what happens to a boy that has art in its nature and is nurtured to make art?

printmaking has always been one of my favorite ways to make art. i also really like totoro (i've watched it over 50 times). as an homage to the way ススワタリ took over my mind as a little kid, i took over the walls of an art studio with these little linoleum stamps i made.

your heart stops for a moment as you peel off the paper from the wooden block. you never know how it will come out, whether the text will be inverted, whether the ink will be too thick, whether the paper will be too thin. but when it comes out just right, it's a beautiful thing.

i always tell myself i'm going to start painting again until i completely forget how to lift a brush.

previously, i perceived porcelain as fragile, delicate, and pricy. however, having worked with it from mold to finish, i now find more truth in the words strong, resilient, and beautiful.

some of the best art is found within patience, and gardening is the practice of patience. the secret to always being enchanted is to remind yourself that "you haven't seen nothin' yet" and simply wait.

i wonder when the first planter was made. i wonder who first decided to grow a plant in a pot. not for food, not for medicine, but simply to grow alongside something else.

my favorite animal is the bear. i think the importance of the idol of the bear has been passed down through time to me; from 웅녀, to the bear cults of my prehistoric ancestors. whenever i think more about this 'prehistory', i am taken back to a time when there was true fear, true survival, true respect for the Earth; this is what i see in the lonely bear.

i was born in the year of the horse. that isn't why i built this zebra, but it's a fun fact.

it was an interesting experience, searching all around the world through the internet for the vendors that would sell the exact type and level of treatment (as little as possible) for the stones i needed, but it was really fun making these connections. building with them, however, took a toll on my fingers.

written words preserve how we felt and what we thought about throughout human history. when writing was spread to the masses, the true story of humanity was liberated.

my dream when i was 5 was to become a persimmon tree when i grow up.

do you remember who you're forgetting?

they say the fruits of your labor are the sweetest. but what if the fruit in question is a quince? i've never had a tasty quince.

sometimes, art is pain. and i got reminded of this when i used myself as a canvas. these 7 symbols are very important to me, reminding me that life is a balance of order and chaos, and there is no life without either. write all the books you want, they will be burned. build all the buildings you want, they will crumble. but don't write and don't build anything, did you even live?

nothing truly lasts, but the memory of how i felt when i pulled these out of the oven (and the brie from the aging chamber) will forever be one with the experience that i am: Bhada.