以藝養心 — Yi Yi Yang Xin

This work began in Singapore.

It started with three long strips of purple fabric, dyed by hand and laid out as the beginning of a linear idea. From the outset, the intention was to create a long embroidered line — continuous, patient, forward-moving. At that time, I was thinking a lot about large linear visions of the future, about projects that imagine progress as an uninterrupted path, extending endlessly ahead.

The embroidery followed this idea closely. Stitch by stitch, the line grew slowly, demanding time, focus, and commitment. It was conceived as something that would eventually be joined, forming one continuous direction.

When we later moved back to Austria, I finished the embroidery — but the context around it had changed profoundly. Political realities shifted, wars escalated, and the belief in linear futures and grand visions began to feel increasingly fragile. Ideas that once appeared open and forward-looking seemed to narrow, constrained by power, fear, and militarization.

At this point, the work changed.

I decided not to stitch the three parts together. What had initially been planned as a single line remained separated. This was not an unfinished step, but a conscious decision. The line no longer wanted to present itself as one direction or one promise. It became multiple, parallel, open.

Only later — through exhibitions, encounters, and the practice of calligraphy — did the idea of 「以藝養心 / Yi Yi Yang Xin」 begin to attach itself to the work. Not as a concept applied from the outside, but as something that had already been present in the way the line was made: through dedication, repetition, and care.

The first full installation was shown at LM Studio in Hyères, France, together with my friend COCO (cocoart.munich). Our exhibition was titled 「以藝養心 / Yi Yi Yang Xin」 — Art nourishes the heart.💜

During the residency, calligraphy became an essential part of the work. I practiced my Chinese Calligraphy , which I learned in Singapore through my teacher Keng Soh, who later introduced me to the Hong Kong Association of Calligraphy. Writing the same characters again and again became another kind of line — a practiced, breathing line made of time and attention.

Cocos photography captures a moment; my work unfolds over long periods of time. Despite these differences, we share a belief that dedication to any practice — art, craft, or skill — can strengthen and nourish us.

One day in Hyères, I had a long conversation with Monique Aboukrat alias Marie Valentin- a Parisian poet about art, work, and life. A few hours later, we met again for a coffee, and she read me a poem she had written in the meantime.

Quand tu n e l attendais plus, elle est
apparue, nimbée de perles et de
couleur, délicat travail à foison, elle
resplendit dans la lumière elle parle
de saison
Voyage d e Singapour à Vienne elle
raconte l e vent. Ta construction
fétiche dit aussi tout ton temps.
Celui sans compter, celui concentré,
celui modifié, tout ce temps passé
à piquer l aiguille, choisir l a perle,
nous avons évoqué deux années.
Quel jardin du souvenir dira tes
pensées, d e conscience modifiée
aux motifs ajourés à la pleine
conscience d ici et maintenant,
moment d éternité, qui dira tes
longueurs impassibles quand t u
joues a u récit et berce l a mémoire,
éconduite pour un instant, près de
tous les fileurs et fileuses de perles
que t u as rencontré pour partager la
même passion ivre d absolu,
absolument petit absolument long
absolument joli terriblement prenant
pour réduire à merci dans la beauté
d u monde une petite perle d énergie.

Marie Valentin

Her words followed the journey of the work from Singapore to Austria, speaking of time spent without counting — the slow repetition of stitching, choosing beads, and holding attention. The poem did not explain the artwork; it mirrored it, translating process and memory into another form.

It became part of the journey of the line.

After the exhibition, the work separated again. One piece stayed in France with my wonderful friend Laurence Néron-Bancel. Two traveled on.

In Hong Kong, I showed only one part of the line, with a calligraphy attached to it, as part of the 13th Members Exhibition of the Hong Kong Association of Calligraphy. Around one hundred artists participated, each work unique. The atmosphere was warm and generous, filled with visitors and conversations. Seeing my teacher there, and sharing this moment with so many dedicated practitioners, made the experience deeply meaningful.

A personal highlight was spending time with my friend Sabine Zimpfer, who showed me places she loves in Hong Kong. From a high vantage point overlooking the city, I saw something that felt very familiar: a dense, man-made structure that was nevertheless alive and pulsating. It reminded me strongly of my embroidery — of working slowly on systems, networks, and patterns that humans create and inhabit.

After Hong Kong, Sabine brought the artworks on to Thailand. Not to a final destination, not to a fixed place — simply onward.

For me, this is essential.

The work was never meant to arrive. It was meant to connect.

The line remains open. The journey continues. I am certain these artworks will find new contexts, new meanings, and new purposes along the way. Wherever they are, they carry with them the idea that careful practice, dedication, and attention can nourish the heart — again and again.