I have always wondered why people buy my artwork. This also serves as a crucial criterion that must be met when I am editing my photographs. Is it because they want to hang it on a wall and constantly gaze at it? Does the piece speak to them in some way? Does it say anything at all? Are they inspired by it? Or is it simply pleasing to the eye?

I constantly ask myself, "Is this beautiful?" Beauty is highly subjective. Theories of beauty abound, but I have no desire to delve deeply into them at this very moment. I have my own standard for what I consider beautiful, and that is all that matters. And through my camera and computer, I am striving to create it, perhaps dedicating my entire life to doing so.

In truth, painting was what I really wanted to do. I don't know why, but I never truly got started. It remained just a thought, as the camera completely captivated me. I sometimes think that had I taken up painting when I was a bit younger, I might have become a great artist. But now, I have grown far too lazy.

Life in Laos affords me an abundance of uninterrupted time to paint—all day, every week, all year long. It would be a truly wonderful hobby to fill the vast amount of time remaining in my life. Had I put to use all the artistic knowledge I have amassed in my arsenal through school and life, I might have become the next Picasso. But that is merely wishful thinking.

Instead of painting, I take photographs of the things I wish to paint. It is much easier and faster, yet simultaneously a far more demanding process. To me, paintings are everywhere! You simply need to bring them into focus and observe. We leave traces of ourselves without even realizing it.

On a rainy day, when a car drives through a puddle, muddy water splashes against a nearby wall, leaving a stain. It leaves a trace! A crushed cigarette butt on the ground, the world beneath our feet that we barely glance at as we walk, a crack in a wall... My gaze lingers on a world to which people pay absolutely no attention. We all unconsciously leave traces behind. It is a fleeting, empty moment. Nature, of course, leaves its own marks just as naturally. Whether artificial or natural, they are the vestiges of our existence that we neglect and dismiss as unimportant. To observe these thoughtlessly created traces and, in turn, fall into deep contemplation—that is what I consider true beauty.

A learned photographer who paints with a camera. Photography is a medium envied even by Picasso, the ultimate hero of my artistic life. During my senior year at Palisade High School, the art students used to look down on me because they did not consider photography to be art. However, the student body actually voted me 'Class Artist.' Only now do I realize that they were right back then.

Ah, how times have changed.