This painting is a self-portrait inspired by Asian selfie culture and the use of shadow blocking techniques. I like trying new methods and styles and for this painting I was focused on the effects of light and shadow using black and white and the many variations between them. The contrast with the dark pink bacground makes the black and white image stand out.

About a week ago I had a dream where I was trying to save this goldfish from dying but all I could do was hold its fragile, slimy wet body in my hands as the water slowly drained through my fingers. It was such a vivid moment of panic, yet I didn’t move. I felt like a vindictive god holding the life of another creature quite literally in my hands. I just stared off into the distance and slowly let it die, and felt irrationally guilty for the rest of the day. Sometimes I feel like my apathy has let some of my friendships die. Sometimes circumstances drive us apart, and I don’t make the effort to reach back out. It’s not a good feeling, it’s a heavy guilt, but it’s alright. I miss them, but I’ll be okay and I know they will too.

The painting is inspired by jobs that take place at night--particularly the entertainment industry. It reveals the different perspectives one may find by observing the public. The drawing portrays a girl who works as an entertainer going home in the day time as office workers go to work. They have such different lifestyles yet cross paths in their daily routines; a glimpse into an alternate life.

Oftentimes, I find myself overwhelmed by life. Like a singular fish ripped from it's school, dragged away by the ocean's currents, my world can seem dizzying and out of my control.

This artwork illustrates the different ways I get ready. As an Indian-American, I feel that I have two different ways of getting ready: my everyday routine for when I'm going to school, and my routine for when I'm going to an Indian cultural event or festival. I have two different wardrobes for the different routines, too. This painting features myself, looking in the mirror, getting ready in my normal way VS. getting ready for an Indian event. This painting portrays the division of my identity that I feel, because of my two cultures often remaining separated in my life.

During the beginning of this year, the Biden administration had approved the Willow Project which is a huge oil drilling project occurring in the National Petroleum Reserve of Alaska. However, a lot of people who were climate advocates disagreed with this venture, as it is dangerous for everyone. We have been well aware that there is a climate crisis occurring, however nothing is being done about it. As an artist I hope that this can raise awareness among people who may not be informed on this issue. As I embarked on this new piece inspired by this social issue, I found myself in a state of uncertainty. I was eager to break away from my usual approach and create something distinct from my previous works. I started off with extensive sketching and brainstorming, mapping out the potential outcomes for my artwork. Yet, the true beauty of art lies in the unpredictability—as I never know how the final piece will unfold. I decided to venture beyond my usual comfort zone and attempt to work with acrylic paints, something I had only previously done once. I was drawn to acrylics for its ability to make this distinctive texture feeling. It took me several weeks to complete this painting, as I would go back to incorporate new elements into it. But in the end, I was extremely proud of what I had created.

I have not been doing art for very long, so naturally, I made mistakes while creating this piece.

Imagine a future where knowledge and the human mind could be preserved forever.

We as a society often put labels on the objects around us as masculine and feminine. More often than not, the colors pink and blue are tied to those labels, too. Inspired by JeongMee Yoon’s The Pink & Blue Project, I decided to make a painting that I felt both addressed and broke these gender stereotypes. To do this, I made a realistic painting of an apron, which represents a stereotypically feminine object. I decided to break the image with several triangles across the canvas to show the importance of breaking of these norms. Keeping the large portion of the apron pink is meant to show the feminine use of aprons. On the other hand, I painted two triangles blue to juxtapose a stereotypically masculine color. The other two triangles, painted purple, are meant to show how objects, like aprons, can be used by any gender since purple is an equal blend of pink and blue.

As a person with multiple food allergies, eating can be overwhelming and discouraging.

During the pandemic, my art studio held all of the classes online, and although I appreciated being able to continue drawing at home, I wasn't able to experience the joy of being at a studio in the process where I could be inspired by those around me. This artwork was my first drawing after being able to go to the studio in person again, and the process of creating it was really memorable to me since I was finally able to connect with my teachers as well as my friends, which was something I felt deprived of while taking classes on Zoom. I started this drawing in early 2022, which was the year of the Tiger in the Chinese zodiac calendar. I enjoyed being able to illustrate my culture through a lively and colorful scene to represent the bravery and playfulness believed to characterize someone who was born in the year of the Tiger. I chose to use watercolors and colored pencils because they have always been my favorite mediums to use for my drawings. To capture the vibrancy of this scene, I first laid down a simple layer of watercolor, adding in shading and blending here and there, and then I went in with colored pencils to clean it up and define all of my details. Not only did I improve by skills in using these mediums, but I also felt the community and spirit of being back in the studio again, which is represented through this animated scene.

This painting was based off of my experiences in Iceland where I saw the northern lights dancing above the capital, Reykjavik. The style of this painting is quite mixed, and contrasts between a smooth realism to paint the northern lights in the sky and a textured impressionist style to highlight the city lights below. This contrast also reflects the meaning of the title, Flux and Flow. Mother Nature provides the light show made by nature, or the flow; humanity shares in this beauty by providing the architecture and lights, or the flux. This painting represents the often forgotten harmony of mankind and Earth and the beauty of accepting both sides.

This painting describes a state of transformation, the journey to something more beautiful through the complexities of change. While transitions are often portrayed as seamless, the reality is that they can lead to either a refined version- or a flawed version of its past. For this piece, the grayscale bust of a girl represents one's old self, with a stark black layer to separate it from the colored version, signifying moments of challenges or uncertainty. But ultimately, the darkness paves the way for the uppermost layer, one of color to depict a rejuvenated individual. However, this transition is not flawless; rather remnants of the old self linger behind, illustrated through cracks that crawl through the newfound perfected state. I chose to use gouache for this art piece because I wanted to convey an air of delicacy. Displaying a more timid subject, the use of dark streaks of paint to contrast with its softer hues emphasizes the narrative of a reviving yet flawed transition.

When translated, my Chinese name (“言安”), Yan-An, means “speaking words of peace". As we are witnessing more conflict and turmoil, both here and abroad, I do wonder about my future and what my role will be in a world struggling to find peace. The artwork, entitled “Finding My Voice”, is a drawing using a single ballpoint pen with varying degrees of pressure on sketchbook paper. The first character of my name is boldly featured in the maze of blue ink. This piece is a representation of my journey to discover my true purpose in the hopes of living up to the name given to me by my grandmother.

This artwork represents the "final destination" that cars reach towards the end of their lives. Its symbolic in the sense that several cars, of varying condition and class will eventually wind up in the same place to be dismantled. This highlights the appreciation of life, as the only thing guaranteed in this world is death, which underscores the importance of having experiences and living life to the fullest. I wanted to include intense values in this charcoal piece by giving some extremely dark shadow shapes. With dynamic transitions and contrast, I attempted to make the piece very appealing to look at, not only with detail, but also lighting, intensifying the piece in a positive way. The focal point houses most of the detail, while the edges of the piece show calmer contrast and a bit of lost detail to imitate the way our eyes/brain perceive the world around us. I began by finding various references of junk cars, later merging them into one environment where each of them balance the piece visually. I later added a blurred background to lightly hint at trees, fences, and utility poles, completing the piece.

This piece was reinvented twice over, as was I. In debate, but moreso as an internet citizen, I’ve heard my fair share of mundane discussion. This piece originally represented the state of online speech, where no one listens nor speaks meaningfully– head-shaped mugs: eyeless, unwilling to see; openmouthed, speaking; hollow-eared, unlistening. To carry out my vision, I traveled to Jingdezhen, China, my mom’s hometown, in search of the perfect materials. There, I found the perfect kiln, the perfect glaze, the perfect clay, the perfect tools…I let out a held breath as I closed the kiln’s door, my mugs safely inside. Little did I know, the kiln’s heat would increase slightly too fast. And with one small error, my project literally crumbled overnight. But peering in front of the kiln, searching for a single intact mug, I saw the truth. The bits and pieces of colorful facial parts splattered over each other was stunning, orchestrated chaos. The story behind the cracked clay mouths and broken rims was a testament to what art truly was– not only the result, but the story of creation behind the creation itself. I continue to create for the vivid feeling of liberation in freely splashing bottles of glaze, crumpling a perfect mug, knowing there’s no ugliness to fear because ugliness itself is art. I crave unpredictability. During shipment back to the US, these pieces were lost. I will never see them again, but that’s okay. I’ve learned to covet beauty, and to let it go.

As part of my AP Art Portfolio, I created a graphite portrait of my mother. I referenced a photo taken of my mother and asked her to describe her hair in one word. She said “Fern”

Through my piece, I delve into my losing innocence and immersing into the harsh reality of growing up, overshadowing childhood fantasies. I depict myself in a vibrant princess dress, rich with youthful dreams, in contrast to the uniform industrial buildings, symbolizing the end of fairy tale illusions and the onset of industrialization. The artwork reflects my personal journey from indulging in whimsical realms, into the more complex and less magical reality. The decaying castle represents the disintegration of childhood dreams, juxtaposed with the encroachment of daunting realities of growing up.

I've always been interested in discovering more about Japanese Architecture, especially now that I understand the complexities of Japanese carpentry. I came across an article online on specifics of Japanese residential buildings, and it included a bird's eye view of the structure, a side view of the interiors, and a simple sketch of exteriors. My idea was to take inspiration from the structure with my research to brainstorm a completed, revamped version of a traditional Japanese building. I began by printing out a scaled-up blueprint and constructing the base, in other words, the "Enoshita" of the building. The wooden sticks are cut with precision knives and connected with hot glue. The construction process is of repetition and preciseness. Halfway through construction, the building began taking shape as I worked on separating the interior rooms with thin wooden sticks. I submerged the base of the model with plaster, therefore getting rid of any unevenness of the base. I decided to make a detachtable roof with double-sided tape; the goal was that you could take it off to appreciate the details and complexity of the model or reattach it to showcase the entirety of the building. The finished model had flaws in which some wooden stick measurements were off; in that case, I used sandpaper to sand off some thin wooden sticks poking out of the model.

My work plays a spin on the popular tiktok filter where one's face is morphed into a heart. Rather than the typical distortion, I manipulated the faces to depict the progress of one's relationship. As one moves across the panels the distortion of the girl progressively increases, representing how a typical relationship starts out nice and seemingly perfect yet ends up dysfunctional and disfigured. Ultimately, the viewer is left with a sense of unease as the last panel illustrates the girl warped off the canvas, her face leaving the heart, and thus symbolizing the end of the relationship.