day, an Angel dropped from Heaven so unexpectedly.

He entered the classroom in a quiet morning. My ankles felt soft. I wanted to fall. I had never seen something so beautiful. His name was Chun.

Chun had an amazing physical body, incredibly efficient and elegant in a somewhat mysterious way. He won almost all kinds of sports in school. He also had a special genius in mathematics, which was nice as mathematics was never something I was proud of.

I usually just looked at him from a distance. I could not say a word or move.

One day, he paused in his steps and slowly approached me. His face looked stern. I was scared. Was he going to slap me on my face because I stared at him?

Suddenly, something softened his face and he started to blush. He spoke in a sheepish tone: I heard some guys said that you are the most beautiful person and they wanted to see what color your underwear is. Can I accompany you to school? I was not sure what he was talking about. But it felt like Heaven and strangely sexy. I said yes.

After that we went to school together every day. He liked to give me little flowers he picked on the street.

There was something magical about this person. I totally forgot how to be sad when he was around.

After waiting for years, I finally got the news that I was going to Hong Kong to join my family. As much as I was excited about the news, something started to hurt. I worried about Chun. Could an Angel survive in this earthy world?

I collected all the jewelry I had been given by my father, and gave it to Chun. I thought it might worth some money.

He played with the jewelry in his hands. I couldnˇ¦t see his eyes.

Finally he raised his head and said: Please stay PRESENT. All of a sudden, something hurt deeply inside. Yet at the same time, there was a sense of gratitude I couldnˇ¦t describe. He had just taught me something I had always thought incomprehensible.

However, I was still cynical. After college, I threw away about 100 portraits. Carrying too many artworks with me was too troublesome while I was looking for a job, and I was running out of money. Also, I thought it was sort of a ritual, strengthening my determination to find a real job.

However, those paintings and drawings all come back to my dreams to haunt me even now.

I found a graphic design job and have worked as a graphic designer ever since.

Obviously, there is a difference between Art and Design. Art is an organic expression of love. It has to begin in emotion or it is not Art. Design, on the other hand, is a tool to organize our thoughts and ideas. The stronger the subject, the more simplification is needed. Nevertheless, my previous artistic discipline has helped me become a better designer. It helps deepen my sensibility and especially strengthen my illustration skills.

Over the years, I have matured enough to make peace with my own presence, and I find a way to express this inner significance through making Art. Art allows me to develop a sincere acceptance of whatever life has offered, both the tragedy and the joy. There is no prejudice in life that Art canˇ¦t overcome. Art is probably the only thing to make sense of this crazy yet incredibly fragile thing called life.

I have stopped painting for two years now. It allows me to just enjoy the paintings. I know I will give them all away someday. But it won't be to an individual anymore, more likely to a community or a cause.

There were a few evenings when I woke up and touched my paintings with my trembling fingers and cried. Something was holding me. I couldnˇ¦t resist. It was some sort of presence or some might call it grace.

Iˇ¦ve never known there was so much love. My body was too limited to contain it. It was a very powerful sensation. I donˇ¦t think my body can handle it very often.

Within that presence, there is poetic strength, beauty, innocence, intimacy and most of all Grace. It calls for the need of protection, observing, recording and LOVE.
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Sarah's Writings:

A Few Words

Poem: The Song of Freedom

I died on the October 27th of 2006

Sarah's Poems

A Love Story

Healed

Presence

Million Dollar Baby

Love Makes Me Exist

Violence

Movies

A Breath of Paradise

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