Two things have become a common practice for me. One: after a break from art making, I get back into the practice with some quick portrait sketches. Two: when I’m stumped for ideas, I turn the brush on myself and paint a self-portrait. Back in January, after a string of trips, I followed this pattern. I painted a series of head sketches. One of them was me – live model with a fresh hair cut, why not?
Each time I painted myself, the likeness never feels right, and limited by the using of a mirror, the expression and posture often come out stiff and uninspired. So, did this sketch have the potential to be developed into a real painting? What could I do to make it better and more engaging?
In a more serious attempt, I envisioned a flatter and more stylized approach. I picked warm tones close to my skin color for the background – partly for harmony, partly to pop against my blue hoodie. I used abstract shapes to balance the realistic face. To lean into the flat design, I outlined everything with a Sharpie first, and then filled in the colors, letting some of the black lines show through. The collage-like result is a step up from the sketch. I wanted the face to stay more stylized and almost blend into the fragmented background, but the more I worked on it the more it slid back into a standard realistic portrait. Eventually, I just stopped.
Me, oil on board, 11 x 14 in, Feb. 2025
That got me thinking: Is aesthetic the only thing I could work on? What else could I do to make the painting a bit more meaningful? I recalled a self-portrait I did years ago in a class. The teacher told us to paint ourselves in a different role. I went with a witch – surrounded by classic witchy themes with my own spin: a frog brewing potions and a black cat reading the Malleus Maleficarum (often considered the first major anti-witchcraft document). While the painting was crude in execution, but dreaming it up and piecing it together was a blast.
Me, acrylic on board, 30 x 24i in, April 2020
So why not give it some character? Pick a costume I’d never wear in real life (I’m a muted-hoodie kind of person), or visualize some thoughts I usually keep under wraps? I went for a bolder color and more dynamic palette. I still wanted the face to feel like part of the design, but this time, I let it be drowned by the unsettling shapes, vibrant colors and swirling energy. I kept the ideas of black outlines but used the paint instead of Sharpie this time, allowing more varied and expressive marks. That hint of punk—is it just wild imagination, or a quiet piece of me sneaking out?
Me, oil on canvas board, 12 x 16 in, March 2025
In retrospect, neither of my paintings addressed the likeness or posture issues that bothered me in the first place. In the process of further creation, they became irrelevant. Painting’s at its best when it’s a journey—when it’s messy, exploratory, and forces you to reckon with yourself.
Most of the time when I paint, I listen to audiobooks and podcasts on a variety of topics—philosophy, technology, economics, even geopolitics—the majority of which aren’t art-related. I find music distracting, as if the two art forms are vying for my attention. The eclectic mix of subjects I explore keeps me engaged, and even when I don’t fully grasp the discussion, the thrill of learning something new oddly fuels my creativity and deepens my focus on painting.
That said, I do follow a handful of art podcasts from time to time. My initiation to this experience was The Draftsmen Podcast, hosted by artists and instructors Stan Prokopenko and Marshall Vandruff. They dive into the craft of drawing, painting, and image-making, offering practical advice for aspiring artists—especially those skipping art school—on finding resources, building a self-learning system, and promoting their work. The podcast ran for three seasons before pausing due to the hosts’ busy schedules, but all episodes are still available on YouTube. Even if you don’t listen to the old talks, check out their channel for the episode covers—hilarious parodies of famous paintings featuring the duo. It’s a clever, arty touch.
The Week in Art from The Art Newspaperis my go-to for global art news. It delivers insider insights into exhibitions, museums, and auctions. Sometimes it also covering major copyright lawsuits and policy changes that ripple through the art world—content I’d otherwise overlook. It’s the one podcast I can truly “listen” to without needing visuals.
My favorite and the most relevant is The Undraped Artist, hosted by Jeff Hein, a master realist painter himself. His guests are some of the world’s most accomplished traditional artists—like Jeffrey T. Larson,Michael Klein, Scott Christensen, Alex Venezia, and Mario A. Robinson. Interviews typically begin with the artist’s early days in art, trace their career paths, and explore insights on painting techniques and professional growth. Jeff often examines the guest’s work on air, offering comments and asking questions. For this reason, watching on YouTube—especially during these segments—is ideal, though the audio alone is still rich with inspiration.
A fresh addition to my list is Idiosyncratic Nightmare, where hosts Michael Klein and Stephen Bauman—both highly accomplished realist artists—interview a guest while creating their portrait. In the first two episodes, Bauman sketches with graphite, and Klein paints in oil. It’s like watching two master demos unfold simultaneously, paired with a thoughtful conversation. The candid interview with Tania Rivilis taps into the struggles almost all artists experienced. It is a comfort and encouragement at the same time. This one’s a must-watch on YouTube, and do stay till the end of each episode where the duo speed painting their portrait to a more finished stage. I’m rooting for this podcast to take off.
Finally, there’s Talk Art, recommended by my pal Grok3. Hosted by actor Russell Tovey and gallerist Robert Diament, it’s possibly the longest-running art podcast around, now in its 24th season. I haven’t tuned in yet, but I’m excited to explore its extensive interviews with artists of various caliber—also not just realists, but a broader mix of voices from the art scene. With so many back episodes, it’s a goldmine for anyone needing something to listen to while painting.
Share your favorite and happy listening—and watching!
Between trips and holidays, I only managed a few small paintings, and here they are:
Turtle, oil on canvas, 12 x 16 in, Fall 2024Bottle and Cups, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, Fall 2024Tea Time, oil on canvas board, 9 x 12, November 2024Peaches, oil on paper, 9 x 12, Fall 2024
The turtle one shows my natural noisiness. I have doubts about the subjects all the way: I believe the arrangement works compositionally, but is it too manipulated? I also know I was sloppy with the flowers. Overall, however, there’s a delightful tone from the piece that makes me like it. I guess that’s my Happy Holidays!
With the bottle and the teapot ones, I was really going for a sense of tranquility and harmony. I hope I am at least close. The peaches one is about texture. I wanted to capture that fuzzy and velvety glow of both the fruit and the plastic bag. Did I?
I have given up on washing my brushes with soap for a couple of years. Each time after painting, I clean my brushes with Gamsol, wipe them dry with a paper towel, dip them in a mixture of safflower oil and clover oil (98:2), and lie them flat in a tray with a cover. The recipe is from Draw Mix Paint. Ever since I adopted this method, I haven’t destroyed any brush yet. Since my last trip was a long one, before I left, I covered my brushes with the mixture, put them in a sealed palette box, and store the whole thing in the refrigerator. Two and a half months later, they are fresh and ready to go. Yay!
[Note: The title is a quote from Spanish sculptor Francisco Baron’s preface to Car Li’s 1992 solo show in Spain.]
During my recent trip to China, I visited many exhibitions, and the works of one artist appeared in multiple shows, leaving a strong impression on me. He is Cao Li 曹力 (1954-), a professor of the Mural Department at the Central Academy of Fine Arts 中央美术学院. Cao Li has received traditional art training but does not carry the baggage of the academic style; in his work, he is unrestricted, and his imagination and artistic inspiration traverse ancient and modern, East and West. His themes range from reality to dreams, and his media include line drawing, watercolor, oil painting, wood carving, stone relief, etc.. His ability to move freely across different media reminds me of James Jean, though in terms of artistic expression, Cao Li is more mature and unrestrained. His works exhibit the absurdity of Dali, the seclusion of Klee, the alienating humor of Klimt, the multidimensional thinking of Picasso, the simplicity and innocence of Matisse, and the romantic imagination of Chagall. They also draw inspiration from traditional Chinese paintings, especially the murals of Dunhuang 敦煌, Yongle 永乐 Palace, and certain cave sculptures.
Cao Li, Hmong Girls, mixed media on cardboard, 25 x 25 cm, 2023Cao Li, oil on canvas, 2023Cao Li, Stroll, watercolor on paper, 25 x 38cm, 1981Cao Li, A Glimpse of the Small Town, oil on canvas, 90 x 90 cm, 1989Cao Li, Sketch No. 3, mixed media on paper, 22 x 17 cm, 1998
In the artist’s own words, “Art knows no boundaries; it is the product of the soul, an expression of true feelings, the natural flow of life, a free flight. Nature itself is not art; only what flows through the filter of an artist’s soul can be called ‘art.’ It’s like the process of making wine: grains and grapes themselves do not intoxicate, but after brewing, impurities are removed, leaving the essence that can captivate and enchant people.”
Cao Li, Violinist with Wings, mixed media, 40 x 40cm, 2014Cao Li, oil on canvas, 2023Cao Li, String Ensemble, oil on canvas, 120 x 100cm, 2023
Cao Li enjoys music, a recurring theme in his paintings. His lines, compositions, and colors move like melodies, possessing a lively rhythm. Influenced by his line drawings, his oil paintings almost always start with a planar structure of lines as the initial outline and main framework. He then enriches, thickens, and adds depth to the work through the organic organization of colors. He says, “I control the blocks of color, dots of color, color areas, and lines in the same way a composer arranges notes, tones, rhythms, and tempo. Once these ‘force points’ are placed in the right spots and combined in myriad ways, the disrupted calm space is reordered.”
Cao Li, Under the Papaya Tree Sketch, ink on paper, 25 x 21cm, 1989Cao Li, Under the Papaya Tree, oil on canvas, 80 x 90 cm, 1990Cao Li, The Circus, ink on paper, 44.5 x 32 cm, 2003Cao Li, Three Approaches, ink on paper, 54 x 32cm, 2003
One aspect that interests me when viewing works by Chinese artists is their effort to blend traditional Chinese art with Western painting. The design of figures and the use of color in Cao Li’s works have a distinctly national character. His ink paintings even introduce modernist traditions. His teacher, the renowned artist Yuan Yunsheng 袁运生 (1937-), has taken this fusion even further by applying Abstract Expressionism to ink painting. In the 798 Art District in Beijing, I was fortunate enough to see an exhibition of his works.
Yuan Yunsheng, Song of Mind No. 2, oil on canvas, 102 x 100 cm, 1980Yuan Yunsheng, Pervade, ink on paper, 179 x 285 cm, 1990Yuan Yunsheng, Christina II, ink on paper, 105 x 101 cm, 1991Yuan Yunsheng, Spring Outing, oil on canvas, 240 x 560 cm, 2018
While visiting the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute 四川美术学院, I had the chance to view the “Chinese Painting MFA Invitational Exhibition 2000-2020.” These young artists originally studied Chinese painting, but now their works clearly show influences from oil painting, printmaking, and other art forms. Their use of media has also moved far beyond traditional paper and ink. They draw inspiration from the collision of diverse cultures, creating works that are more personal and profound. Unfortunately most of the artworks on display have glass cover, and makes it very difficult to photograph. I only captured a tiny portion of the treasures on display.
Wang Mayan, Experiment in the Cloud, colors on silk, 53 x 29 cm, 2023Ma Yuanyuan, Silk Road Fantasies, heavy color on paper, 240 x 235 cm, 2023Wei Jiujie, No Man’s Land, colors on silk, 37 x 50 cm each, 2019Ma Yuanyuan, Colorful World No. 2, mixed media, 200 x 200 cm, 2019Zha Lijun, 2018-2020, ink on paper, 388 x 182 cm, 2021
Here are some paintings from one of my favorite artists from the show:
Qi Zhiyue, A Seat at the Table, heavy colors on paper, 68 x 136cm, 2021Qi Zhiyue, A ‘Ye’ for Life, heavy colors on paper, 115 x 95cm, 2019Qi Zhiyue, Ka Ka Ka, heavy colors on paper, 110 x 110cm, 2020Qi Zhiyue, Topic, heavy colors on paper, 68 x 136cm, 2020
Amid all the talking about the “lying flat” culture in China, it is quite exciting to see the art scene there is lively and flourishing.
P.S. Unlike in America, most of the Chinese artists don’t maintain personal websites. Artron 雅昌 is platform where many artists post their works, but the level of accuracy and maintenance vary. You can find more works from Cao Li here: 作品
Nothing spooky here, just an old pumpkin! I can’t recall when I did this, maybe 10 years ago, when I could still feel the “water” in watercolor. Time flies!
Pumpkin, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, 2015
In the past, when I travelled, even with those lengthy stays abroad, I didn’t do any art. These past months when I stayed in China, inspired by all the art shows I attended (I will talk about these more in the future), I thought I should have kept things going. Oil being too troublesome, I managed to find watercolor paper and paint. My intention was to do some quick sketches or simple paintings, and these are what I’ve done:
Tea-set, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, Sept. 2024Fruit plate, watercolor on paper, 9 x 12, Oct. 2024
I found myself using watercolor the same way I use oil paint – controlled and layered. Despite their tight look, I didn’t spend that much time on each of these pieces, mainly because I gave up. I could have fine-tuned a lot more details, further emphasized the shadows and highlights, etc., but that was not what I set out to do. I missed the singing and dancing of colors in water.
In a way, the old pumpkin painting was not finished either, and the values probably don’t make sense. However, it was fun, and in my mind, it was what watercolor is supposed to be.
I am not upset though. I haven’t practiced watercolor for a while so a bit lack of touch is fair game. I like my compositions and color choices, and that’s something. Most importantly, I didn’t let the trip completely cut off my art practice, and that’s quite a step forward!
Recently in Beijing, I had the chance to visit Eternal Spiral IV, an exhibition by Taiwanese-American artist James Jean. It was a revelation. Jean began his career working for DC and Marvel, before transitioning fully to fine art in 2008. This exhibition showcases more than 200 pieces spanning over two decades of his creative journey, including paintings, sculptures, animations, installations, and even tapestries—a true multimedia experience.
The exhibition begins with Jean’s sketchbooks and drafts. These aren’t just technical studies; they offer a rare glimpse into his process. His lines are filled with energy, precision, and constant revision. As someone who has always been afraid to sketch freely, seeing how even a master like Jean frequently changes his mind, makes mistakes, and abandons ideas was oddly reassuring. It made me realize that sketching is a form of exploration, a space to make mistakes and grow, not something to shy away from due to fear of imperfection.
From sketches, the exhibition moves into Jean’s paintings, mostly done in acrylic. His style is a fusion of cultural influences that reflects his identity as a “cultural nomad.” He draws from sources as varied as Chinese scroll paintings, Japanese woodblock prints, and Baroque art, blending them seamlessly with contemporary culture and digital techniques. The result is a layered, intricate narrative that feels at once both timeless and modern. His dream-like compositions often depict creatures and plants spilling out of the canvas, creating fantastical worlds where reality and fantasy blur together. These hallucinatory landscapes are vibrant yet tranquil, chaotic yet serene—like stepping into someone else’s dream. He plays with delicate lines and bold colors, using vibrant pinks, blues, oranges, and golds to make his worlds feel alive. “I enjoy making colors vibrate against each other to create sparks in the eye,” Jean said.
BanquetIIPiggiback
The keynote painting of the show was Jean’s newest piece, Chimera, inspired by a visit to the Kaiyuan 开元 Temple in Quanzhou 泉州, Fujian 福建. The temple’s “Kirin Wall” and the tangled banyan roots influenced the composition, which also weaves in Jean’s personal family history. His ancestors were from Fujian, but much of that history was lost when his grandparents moved to Taiwan. In Chimera, the roots reach out, searching for something to grasp, much like Jean’s own search for his heritage. Quanzhou happened to be my ancestral home too, and I have visited Kaiyuan Temple as a child. To some extent, I resonate with the tension between the desire to search for one’s root and the acute sense of disconnection. Jean has talked about the creation of this painting on his Instagram.
Chimera as the poster of Eternal Spiral IV
One particularly unique aspect of this exhibition is how it integrates social media. Jean, who has over a million followers on platforms like Instagram and Xiaohongshu 小红书, included 11 time-lapse videos of his creative process. I’d never seen social media incorporated into a gallery setting like this before, and it added an intriguing link between the fantasy world create by the artist and the mundane modern life.
The show includes prints of Jean’s series “Seven Phases,” a collection of 7 paintings representing each member of the beloved K-pop group BTS in the “spirits of flowers”. There are also prints of posters he designed for films like Everything Everywhere All at Once and The Shape of Water. Guillermo del Toro personally asked him to create the poster for the latter, which he rendered in vivid charcoal. My favorite is his poster for Blade Runner 2049— romantic and surreal. Jean’s ability to move between fine art and pop culture, and across different media, speaks to his versatility and boundless creativity.
7 PhasesBlade Runner 2049
A surprise for me was Jean’s love for tapestries. He has engaged with this unconventional medium for a while and his 2024 piece Year of the Dragon made its debut here. It features a dragon—one of the most powerful figures in the Chinese zodiac—woven from a mix of flowers and plants. The dragon symbolizes strength, but Jean reinterprets it in his signature style, making it feel both traditional and personal. This reimagining of cultural symbols is a recurring theme in his work.
Jean’s versatility doesn’t stop with tapestries. His sculptures, some standing over three meters tall, bring characters from his paintings into the physical world. They blend European myths, Asian folklore, and fairy tale elements. Some sculptures are based on the artist’s painting, and shown with large-scale animation, completing the cycle from 2D to 3D to “4D.”
Sunflower (Painting)Sunflower (Sculpture)Sunflower (Animation, please click the image to see the video)
The final room of the exhibition left me in awe. Six massive paintings, each over 10 meters long, sprawling yet detailed, demonstrating Jean’s ability to create on both an epic and intimate scale. Descendants—Blue Wood, inspired by Seoul’s Lotte World Tower and the fairy tale Jack and the Beanstalk. Aviary depicts an imagined world inspired by Chinese folk legends. Monks, bird deities, erhu … many traditional Chinese elements intertwine, emerging from the mind of a sleeping monk enveloped in flames. An enigmatic dreamscape!
Aviary, acrylic on three canvases, 246 x 120”Stampede and PassageStampede (detail), acrylic on four canvases, 432 x 132”, 2019
Eternal Spiral IV is more than just an exhibition of James Jean’s talent; it’s an invitation into his ever-shifting, multi-dimensional world where dreams, myths, and reality collide. It left me in awe and inspired. In Jean’s own words, “ultimately, it’s about having the freedom to create whatever imagery I want.” I believe that freedom comes from his impeccable skill and dedication to art. While Jean’s art has a distinct style, but he has managed to breakthrough with constant searching for both meaning and new ways of expression.
Did I mention that his first NFT “Slingshot” was sold at $469,696.35? I have also picked up my long abandoned sketchbook. 🙂
Slingshot (3m tall statue, part of the “Pantheon” collection in the show)
Charles-Joseph Natoire (1700-1777), a prominent French Rococo painter and draftsman, was celebrated for his decorative paintings, mythological scenes, and religious paintings. Natoire was one of the artists who helped popularize the use of pastels in the 18th century. He often employed delicate pinks, blues, and greens to create a light, airy atmosphere in his works. His paintings are characterized by their pastel hues, delicate brushwork, and a playful charm.
“Head of a Bacchante” (1741) is a fine example of his mastery in pastels. A bacchante, a female follower of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine, fertility, and theatrical performance, is often depicted in art as ecstatic or in states of divine possession. Pastel allows for a softness and blendability not easily achieved with oil paints, making it ideal for capturing the delicate features and expressions of mythological figures.
I saw this painting at the Getty Center, where I was drawn to Natoire’s emphasis on grace, charm, and a certain lightness. The luminous quality of the skin tones, achieved through soft, atmospheric light, created a sense of intimacy and warmth. His fluid, graceful brushwork contributed to the overall elegance, and a well-controlled value range allows smooth transitions between forms.
In attempting a master copy, I focused on replicating the subtle value changes. I have a tendency of using high contrast and high saturation in my own portrait painting. I hope, by compress and control the two, I could achieve a softness and luminous effect that is missing in my works. While oil paint is not as ideal to achieve this goal as pastel, I figured I would still learn a lot by pushing it as far as I could. I started a bit too heavy handed, and later had to spend layer upon layer to lighten things up, and contract the range of values. The result still felt too defined in some places, lacking the ethereal quality of Natoire’s original. Some of the airiness of the original comes from Natoire’s dancing line work, which I don’t have the skill to imitate with a brush. While Natoire captured a goddess, I painted a mortal – a lovely one, I think.
After Natoire, oil on canvas board, 9 x 12 in. August, 2024
Curious about modern interpretations, I requested a pastel painting of a bacchante from both Grok 2 and MidJourney 6.1. Grok gave me a photo-realistic beauty with a somewhat painterly background. It seems Grok doesn’t respond well to traditional medium. MidJourney, on the other hand, at least attempted to emulate ‘a painting.’
GrokMidJourney
One can also twig the many perimeters MidJourney offers to achieve varied result:
MidJourneyMidJourney
If I provide Natoire’s original as a prompt, MidJourney could fake a couple of masterpieces:
There are a couple of still life projects ongoing, and in between, I completed a few portraits using models from East Oaks Studio’s live streaming. Previously I focused on trying to finish the sketch, smaller in size, within 2 to 3 hours, aligning with each streaming session. This time, I used bigger panels, and allowed myself as much time as I wanted. The results are more rendered and complete-looking pieces:
Evee, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024Tina, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024Kailey, oil on canvas panel, 14 x 18 in, July 2024
A few notes:
I call these “filler projects” because they were not part of my summer plan. However, I find that while waiting for a layer to dry, or stalling at certain stages of the painting, doing something different alleviates my anxiety. It’s so much better than idling around not achieving anything!
I neither went for close likeness nor the exotic look in my previous Schiele-ish attempt. However, I do feel that Schiele exercise has left its mark.
For me, the greatest gain from these paintings is that I have started to consolidate my method. In each case, I started with a Zorn palette, and added to it as I went on.
Feeling a bit lost with my portrait practice recently, I ventured to try something new. I was attracted to the works of the Austrian Expressionist, Egon Schiele (1890 -1918) by his unique use of colors and lines, and his focus on conveying strong emotions. After indulging myself with his art for a while, I have a desire to break from likeness and accuracy and focus on a feeling, a mood, or an air. Hence the following:
Monica, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024Still Monica, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024Annie, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, May 2024
A few notes:
These are not done as studies of Schiele. I personally don’t think his style is replicable.
I tried to manipulate the mood with different color schemes.
I deviated from the reference a lot, with invented or exaggerated expressions.
As always, I found my shaky mastery of anatomy and the lack of understanding of the light effects the biggest barriers to go further in creation.
I am not sure where I go with this: it is fun to do something different, but it is also a painful reminder that I need to practice the basics more.
But again, did I say it is fun? So at least once in a while …
Moderate still life endeavors on various surfaces:
Wooden Cup, oil on canvas board, 11 x 14, Spring 2024Oil and Orange, oil on MDF board, 9 x 14, Spring 2024Quail Eggs and Shells, oil on aluminum board, 9 x 12, Spring 2024
Two things I am struggling with: 1. Sunken-in: it is the appearance of a dull matte area in a section of an oil painting, usually caused by overly absorbent grounds, too much solvent, or earthy pigments. In my case, it is the umber and the black. I tried oiling out – apply one part Gamsol + one part Galkyd to the dull area. It helps for a while, but overtime, it might go back a little. Varnishing is supposed to be another way to improve, but so far I find that even less helpful. The process is demanding of patience too, for you need to wait till the paints touch dry to apply the rescue, and then wait for the rescue to dry to see if it actually works. 2. Taking a decent photo. I assume it would be better if the I wait long enough for the paints to be drier, and somehow there’s no sunken-in – the shine is even. Or, invest in a better than iPhone camera? 😳