Summer break has officially begun, and once again, we will be creating picture books together.

Every year, this project reminds me why I can never stop doing this work. Watching children grow through the process of creating their own stories is one of the most rewarding experiences. What begins as a simple idea gradually becomes characters, illustrations, and finally a completed book. Along the way, children gain confidence—not only in their artistic skills but also in their ability to think creatively, solve problems, and express their own unique ideas.

One of the most exciting discoveries I've made is how powerful it is to combine science with storytelling and art. When children build their books around scientific topics—such as animals, space, insects, the ocean, plants, weather, or the human body—they naturally become curious. They begin researching, asking thoughtful questions, and transforming what they learn into original stories and illustrations.

This process turns learning into an adventure. Science is no longer just information to memorize; it becomes inspiration for creativity. Art is no longer simply about drawing beautiful pictures; it becomes a meaningful way to communicate ideas and explore the world.

The most rewarding moments come when children say, "I want to learn more about this!" That genuine curiosity is the foundation of lifelong learning.

This summer, each child will create a picture book that reflects not only their imagination but also their knowledge, creativity, and personal growth. Every finished book becomes much more than a project—it becomes a lasting record of a young author's journey.
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I am excited to witness these wonderful stories come to life once again this summe

I do not invest in stocks, and I do not plan to.
Some people may see that as a missed opportunity. They might think I am falling behind because I do not understand investing or wealth building. But for me, it is a conscious decision—a choice about the kind of life I want to live.
To be honest, I do not know much about the stock market, and I believe I am simply not suited for it. It is a world that demands constant analysis, quick decisions, and competition. Success often depends on acting faster than someone else, anticipating the next move before others do. I respect those who have the talent for it, but I know myself well enough to realize that it is not my path.
More importantly, I understand how my own mind works.
The excitement that comes from a sudden financial gain can be intoxicating. One success naturally makes you want another. A single victory can become something you spend years trying to recreate. Before long, your attention is drawn toward one thing, and one thing only.
I want that one thing to be art.
If I ever became successful in the stock market, I fear that charts would slowly replace sketches in my mind. Instead of waking up eager to paint, I might wake up wondering what the market was doing. Instead of thinking about light, color, and storytelling, I would be thinking about numbers, trends, and prices.
Little by little, my imagination would begin to dry up.
The joy I now find in creating art would slowly be replaced by the pursuit of the next gain.
That is why I intentionally try not to become absorbed in financial news.
The world is filled with things that are infinitely more inspiring than a stock chart.
A child's smile.
Sunlight reflecting on wet pavement after the rain.
Leaves dancing in the autumn wind.
The story hidden behind an old face.
The quiet beauty of ordinary mornings.
These are the things that nourish an artist.
If my attention were consumed by charts, however, my conversations would slowly change. I would begin talking about markets instead of ideas, profits instead of people, trends instead of beauty. Eventually, everything would revolve around money.
That is simply not the life I want.
Another reason I choose not to invest is that I have seen people I know suffer because of it.
I have watched friends lose significant amounts of money. I have seen the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the endless hope that the next trade would recover previous losses. Of course, many people invest wisely and responsibly, and I genuinely respect that. This is not a criticism of investing itself.
It is simply an acknowledgment that different people are called to different paths.
Some people are gifted at investing.
Others are gifted at building businesses.
Some devote their lives to science.
Others to teaching.
My calling happens to be art.
That is why I have fallen in love with repetition.
I want to paint today.
I want to paint tomorrow.
I want to paint next year.
And I hope I am still painting decades from now.
Our culture celebrates speed. Everything must happen instantly. Success must come quickly, and excitement must never fade. People become impatient with repetition, constantly searching for something new, something bigger, something faster.
Yet I believe that the most meaningful things in life are built slowly.
Art grows through repetition.
Mastery grows through repetition.
No masterpiece appears overnight. Every great work is the result of thousands of quiet hours that few people ever see.
If everyone chases instant success while rejecting patient craftsmanship, then the disciplines that require lifelong dedication will gradually lose their place in society.
I do not want to contribute to that.
Instead, I want to continue quietly doing my work.
Whether people notice or not is of little importance.
Because I am already rewarded every single day.
My reward is not financial.
It is seeing my drawings improve little by little.
It is discovering a better way to paint light.
Finding a more convincing reflection.
Learning to express emotion through color.
Perhaps the greatest reward of all is watching my students grow.
There is something profoundly moving about seeing a child who once struggled to draw a simple line gradually learn to tell stories through pictures. Witnessing that transformation is worth more to me than any financial return.
Whenever I paint, something inside me becomes quiet.
No matter how noisy or chaotic the world becomes, the moment I begin drawing, everything slows down.
It feels as though I have stepped inside an old cathedral.
Or into a peaceful mountain temple.
Time becomes gentle.
My breathing slows.
My thoughts settle.
I become completely present.
And in that deep concentration, I experience a kind of peace that I do not believe the world can give.
Some people call it meditation.
Others call it flow.
For me, it happens whenever I hold a brush.
As an artist, I naturally hope that more people will spend less time endlessly clicking through screens and more time creating something with their own hands.
I hope they will spend more time looking at the sky than at stock charts.
More time listening to stories than watching prices rise and fall.
More time making something beautiful than chasing the next notification.
Perhaps that is simply the wish of an artist.
I know everyone must choose their own path.
This is mine.
So I will continue quietly.
Like a monk sitting alone in a small mountain hermitage, striking a wooden moktak in peaceful rhythm day after day.
Without applause.
Without urgency.
Simply returning to the work.
I will continue opening the doors to my own artistic world.
I will continue discovering its hidden mysteries.
And perhaps, one day, I will experience a deeper understanding of both art and myself.
I still remember the first time I truly painted light.
I remember the moment when water in a painting suddenly looked as though it was actually flowing.
Those moments changed me.
They were small discoveries, almost accidents.
But countless small discoveries gradually came together until they formed an entire world—a world that belongs to no one else.
It is my own.
That is the reward art has given me.
So every morning, I choose paper instead of charts.
A brush instead of a mouse.
Patience instead of speed.
Growth instead of quick rewards.
Whether the world notices my work or not does not matter.
Because every day, painting gives me something far greater than profit.
It gives me purpose.
It gives me peace.
And it reminds me that the quiet work of creating, repeated faithfully over a lifetime, may be one of the richest ways a person can live.

Summer is finally here, and with it comes the start of a well-deserved break. For many people, summer vacation is a time to rest, but for me, it is also a season of creativity, planning, and new beginnings.

This summer, I hope to spend more time preparing for projects that have been waiting patiently in the background. One of my main goals is to begin serious preparations for an outdoor art show that will open in September. I am also working toward completing a piece for the Imagination competition, which has a deadline in July.

With so many projects ahead, my mind feels busy and full. Yet, the happiest part of the artistic process has always been the same: imagining what to create. There is something magical about sitting with a blank page, exploring ideas, and slowly discovering the stories and images that want to come to life.

Another exciting project awaits in December. The Moms Playground Book Club, founded by mothers who are artists and writers, will be releasing its second book. Over the coming months, we will gather several times to plan, write, edit, and bring this new book into the world. It is a project that is especially meaningful because it combines creativity, collaboration, and friendship.

Although this summer will be full of work, it is the kind of work that fills my heart with joy. Every sketch, meeting, and hour of preparation is a small step toward something meaningful. And when summer comes to an end, I hope to look back and see the results of those efforts blooming like fruit on a tree.

For now, I am simply grateful to be in this stage of dreaming, creating, and growing. Sometimes the most rewarding part of art is not the finished piece, but the journey of bringing it to life.

Wishing everyone a creative, inspiring, and joyful summer.
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I recently framed one of the paintings I created during this year's Wet Paint Festival.

For this event, the host gallery, Gallery North, requires artists to create their artwork on-site. To ensure this, each participant receives an official stamp on the back of their paper before beginning. Only paintings completed on the stamped paper are eligible for submission. I assume this policy was created because some artists may have submitted work completed at home rather than painting directly at the event.

One of the greatest advantages of plein air painting is the opportunity to observe and paint directly from nature—capturing real light, shadows, colors, and atmosphere as they appear in the moment. Of course, completing a painting within a limited time can be challenging.

As a watercolor artist, I felt especially nervous during the event. Watercolor requires careful planning, and mistakes are not always easy to correct.

Nevertheless, I successfully completed three paintings that day. After receiving feedback from visitors, I decided to submit the painting that seemed to resonate most strongly with the audience.
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It was a rewarding experience, and I am grateful to have participated in such a wonderful event.

One of the things I always appreciate about outdoor painting events is meeting kind people who take the time to photograph artists while they work. Thank you again for capturing these moments.

When I am painting, I become completely focused on the process, so it is often difficult for me to document the experience myself. Because of that, I am especially grateful to those who thoughtfully preserve these memories through their photographs.

Your kindness allows artists like me to look back on these special moments and remember the experience long after the event has ended. It is a simple gesture, but it means a great deal.

Moments like these remind me that there are many good and generous people in the world, and I feel fortunate to have met some of them through these events.

Gallery North Wet Paint Festival 2026 – Immersed in NatureThis year, I had the pleasure of participating in Gallery North’s Wet Paint Festival for the third time. Every year, this event becomes one of the highlights of my artistic calendar—not only because of the opportunity to paint outdoors, but because it brings together nature, art, and community in such a meaningful way.
The 2026 festival was held at the beautiful Old Field Farm in Setauket, New York. Surrounded by horse arenas, rolling green landscapes, and stunning water views, it was an inspiring setting for artists. Although the weather was slightly warm, a gentle breeze drifted through the day, making it comfortable and enjoyable to work outside.