Talking about our last issue, we saw religion and tradition in it, how much do you feel
nowadays is important to let out personality and our ideals become part of our firm, btw
with your story you let us travel to those beautiful places

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Thank you! I was delighted to be part of the issue and appreciate the creative freedom and space you provided. Since I left London I started to focus more on personal work and bring more authentic values to my works. It is my intention to showcase Taipei, my hometown, from a less stereotypical aesthetic.

The connection between what I actually care about and what I'm putting into the world feels non-negotiable now. Fashion operates at this absurd velocity where if you're not actively paying attention to what you're doing and why, suddenly you're making work that could literally be by anyone, for anyone. Then the algorithm situation compounds everything—suddenly you're chasing engagement metrics instead of making anything honest.

I've come to believe that when you make work that feels true (even when it's uncomfortable), you end up connecting with people who get it on that same frequency. There's something powerful about creating genuine moments in an industry that often feels like a perfectly lit, expertly styled house of cards.

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Taking a deep look into your work... what does these phrases mean to you “waves crashing dreams”, “Im dreaming towards you” & “the 30 something”?

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If I had to summarize my 20s with one word, it'd be "escapism"—which is basically the psychological equivalent of hitting the emergency exit button repeatedly. I was profoundly uncomfortable in my own skin and anxious about, well, everything, so making images became this safe alternate universe where I could disappear into something prettier than reality.

Those first two phrases—"waves crashing dreams" and "I'm dreaming towards you"—they're titles from my 20s work, when everything I created had this dreamy, romanticized quality. I was manufacturing these beautiful alternate realities because actual reality felt too jagged to handle directly. Classic twenties move: creating ethereal dreamscapes while quietly having an existential crisis. I was giving full "beautiful doom" energy.

"The 30 something" marks this shift where I stopped emotional skydiving and started building something more sustainable. I'm way more grounded now—like I've finally stopped mistaking drama for depth. My current work isn't wrapped in that dreamy filter anymore, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure what the new vibe is yet. It's like I'm writing in real-time without knowing the ending. But I'm pretty confident that when I hit 40, I'll look back and be like, "Oh, THAT'S what was happening." Hindsight is always the clearest perspective, especially with your own creative evolution.

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“Lost days in paradise”?

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That's my zine title! I’ve never mentioned to you but I’m also a hardcore Lana fan. The title sort of took inspiration from her whole artistry. The project explores nostalgia as both beautiful and dangerous—this thing we do where we polish our messy past into something prettier. I was obsessed with how memory becomes this selective highlight reel, comforting but fundamentally dishonest. The zine lives in that tension between the allure of rose-colored memories and the quiet self-deception happening beneath the surface.