In my mind, I can fly, Acrylic on canvas, 2019, Siau-Jiun Lim

Painting as an Act to Open Up

You can study colour theory, master composition, or perfect brush techniques, but real understanding only comes through the act of painting itself. To let that happen, we must be willing to make mistakes, explore unfamiliar territory, and try things that may feel uncomfortable.

Every painting you create is already special in its own way. But to bring clarity and depth to your intuition — to truly feel your way into painting — you must allow yourself to learn through trial and error. It’s like learning to ride a bike: you need to wobble, fall, and take advice along the way. Your dad’s instruction, for instance, comes from his own experience. His words may not fit your understanding perfectly, but they’re a starting point. You take that knowledge, practice, and gradually find your own balance.

When Penny introduced painting on folded paper, it felt awkward to me. At first, I dismissed the method, thinking, what could something so simple teach me? But once I gave it a real try, I found unexpected joy and discovery within the process. I adapted the method and made something that felt uniquely mine for my everyday routine now.

Often, we protect our originality as if it will vanish the moment we adopt someone else’s method. But originality doesn’t come from guarding what we already know — it grows when we’re open to new ideas and transform them through our own hands and experiences. Nothing in this world is completely original except who we are. Every new technique expands our adaptability; it becomes part of our evolving expression.

So, let’s understand this: mistakes, disappointments, and struggles are part of the act of making, and they are what keep our art and ourselves evolving, finding, and balancing our own originality.