Recently, my work has been about building the “muscle” for daily painting. I have returned to creating small watercolor pieces in order to paint as many beautiful things in the world as possible. My recent mission is to capture beauty at a glance, often within just 15 minutes.

This kind of practice helps me create watercolor paintings that are clearer, more transparent, and filled with light. As I continue this training, I can feel myself improving. Areas that once felt blocked begin to open naturally. Along with that breakthrough comes a deep sense of fulfillment, and the paintings themselves become softer, brighter, and more effortless.

I focus on the natural brilliance of color itself and try to respect the organic flow and blooming that watercolor creates. When this balance is achieved, watercolor no longer becomes muddy. Acrylic and oil painting each have their own strengths, but watercolor possesses something uniquely beautiful — freedom, the poetry of flowing color, and the space that allows those beautiful accidents to happen.

When transparent layers of color overlap to create new colors, the luminosity becomes extraordinary. Sometimes I wonder if there is any medium that can express light as beautifully as watercolor. This light is not artificially scratched onto the surface with a brush; it is an unexpected gift naturally created by pigment, water, and paper together.

Working with watercolor also reduces the exhaustion of painting. I simply allow the water and pigments to do their work for me. The water continuously creates marbling effects, gently blending colors and settling them softly into the paper. When the pigments are absorbed well, they shine like morning sunlight. Seeing such paintings brings me immense joy.

For now, I want to continue painting the beauty of the world through watercolor. I want to capture as much beauty as I possibly can. I feel excited wondering what kind of art lovers I may meet through this journey. Just as people discovered and cherished my earlier works, I believe there will once again be those who recognize these paintings and welcome them into their spaces.

As artists, we often develop a desire to paint larger works. Large paintings carry a powerful presence. They feel grand, impressive, and somehow more professional. They are also better suited for competitions and exhibitions. In reality, painting these small studies may not directly advance my career in any dramatic way. But my goal this year is simple: to paint as much as possible.
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Without limitation, I want to continue capturing the beauty of the world.

Recently, many of my watercolor paintings have begun as postcard-sized works. Although they are small, I try to capture as much beauty, light, and atmosphere as possible within that limited space. These daily exercises and paintings have become deeply meaningful to me. Some of these cards are later given to friends as birthday or thank-you cards, while others are sold at outdoor art shows. Creating the delicate feeling of watercolor in such a small format is never easy, but it is always joyful. Each tiny painting feels like a miniature world of its own, filled with quiet beauty and peaceful landscapes. That is why I truly love this process.

Life can often feel exhausting and heavy. Recently, our community experienced a frightening situation when a fifth-grade student made threats involving a possible school shooting. Many parents, neighbors, police officers, and school staff were thrown into panic. It even appeared in the news. Whenever I witness events like this, I cannot help but feel heartbroken for children growing up under so much stress and emotional pressure.

For many years, researchers and educators have studied the positive effects of arts education on children and communities. Studies supported by the U.S. Department of Justice and youth development organizations have shown that participation in art programs can reduce aggression, improve emotional regulation, and lower delinquent behavior among at-risk youth. Other long-term studies have also found that children who regularly participate in arts and cultural activities tend to show lower levels of antisocial behavior and stronger social and emotional skills. Art gives young people a healthy way to express themselves, develop confidence, and build meaningful connections with the world around them.

Whenever I read these studies, I am reminded again of the importance of arts education. Children need joyful and creative lives filled with culture, imagination, and beauty. They need opportunities to explore who they are and to become deeply absorbed in something meaningful. I believe this is important not only for children, but also for adults.

There is something incredibly valuable about creating a single painting, feeling a sense of accomplishment, improving little by little each day, and sharing beauty with others. I understand deeply how precious that kind of life can be.
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I feel very grateful that God gave me this artistic gift. Because of that gratitude, I always try to share it through teaching and through art itself. Even these small daily postcard paintings are an extension of that thankfulness. Each tiny card may look simple, but to me, it represents a quiet celebration of beauty, growth, and hope in everyday life.

This recently completed watercolor captures a spring day on the Stony Brook campus. It began with a simple but strong desire I’ve held this year—to paint works that feel brighter, more luminous, and full of gentle radiance.

When winter fades and spring arrives, nature unfolds its colors with quiet confidence. What moved me most was the way the trees seemed to hold light within them. The central tree in this painting is not just a tree—it feels like a living presence embracing the season. Its blossoms burst into soft pinks, scattering into the air like light itself, blending with the sky.

In this piece, I focused less on precise details and more on atmosphere and emotion. Rather than capturing an exact scene, I wanted to express how spring feels—the way light spreads, how colors dissolve and flow into one another. Watercolor, with its natural softness and fluidity, allowed me to follow that intention.

Beneath the tree, a small figure sits quietly on a bench. Perhaps it is a reflection of ourselves—pausing, even briefly, to take in a moment of beauty. In the midst of busy days, these quiet pauses become something lasting.

This year, I hope to continue painting scenes like this—brighter, warmer, and filled with light. Paintings that allow us to set aside the weight of reality for a moment and simply rest within color and light.
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I hope this piece brings a small sense of spring to you as well.

When teaching art, there are moments that go beyond technique or skill. The most meaningful moments happen when children begin to interpret the world in their own unique way. Today, I would like to share two very different yet equally thoughtful works by Wesley and Albert.

First, Wesley’s piece.

Wesley explored the theme of peace through a mixed-media acrylic work. Using cut paper plates, he constructed large, expressive wings and attached them to the canvas to form a bird. This approach moves beyond flat painting into a more sculptural way of thinking.

Against the deep blue background, the white bird stands out clearly, almost glowing. Around it, we see simple yet meaningful symbols of peace and childlike markings that feel honest and spontaneous. The form may not be perfectly refined, but that is exactly where the strength of the piece lies. The wide-open wings naturally convey a sense of hope, freedom, and uplift.

Next, Albert’s painting.

Albert created a landscape where the ocean and a distant city coexist. The warm orange sky contrasts beautifully with the calm blue water, creating a strong sense of atmosphere and depth.

In the foreground, dolphins and whales move through the water with energy and life. In the distance, the city skyline appears almost dreamlike, as if it belongs to an imagined future. The way Albert handled the movement of water and reflections shows a thoughtful use of acrylic paint.

What is especially compelling in this piece is the coexistence of nature and human presence. The free movement of marine life contrasts gently with the structured forms of the city, creating a quiet but meaningful dialogue within the painting.

Although these two works began from very different ideas, they share something essential: a sincere and warm perspective on the world. One speaks about peace, the other about nature and environment. Each student chose their own way to express these ideas, resulting in deeply personal works.

Children’s art is not about finding the “right answer.” It is about asking questions and exploring possibilities. Within these small canvases, we can see thoughts and emotions that are often overlooked.
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I look forward to seeing how these young artists continue to grow and express their vision in the future.

I still remember the initial shock and excitement I felt when I first used ChatGPT. It has since become a vital tool that helps me manage my time with incredible efficiency. However, when AI first entered the scene—showcasing its ability to generate stunning images—my reaction wasn't entirely welcoming. I believe many shared this sentiment.

The Artist’s Struggle with Automation

As a creator, I found myself rapidly losing interest in digital art. It was disheartening to see AI instantaneously produce high-quality images that surpassed works humans spent years mastering techniques to create. For those in the digital art industry, the fear is real. I sincerely hope these tools remain instruments that make life more convenient, rather than weapons that devalue human labor and displace jobs.

Yet, the world is changing at a breakneck pace. There is no denying the convenience AI brings. We are approaching a day when everything made by human hands might be labeled "imperfect" or "inefficient." As an artist, this reality forces me to reflect deeply on how I should approach my work in the future.

AI as a Personal Assistant

Despite the existential questions it raises, AI excels at resolving life's friction points. It is exceptional at drafting, summarizing, and organizing documents. In a business context, receiving help to write formal documents and clarify communication is a massive advantage. I also use it to identify scams, manage budgets, and plan projects.

When I’m overwhelmed, AI helps me simplify my thoughts and provides clear solutions. Because of this value, I transitioned from the free version to a paid subscription. Using the paid version feels like having a dedicated professional secretary; while the free version is a great trial, the "sincerity" and depth of the paid service are much more apparent.

Gemini vs. ChatGPT: A Friendly Comparison

Through my experience, I’ve noticed distinct differences between Gemini and ChatGPT. To me, Gemini feels much more approachable. If ChatGPT is like a formal receptionist in a towering corporate building, Gemini is like a kind neighbor or a friend who answers your questions with genuine care.

While ChatGPT can sometimes be overly wordy—requiring me to frequently ask it to be "short and clear"—Gemini tends to provide exactly what is needed, which significantly reduces mental fatigue. Furthermore, I've found Gemini’s error rate to be lower. ChatGPT often changes its stance or information mid-conversation, making it difficult to trust completely.

Why the Creative Spark Remains Human

Ultimately, these AI tools are mere supporters. The key is to choose the one that fits your taste and use it wisely. As an artist, I do not believe AI will replace me anytime soon. After using these tools for a long time, I began to feel a certain "boredom" with their output.

"True creation knows no boredom. It is fresh, exciting, different, and rhythmic every single day."
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I don’t believe AI can replicate that joyful, creative energy day after day. In fact, as AI-generated images become more common, I suspect there will be a growing preference for art that is "home-cooked," warm, new, and deep—the kind of beauty that only a human spirit can manifest.

​When encountering the works of David Hockney, the concept of "landscape"—as we have long understood it—begins to subtly waver. While familiar subjects such as trees, paths, and forests remain intact, the colors, rhythms, and spatial dimensions contained within them resonate with us in an entirely different manner. Rather than merely reproducing nature exactly as it appears, Hockney reconstructs it through the lens of his own sensations and perspective. Consequently, his forests appear more vivid and warmer than reality, at times unfolding like a dreamscape.

Hockney’s works often evoke comparisons to those of Van Gogh. While they share similarities in their intense use of color and deep affection for nature, Hockney’s canvases possess a far simpler and more lucid structure. Trees repeat like patterns, while paths cut across the composition, generating a distinct rhythm. This compositional approach transcends the creation of mere aesthetically pleasing images; instead, it compels us to reconsider the very way in which we perceive space.

Furthermore, Hockney does not confine himself to traditional painting; he actively embraces digital media, such as iPad drawing. By observing nature—swiftly capturing the light and atmosphere of a fleeting moment—he is forging a new genre of landscape art for the modern era. Ultimately, his body of work leads to a single, overarching question: Are we truly seeing the world as it is? Hockney’s paintings quietly pose this inquiry, prompting us to rediscover the beauty that we may have overlooked amidst the familiarity of our daily lives.

​Thus, we find ourselves confronted with this question: In an era where technology is becoming increasingly sophisticated—and where artificial intelligence can generate images faster and more flawlessly than ever before—does human painting still hold any significance?

David Hockney’s work offers a clear direction in response to this inquiry. Even at the age of eighty-plus, he embraced a new tool—the iPad—and fundamentally transformed a significant portion of his artistic practice. While the tools may have changed, his perspective and the questions he asks remain unaltered. The forests and paths he depicts are not merely simple images; rather, they are the layered accumulation of the time, atmosphere, and lived experiences he perceived in that very moment.

In fact, from a purely technical standpoint, his paintings could conceivably be replicated by artificial intelligence—perhaps even rendered with greater precision. However, the true distinction lies not in the result, but in the process. While artificial intelligence *generates* images based on vast datasets, humans *experience* images through the lens of their own lives and express them based on those lived experiences.

This is precisely what makes Hockney’s paintings so extraordinary. He does not merely replicate nature; instead, he poses the question—"What am I seeing right now?"—every single day, and unravels his answer through his art. This inquiry is not a one-time event; rather, it resembles a form of daily meditation—a question that is renewed and repeated anew each day.

Artificial intelligence can produce images that closely approximate the "correct" answer, yet it cannot formulate questions of its own accord. Human painting, conversely—however imperfect it may be—contains within it questions, traces of the artist, and the living passage of time. Consequently, we find ourselves resonating more deeply with a painting not because of how "well" it was executed, but because of *what* the artist observed and *how* they felt.

Ultimately, the enduring significance of human painting stems not from its technical perfection, but from the perspective and questions embedded within it. And it is precisely for this reason that we continue to pause before human paintings—to gaze upon them, and to reflect.