Home, 家, Presented by Subbi

Waipo’s Fruit Bowl

2026

Oil on unstreched cotton canvas

成凤— To Become a Phoenix
2026
Ceramic tile, hand-painted and kiln-fired

成凤— To Become a Phoenix
2026
Ceramic tile, hand-painted and kiln-fired

In Chinese culture, there is a saying, 望女成凤, which speaks of parents’ hopes for their daughters to grow into extraordinary women, to lead successful and prosperous lives.

But what does it mean to become extraordinary? And whose definition of success are we living by?

The two birds perched on the fish bowl represent my sister and me. In Chinese, there is another saying, 展翅高飞 — to spread one’s wings and soar.

The two flowers, still waiting to bloom, represent the tenderness of home. They are cherished, nourished, protected, and perhaps a little fragile. Within the comforts of home, life could be easy. There is little need to venture beyond what is familiar when everything one needs has already been provided.

My grandparents have always encouraged us to pursue whatever makes us happy. More than anything, they wish for us to be happy and safe. Their love is something I carry with me wherever I go.

And yet, the birds choose to leave.

From a young age, they set out in search of something beyond the life imagined for them. They fly toward the ripened peaches, symbols of abundance and prosperity. But the abundance they seek is not necessarily the prosperity their parents had envisioned. It is an abundance of experiences, freedom, purpose, and the possibility of becoming.

I chose to paint this work on a ceramic tile because tiles carry a particular memory of childhood. The floors of my childhood home were tiled, and I never liked wearing shoes indoors. I would run around barefoot, feeling the cool tiles beneath my feet. It is a sensation I still associate with childhood, with belonging, and with the feeling of returning home.

The fish bowl was inspired by one in my grandmother’s home. I altered its original design, allowing memory and imagination to come together, as they often do in my paintings.

Before the piece entered the kiln, the birds were visible. During the firing, they melted into the surface and disappeared.

I find something rather beautiful and poetic about this accident.

The birds had flown through the fire and eventually beyond the picture itself. What began as an image of departure became an actual disappearance. They could no longer be contained within the world I had created for them.

Perhaps becoming a phoenix is not about fulfilling someone else’s idea of greatness. Perhaps it is about having the courage to leave behind what is familiar and comfortable, to discover a life that feels entirely one’s own.

And perhaps home is not always a place we return to, but something we learn to carry within ourselves.