​I recently began reading a book titled Übermensch, a modern interpretation of Nietzsche’s idea of the human being who continuously transcends oneself. Although I have only reached the early chapters, I already feel a strong pull from the book’s central message. In simple terms, the book explores what it means to create your own life, rather than simply inheriting one that others expect. It explains that the Übermensch is not a superior being in the traditional sense, but an individual who steadily surpasses their former self. It describes how easily we surrender our lives to the expectations of society and the judgment of others, and how such a life silently drains one’s spirit. True freedom, the author insists, comes only when we act according to our own values, not the approval of the outside world. The book emphasizes that suffering and difficulty are not burdens to escape but raw materials for strength. It reminds us that every person is born with a seed of possibility, and only one’s own will can make it bloom. It states that the path to becoming an Übermensch is not glamorous or dramatic, but quiet, steady, and deeply personal.

Above all, the book invites the reader to confront the question that determines the direction of every life: How will you choose to live?

As I read, I found myself naturally choosing a theme for the coming year: to live according to my own will, not the eyes or expectations of anyone else. For much of my life, I have worked hard, often too hard, to maintain harmony, to be considerate, to avoid causing discomfort, and to be perceived as kind. In that effort, I sometimes made myself smaller, quieter, or overly accommodating. But this book offers me a new conviction—that I have the strength to walk my own path, and that the path I walk must reflect my inner world, not someone else’s desire.

Chapter 7 delivers a line that struck me so deeply I paused reading for several minutes:

“No one will place the ladder for you. You must build your own path. At times that path will seem steep and far away, but with every step you take, you become stronger. Do not fear the challenges. They do not come to destroy you, but to make you stronger.”

These words resonated with experiences from my own life. I, too, have faced difficulties, misunderstandings, conflicts, and emotional waves that made me question myself. For a long time, I believed those hardships existed to shake me and pull me down. But looking back, I see they were the very things that grounded me, clarified my desires, and strengthened my core. Every problem that once made me uncomfortable eventually helped me grow into someone more resilient and self-aware.

This perspective aligns profoundly with the life of an artist. Everyone desires an easy and comfortable path, which is precisely why the artistic path is often avoided or dismissed. The artist’s path is unpredictable, unstructured, unstable, and frequently misunderstood. It does not promise security or recognition, and many people find that frightening. It is not that they dislike art, but that the journey behind creating art looks too difficult.

Yet the moment an artist eventually gains wealth or fame, public perception instantly shifts. Suddenly, the world praises them—calling them talented, brilliant, extraordinary. But the same people rarely ask: What philosophy sustained this artist until they reached this point? What kind of posture did they maintain toward life? What hardships and years of solitude did they endure?
People do not ask because, deep down, they sense the difficulty of such a journey. They prefer to admire the result rather than understand the process. The world is far more interested in the finished painting than the thousands of unseen moments that shaped the artist’s hand.

This is why I recommend Übermensch to anyone who wants not only to create art but to create their own life. The book contains a quiet but powerful wisdom about overcoming life’s challenges. It teaches you not to flee from struggle, not to live by someone else’s standards, not to reduce yourself for the comfort of others. It calls you to surpass yourself, to step into the unknown, and to shape your existence with your own hands.

As I close this year and prepare for the next, I feel grateful that I picked up this small but profound book. It is already helping me untangle the lingering knots of this year and set the direction for the next. I want to live a life shaped not by external approval but by my own clarity. A life built not on expectations but on intention. A life where I no longer shrink myself to fit into someone else’s frame.

The artistic life is not a comfortable one, but it is a life that calls me again and again—so persistently that I know it must be my destiny. And now I understand: these challenges, these moments of friction and discomfort, are not obstacles to fear but stepping-stones to my becoming. They have shaped me before, and they will continue to shape me into someone stronger, freer, and truer to myself.
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So in the coming year, I will no longer wait for someone to lay a ladder at my feet. I will build my own path—step by step, with steady breath and unwavering will. This, I know now, is the beginning of my own journey toward the Übermensch within me.

Last weekend, we celebrated the successful launch of Our Treehouse, the very first book created by Moms Playground. It still feels unreal that this small project, born from many hands and hearts, has grown into a real book—one chosen as part of our local community’s “Local Focus Collection.” Knowing that a book made by mothers will be read by our own children one day, and continue to exist as part of this community, fills me with deep gratitude.

The entire process of bringing this book to life felt like a dream, and seeing that dream materialize into an actual event was incredibly meaningful. The launch was not simply an occasion to introduce a book; it was a moment to honor the first steps that Moms Playground has taken together. I felt especially moved remembering how our group started during the COVID years—masked, distanced, meeting on a playground just to share stories and find support. Those casual conversations turned into regular gatherings, and eventually, into the publication of a book. It reminds me that our dreams were never “just dreams”—they became something real.

During the event, we took commemorative photos with the founding members, enjoyed a quiet coffee break, and spent time in the small display area where the book’s illustrations were exhibited. Standing together with the team who had been part of this from the very beginning, all the memories came back effortlessly. Each person had carved out time from their busy lives to collaborate, and the process itself became something precious and powerful.

A particularly special moment came when Emilia read aloud my recently completed story, Sprout Story. Perhaps books exist precisely for moments like this—to reach someone’s heart, to be spoken again in someone’s voice, and to create new meaning each time they are read. I hope Our Treehouse will continue to find new life in the homes, hands, and hearts of many people, sparking new stories as it travels.
The launch took place in the Emma Clark Library cafeteria, where the illustrations from Our Treehouse were lovingly displayed. Familiar images took on a new presence when set in an exhibition-like space, reminding me that these drawings were never just pictures—they were milestones in a shared journey. I took a quiet moment in front of the artworks, reflecting on the time and love behind them, and I felt clearly how Moms Playground has grown into a true community. The warmth and strength of our group were unmistakable.

It wasn’t a grand or flashy event. Instead, it was the kind of gathering that brings deep peace—a space filled with sincerity and genuine support. In that short hour and a half, we shared coffee, shared our book, shared ideas, and shared pieces of our lives. As mothers, creators, and members of our local community, we were able to show up fully as ourselves. Later, when I looked again at the photos of our founding members standing in front of the displayed illustrations, I saw expressions that said everything—joy in what we accomplished together, comfort in one another’s presence, and hope for what comes next. Those expressions revealed the true meaning of this book.
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In the end, Our Treehouse is not simply a book. It is a “first home” we built together. I hope many more stories will take root around this home, and that the warmth we shared today will be remembered for a long time to come. It was a small beginning—but a day filled with enormous meaning.
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With the Year of the Horse approaching, I found myself naturally drawn to the idea of dedicating my 2026 art calendar to this powerful and elegant animal. For months, I had planned to use my frog paintings as the calendar’s main theme—a body of work I had been developing steadily since early summer. But as I spent more time teaching my students how to draw horses, studying their forms and gestures together, I sensed a shift. The energy and presence of horses began to resonate with me more deeply, and I realized they were a better match for the direction my work was taking. Even though much of the preparation for the initial theme was finished, I decided to make the change.

This calendar project will feature twelve horses, each painted on 9 × 12 cm cold-press watercolor paper. Two paintings are now complete. One depicts a dark horse glowing against a deep, textured background; the other shows a quiet white horse emerging through soft mist and muted light. Both pieces, though different in mood, were created with the intention of capturing the movement, vitality, and grace that define horses.

For this series, I am focusing heavily on the wet-on-wet watercolor technique. The natural diffusion of pigment on damp paper—the unexpected blooms, organic textures, and fluid shapes—beautifully mirrors the essence of a horse in motion. The wind-swept mane, the subtle shifts in muscle beneath the coat, the rippling energy of a body ready to run—all of these can often be expressed more truthfully through the flow of water and pigment than through deliberate, controlled brushwork. When creating the first washes, I try to let go of intention and simply observe how water and color respond to each other. Once the first layer is dry, I build forms slowly with additional layers to refine the structure.

Ten more horses remain. These next pieces will reflect the character of each season. A spring horse will be light, soft, and full of newness. A summer horse will carry strength, brightness, and movement. An autumn horse will have deeper tones and a grounded, contemplative presence. A winter horse will stand quietly in cool, crisp air. Rather than simply adjusting the background to match the seasons, I aim to express how a horse’s mood, texture, and energy might shift with the environment around it. In this way, each painting becomes a translation of nature’s rhythm into equine form.

Today, I submitted my artwork for the annual Dickens Festival Art Show, one of the most anticipated events hosted by the Night Heron Watercolor Artists. Each year, this exhibition marks a meaningful moment for me—a time when months of steady work, quiet focus, and creative reflection finally come together in a place filled with warmth and holiday magic. It is never just about hanging paintings on a wall; it is about becoming part of a tradition that transforms our local community during the month of December. Once again, I am grateful to participate, and this year I will be exhibiting three pieces.

I began preparing for this show back in September. As summer faded into fall, I spent many weeks considering which direction to take, what stories I wanted my paintings to carry, and how the winter atmosphere might complement my style. After much thought, I chose two themes that have long been central to my artistic journey: my signature koi fish series and my interpretations of birch forests. These subjects have accompanied me for years—koi fish representing freedom, movement, and vivid life; birch forests embodying calmness, resilience, and time’s quiet passage. Imagining how these familiar themes could harmonize with the serene beauty of Christmas became an inspiring and rewarding process in itself.

The venue for the Dickens Festival undergoes a remarkable transformation every December. Garlands drape across railings, shimmering snowflakes hang from the ceiling, and rows of Christmas trees stand illuminated by soft lights. During the day, natural sunlight filters through the large windows and gives the space a peaceful glow. By evening, the lights and decorations turn the entire building into something that feels like a winter village. Artworks displayed in this magical setting do not simply hang on the wall—they become part of the holiday scenery. Paintings nestled between the trees and ornaments shine like small jewels, inviting visitors to pause and look closer.

I wanted my work to blend naturally into that atmosphere while still carrying my own creative voice. The koi fish, swimming through deep blue water, add warmth and vitality to the cool winter palette. The birch forest piece, with its gentle pastels and textured strokes, evokes a quiet winter landscape—a moment of stillness that many people associate with the season. Though each piece has a distinct character, together they form a collection that speaks to both movement and calm, energy and reflection. Seeing them placed within the Christmas décor made the themes feel unexpectedly harmonious.

Submitting artwork is always a moment filled with both nervousness and excitement. Each piece holds hours of effort, layers of emotion, and countless decisions—down to the smallest brushstroke. Standing before the works as I dropped them off today, I felt both humble and grateful. When a space is decorated so beautifully, I find myself hoping that my paintings will resonate with someone who walks by, that they will become part of a visitor’s memory of this holiday season. That possibility alone is enough to make the long preparation worthwhile.

This year, the experience feels even more meaningful. As I managed multiple projects over the past months, I promised myself that this show would receive my full attention and care. These paintings became a personal way to close the year—a gift to myself and a doorway to whatever comes next. Knowing that they will spend the month of December in a space transformed by community, tradition, and holiday spirit brings me a quiet sense of fulfillment.
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The Dickens Festival Art Show is more than an exhibition; it is a cherished part of our town’s winter landscape. Visitors come not only for the decorations but also to enjoy the diverse works created by local artists. I am truly honored to be part of that collective expression. As my paintings settle into their places among the Christmas trees and greenery, I hope they bring a moment of beauty to someone’s day and shine gently within the magic of the season. And as I look ahead, I carry the energy of this experience with me, eager for what the next chapter of my creative journey will bring.
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The below post offers a detailed introduction to the three artworks I prepared for this year’s Dickens Festival Exhibition. Each piece reflects themes I have explored throughout the year, including the fluid motion of koi fish and the quiet elegance of winter forests. I describe the inspiration, process, and meaning behind each work, sharing how these paintings came together during months of preparation leading up to the holiday season.

The article also explains how these pieces fit into the festive atmosphere of the Port Jefferson Village Center, where the exhibition transforms the space with Christmas trees, garlands, and sparkling winter decorations. Through this post, readers can learn not only about the paintings themselves but also about the environment in which they are displayed and the emotions and intentions that guided their creation.

https://www.annakoh.com/blog/three-winter-works-for-the-dickens-festival-exhibition

Exhibition Period
November 20 – End of December
(Artwork will be on display throughout the entire holiday season.)

Location
Port Jefferson Village Center, 2nd Floor
101-A East Broadway, Port Jefferson, NY 11777

Admission
Free and open to the public

Map
Visitors can easily find the venue at the Port Jefferson Harbor waterfront.
Google Maps link:

Here we go~

The exhibition will be on view from November 20 through the end of December at the Port Jefferson Village Center, 2nd Floor, a beautiful space overlooking the harbor. During this period, visitors can walk through the building’s holiday decorations, enjoy the Christmas trees, and explore the artwork freely. Admission is completely free, making it a welcoming seasonal destination for families, neighbors, and anyone spending time in the village. The Village Center is conveniently located at 101-A East Broadway, Port Jefferson, NY, and can be easily found on the map here:
https://maps.app.goo.gl/N6FQG7AJjX5vWLBK8

These links are records from my previous participation in the Dickens Festival Art Show. They include the artwork I exhibited that year, along with photos and reflections from the event:​

www.annakoh.com/blog/winter-inspirations-with-a-festive-dickens-exhibit

https://www.annakoh.com/blog/the-winter-art-show-with-the-night-heron-in-port-jefferson-gallery​

My thought

There is no such thing as a meaningless moment, and in the same way, there is no such thing as a meaningless exhibition. Every show, every display, every encounter holds a value that reveals itself in its own time. The Port Jefferson Village Center—where the Dickens Festival exhibition is held—is an especially meaningful place for me. Located right in front of the beautiful Port Jefferson Harbor, the gallery welcomes countless visitors each season, including many travelers who discover the artwork while exploring the village. Its openness and accessibility make it one of the most vibrant cultural spaces in the area.

One of the most charming aspects of exhibiting here is that the visitors take photographs of the displayed artworks and kindly send them to the artists via email. It is a small gesture, but it speaks to their respect for creators and their commitment to celebrating local art. These photographs often become treasured records—snapshots of a particular moment in my artistic journey, preserved before the pieces return home or find new owners.

A memorable experience from a previous year still stays with me. A visitor had taken a photograph of one of my koi fish paintings during the exhibition. Months later, that same person came to see me at an outdoor art show, holding the photo on their phone. They wanted to make sure the painting was mine. The moment they confirmed it, they purchased my work without hesitation. They told me they had kept the image all that time because the painting stayed in their mind, and they hoped to find the artist someday. Encounters like this remind me how art can quietly make its way into someone’s heart long before I ever meet them.

Moments like these are the reason I continue creating with sincerity. When I meet art lovers with such clear and genuine eyes—people who seek out beauty, connection, and meaning—it inspires me to work even harder and to give my best in every brushstroke. My paintings are not just objects; they are opportunities for connection, invitations for someone to pause, feel, and remember.
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As I prepare for this year’s exhibition, I carry that memory with me. I cannot help but wonder what new encounters or unexpected opportunities might unfold. Art has a way of creating its own path, weaving small miracles through ordinary days. With a hopeful and excited heart, I look forward to seeing what stories this December will bring.

For the past few days, I have been recovering from an inflammation-related emergency room visit, followed by an unexpected cold. Regaining my strength has not been easy, so I have been doing only the minimum necessary work and focusing on rest. I want to recover fully so I can return to painting. Paper that I prepared weeks ago is still sitting quietly on my desk. I miss working on postcard-sized watercolors, which brought me so much joy earlier this year and were loved by many people.

I am also grateful to share good news as an artist. My paintings have been selling well in several local galleries, and it feels as though the value of my work is beginning to rise. Since last year, through a personal project, I have felt a gradual shift—like a fog lifting and revealing a clear landscape. I believe that next year my paintings will show another level of depth, clarity, and growth. For now, I need to recharge, and I am trusting this period of rest to prepare me for the work ahead.

One of my greatest joys comes from my students. Many no longer participate in art competitions simply because I recommend them; instead, they take initiative, create strong work on their own, and bring me updates about their achievements. Moments like these make me deeply proud and remind me why teaching is meaningful. At SchoolNova, I see clear improvement in students who take my class for the second year. Their progress reinforces my belief in the impact of steady, thoughtful guidance. As I close out the year, I am thinking about ways to develop more effective teaching methods for the future.

Artistically, I plan to focus heavily on my koi fish series early next year. These paintings feel spontaneous and dynamic, capturing the joy, movement, and brief flashes of beauty that art brings into our lives. The thought of starting new projects excites me, even after a difficult year personally. In the remaining two months of this year, I want to regain my strength and complete the works I have planned. I also need to move forward with my 2025 calendar project, which will require some revisions even though the theme is already set.

All of these plans make my mind feel full, but my first priority is to restore my health. At this moment, my paintings are hanging in every local gallery I work with, and most of them have already sold. Even the storage area where I keep finished pieces is nearly empty. As an artist, this is a situation I once only dreamed about, and I am thankful to everyone who has supported and believed in my work.
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I will continue to do my best. Rest, renewal, and quiet momentum are carrying me forward into the next season of creation.