I’m not entirely sure where to begin.
To be honest, this piece isn’t even fully formed yet.
Many parts are still shifting. Maybe it’ll turn out completely different in the end.
But I think I have to start saying something—because if I wait too long, even the thoughts themselves might disappear.
I grew up in Malaysia.
It’s a beautiful country, but also full of contradictions—chaotic, fragile, and often overwhelming.
I’ve lived through governments changing, then changing back. Re-elections, defections, promises made and then unmade.
Uncertainty here isn’t a headline. It’s our daily reality.
And maybe that’s why I create the way I do.
Not necessarily to “make a statement.”
But simply… to record it.
To leave a trace.
To say: we were here, even if only through metaphors, symbols, or a butterfly that seems to say nothing at all.
“Bayang dan Arah” is the first work in my series Wings of Echo.
“Bayang” means shadow. “Arah” means direction.
But neither feels certain to me right now.
I didn’t begin with a clear concept—I just felt the need to move, to respond.
This butterfly has a mechanical body and a porcelain shell.
But where is it going?
I honestly don’t know.
Maybe it won’t fly.
Maybe it will just sit there, still, and watch me instead.
I’m a little afraid to write all of this down.
Because once it’s written, it feels like a commitment.
But I’m even more afraid of saying nothing—and having nothing remain.
One day, someone might ask:
“What was it like back then?”
“What did you feel during those years?”
I hope this painting, even just as a starting point, can be part of that answer.
Even if it’s blurry.
Even if I can’t explain it fully.
In the coming weeks, I’ll slowly share more fragments of this painting.
Maybe I’ll talk about the structure of the butterfly, the hidden text beneath the layers of gloss, or the phrases I hesitated to include and later erased.
I still don’t know where I’m going.
But I know I want to leave a trace of this journey.
Maybe that’s what Bayang dan Arah truly means.
I’m not entirely sure where to begin.
To be honest, this piece isn’t even fully formed yet.
Many parts are still shifting. Maybe it’ll turn out completely different in the end.
But I think I have to start saying something—because if I wait too long, even the thoughts themselves might disappear.
I grew up in Malaysia.
It’s a beautiful country, but also full of contradictions—chaotic, fragile, and often overwhelming.
I’ve lived through governments changing, then changing back. Re-elections, defections, promises made and then unmade.
As a Malaysian artist, my purpose isn’t necessarily to “make a statement.”
But simply… to record it.
To leave a trace.
To say: we were here, even if only through metaphors, symbols, or a butterfly that seems to say nothing at all.
