I actually found Il Volo’s song “Notte Stellata” through Yuzuru Hanyu’s figure skating exhibition at Pyeongchang. The exhibition itself represents a joining of utter masterpieces–Hanyu’s costume and overall performance are wonderful complements to the quiet but emotional opera-like song, which perfectly evokes its namesake starry night. For those of you who haven’t seen the performance nor heard the song, I encourage you to check it out!


Posted on by Ruisi

An older painting I did in the art style of Zhang Da Qian— watercolor and acrylic

This piece was actually the result of an assignment in my high school art class! We were meant to take direct inspiration from a famous artist, and as I was curious to further explore Chinese watercolor painting (which I tried before at Chinese school), my search led me to the artist Zhang Da Qian. 
I was perhaps slightly ambitious here–the painting itself is approximately 22” x 29.5”, so it took quite some time to add in the detailing. It’s certainly not perfect, but this project has given me the motivation to continue painting larger and more detailed pieces (maybe with oil paint)!

Posted on by Ruisi

Place of Travel

She always meets them in a place of travel, when the mode of expectation is polite quiet and careful small talk. She sits by one in a rollercoaster car–before the ride, he asks her where she comes from, and she laughs and answers in passing. He’s from another city. They share contact information once they exit the ride, once the thrill of shouting a conversation whilst speeding through the night sky above the lights of the amusement park below wears off slightly. He messages her after the fact, and they pass a few texts in exchange. Her responses slow. They met once during an intersection of travel—that’s all it’ll ever be.

When it happens the second time, she wonders what she’s doing to end up in conversations so easily with strangers. She’s on a plane for home–she arrives late in a rush, staggering into her seat with a heated flush across her cheeks. The man who has the seat beside her says hi and introduces himself. Well, she thinks, as least we’re traveling to the same place. The flight is long; they spend time chatting, checking out the media systems on the backs of the seats in front of them, listening to music–this is fun, she thinks. She gazes outside the window as the plane begins to touch down, watching the yellow and orange lights below signal the end of their little interlude. They find each other on social media. He’s years older than her. Later, he sends her a message. She doesn’t respond. Same flight, same destination, but she tells herself it’s asymptotic. A rollercoaster, a plane—she thinks afterwards, I wonder if this means something.