Throughout my life as a painter, I’ve encountered all kinds of people drawn to art—those who wish to learn how to paint, those who simply want to look at paintings and share their impressions, those eager to talk deeply about art, and even those, like me, who dream of turning it into a lifelong profession. To have meaningful conversations with these people, I opened a blog and have been posting consistently ever since.

I officially debuted as an artist in 2011. That means it’s been nearly 14 years now—and next year, I will celebrate my 15-year milestone. It’s honestly hard to believe. Looking back, I’m amazed at how far I’ve come. I know for certain that I could never have made it this far alone. It was only possible because I had the privilege of walking this path with others—people whose eyes lit up with a genuine love for art and beauty.

In many ways, the journey has often felt like walking through a long tunnel without knowing when I would see the light. In a world where no one can promise you success, I had to keep walking forward on faith alone. But it never felt tiresome. Why? Because I wasn’t walking alone. Along the way, I met people who cared, who shared, and who encouraged me to keep going. Their presence made all the difference.

Once you pass the ten-year mark as an artist, something subtle but powerful happens. You begin to realize within yourself—without anyone needing to validate you—that you’ve stepped through a doorway. You've moved into a new chapter where your pace, your voice, and your vision become more grounded. That realization is one of the greatest rewards of all, and it's not something that can be measured with awards or external recognition.

Sometimes, of course, I talk about the prizes I’ve received or the experiences I’ve accumulated—perhaps as a way to "prove" my path. But deep down, I know that art exists in a space far more subjective and complex than any single achievement can define. What we do as artists doesn’t quite fit into the boxes the world tries to impose. That’s why I hope we can move toward a world where such proof is no longer necessary.

And when I meet someone who doesn’t need that proof—who simply understands and accepts the work for what it is—I’m filled with gratitude. I treasure the notes they leave behind, the artwork they share, and the sincerity in their eyes. These moments are more than encouragement; they become markers—bright, reassuring signposts—that will guide me in the days to come.
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Especially in times like these, when so much feels uncertain, I believe our art—and the spirit behind it—can offer both comfort and direction. That’s why I continue to paint. That’s why I write and share. And that’s why I remain open to conversation, to collaboration, and to walking beside others on this beautiful, sometimes lonely, but always meaningful journey.

​This hanging scroll is a precious piece that one of my students gave me as a gift.

“眉目舒展 順問冬安 (Mi Mok Seo Jeon Sun Moon Dong An)” — This phrase, which wishes for gentle eyes and peaceful hearts, seems to be in line with the essence of art that I have pursued for a long time. The emotion of receiving this hanging scroll, filled with winter greetings and warm hearts, will remain in my memory for a long time.
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I deeply appreciate her sincere heart, and I hope that we can continue to share art in such a space of affection.

Every summer, I return to one of my favorite creative rituals--daily postcard watercolor painting. Each day, I take a small piece of paper and quickly paint something I’ve been wanting to capture. Sometimes it’s a quiet memory, other times it’s just a flash of color or light that lingers in my mind. No matter what, I follow my instinct—and my brush—wherever it leads.
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There’s something freeing about working small. There’s no pressure, just movement. The goal isn’t perfection—it’s presence. And through this process, I find myself dreaming a little bigger: What if I could paint the whole world this way? One moment, one glimpse, one postcard at a time.

Last year, this simple practice led to a beautiful surprise. My work was featured in an article by Rent.com, where I was included among creatives exploring hobbies at home. (You can see the full article here.)

The recognition was wonderful—but more than that, it reminded me that sometimes the smallest acts of daily creation lead to the most meaningful connections.
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As I begin again this summer, I feel renewed. And grateful.
For the paint, the paper, the quiet minutes—and the hope that in these small cards, the world might quietly unfold.

I love the small routines of my everyday life. What may seem trivial to others is more precious than gold to me. That’s why I’m very cautious about wasting time. I treasure the moments when I can concentrate and create something with my own hands. There is nothing more fulfilling than quietly making something, step by step, with intention and care.

Each day, I return to my small watercolor postcard practice. It excites me every summer—just the thought of doing this fills me with energy. I quickly paint whatever has been lingering in my mind: scenes I've wanted to capture, colors I’ve longed to play with, memories I wish to preserve. With each card, I feel like I’m slowly painting the entire world. That, perhaps, is my secret hope—to one day hold a collection that reflects all I’ve seen, felt, and imagined.

This simple act brings me deep joy. It helps me step away from the noise of the world and return to myself. It is in these quiet, uninterrupted moments that I feel most alive. At first, I only created. I didn’t document anything. I simply made one painting and moved on to the next. But eventually, I began writing down little notes—short reflections, fragments of a story, the emotion behind the image—and something changed. The joy doubled. The act of creating became more meaningful when I began recording and weaving my paintings into a narrative.

I believe that when someone purchases one of my paintings, they are not just buying an image—they are buying a story, a feeling, a piece of time. These stories make the artwork more alive, more personal. That’s why I continue to paint, write, and share.

All of this happens quietly, in a small space. At first, I thought no one would ever see it except me, my family, and a few friends who received my cards on special occasions. But as time went on, I realized that even if this creative journey is mostly invisible to the world, it holds immense value. Just the thought that someone out there might resonate with what I’m doing is enough to keep me going.
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This is my way of living with purpose—cherishing my time, honoring small moments, and building something meaningful from them. And so, I will keep painting, one card at a time, creating tiny worlds filled with stories and light.

We’re thrilled to announce that Our Treehouse is now heading toward publication!
This book is especially meaningful because it marks the very first release from Moms Playground—a creative initiative and supportive community built by and for mothers who are raising children while continuing to grow as artists, writers, and makers.
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Moms Playground believes in the idea that motherhood and creativity are not in conflict—but in harmony, and this book is proof of that spirit.

A Story That Sparked Seventeen Watercolors

To bring this story to life, I painted 17 watercolor illustrations, each one created with care and wonder to reflect the charm, energy, and dreams of childhood.
Working with Emilia Zielinska-Bien on this project has been an incredible gift. Her writing—beautifully structured, clear, and full of heart—made it easy for me to visualize every scene.
Thanks to her rich storytelling, I found myself painting with joy, often finishing scenes faster than I expected simply because her words carried so much vivid imagery.
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Why Treehouses?

For many children, the idea of a treehouse is more than just a structure—it’s a dream.

When kids look up at a big, old tree, they often imagine building something magical within its branches. A secret hideaway, a clubhouse, a place to dream, play, and plan adventures.

But how does that dream become reality?
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In Our Treehouse, readers get to witness that transformation step by step.
This story doesn’t just imagine a treehouse—it builds one.
You’ll follow a group of friends as they come together with a shared vision.
They solve problems, divide responsibilities, and lean on one another’s strengths.
From sketching blueprints to finding materials, from talking with parents to working with tools, the book paints a heartwarming portrait of collaboration, perseverance, and imagination.
What makes the story even more special is how real it feels.
You can almost hear the hammering, feel the breeze in the branches, and see the joy in the children’s faces as the treehouse takes shape.

More Than a Story

Our Treehouse is not only a charming picture book—it’s also an invitation:
An invitation to dream, to work together, and to believe that with creativity and cooperation, even the simplest idea can grow into something truly magical.
We’re so proud to share this book with you--
and even more excited to see where this journey takes us next.

​There is one post that many people have been reading on my blog lately.

It is a guide on **“How to connect a blog feed that automatically updates to your Weebly site”**.

When I first wrote this post, I just wanted to organize the problems I had
and hope that it would help those who were struggling with the same problem.

However, more people than I expected read this post, actually applied it,
and even left thoughtful feedback.

I was especially surprised when I received a message like this:

​Such heartfelt responses were like a gift that blew away the little loneliness I feel every time I write one of my thousands of posts.

And more than anything, a single word like **“That was really helpful”**
gives me a reason to keep writing and sharing.

There are over 1,600 posts on my blog so far.

Of all of them, this post consistently ranks high in Google searches and has a high rate of repeat visits,
making me think again about the meaning of ‘sharing information that is really needed.’

👉 If you haven't seen it yet, you can check out the post in the [Information for Artists] section of my blog! 

I Wanted My Blog to Feel Like a Living PortalWhen I first started my blog, I didn’t want it to be just a static archive of posts.

I envisioned something more dynamic--a small portal-like space, where visitors could instantly see a variety of stories, updates, and resources unfolding right from the main page.

I didn’t want readers to have to dig through menus or click endlessly to find what they needed.

Instead, I dreamed of a home page that felt like an open doorway, lined with colorful windows into different parts of my work and thoughts.
Something that immediately says: “This space is alive. Come in, explore.”

The Power of an Auto-Updating Blog Feed

That’s what led me to explore auto-updating blog feeds—especially within platforms like Weebly, which can be quite limiting when it comes to customization.
I began experimenting, testing different layouts, and searching for a way to make my content feel more present, more immediate, and more accessible.
Eventually, I figured out a method that worked.
And when I shared that step-by-step guide in a blog post,
I didn’t expect it to resonate so widely--
but it did.
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I started receiving messages like:
“This post was super helpful! I’ve been looking for a simple way to add an auto-updating blog feed to my Weebly site, and your step-by-step guide made it so easy to understand. Thanks for sharing—it made a big difference for my website!”
Knowing that something I struggled with and solved is now helping others--
that’s one of the most meaningful parts of this journey.

How Do We Create a Space That Feels Like Ours?

For me, blogging has always been more than just content creation.
It’s a way to share my work, yes,
but also a way to connect—with fellow artists, creatives, and curious minds.
This blog is where I store my process, tell my stories, and open doors for others to do the same.
What began as a small technical tip turned out to be a symbol of something larger--
the desire to shape a creative space that truly reflects who we are.
I’ll continue building this blog as an evolving space--
one where visitors don’t just read, but feel invited in.
A place where information, inspiration, and authenticity meet.
Thank you for walking through that doorway with me.

​Today I received meaningful news.

I was informed that my watercolor painting “Golden Hour on the Tidal Flats” was selected for the Nature’s Palette Exhibit at Mills Pond Gallery. This exhibition is a special place to select and present artworks themed on nature, and this year it was curated by artist Charles Wildbank, who was a judge.

The sun slowly sets over the flat tidal flats after the tide has drained, and the wind turbines that line the landscape like pinwheels cast long silhouettes.
The yellow light flows down the water, and in the distance, the silhouettes of people reflect and sparkle on the shallow water.
I wanted to capture all of this in one scene.

When I painted this piece, I wanted to capture not just the landscape, but the tranquility that nature gives, the harmony that people and the landscape create, and the emotions that are immersed in the flow of time.

To me, this scene is not just a landscape, but also a profound sense of peace and hope at the end of the day.

This exhibition will be held at the Mills Pond Gallery from August 3 to September 8, 2025. If you are nearby, I would appreciate it if you could come see my small landscape along with the works of many nature-loving artists.

​Description:
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In this piece, I tried to capture the quiet stillness of the tidal flats at golden hour.
The scene is anchored by silhouettes of wind turbines rising quietly across the horizon, while the low sun gently lights up the reflective surface of the flats.
Tiny human figures wade through the shallow water, almost becoming part of the land itself.
It is a meditation on balance—between movement and stillness, light and shadow, humanity and nature.