Yuan Ge

For many years, I moved through life feeling that my worth depended on how much I could give—my labor, my care, my silence. I learned early to contain emotion, to make myself useful, agreeable, and resilient. What I didn’t know then was how much of myself I was leaving behind in the process.

In this painting, the space is enclosed and protective, shaped by drapery that feels both architectural and bodily. It reflects an interior I longed for—a place where growth could happen without being watched or judged.

Autumn is not about loss for me, but about discernment—the moment I stopped confusing depletion with generosity, and began choosing what to keep.

Autumn
Oil on Wood Panel
36”x48”
2025

💫New piece on View at SCAD Atlanta! 🐝

Spring
Oil on Wood Panel
36”x 48”
2025

.tagged

When I was a child, I often hid behind the heavy velvet curtains in my grandmother’s house. The fabric smelled faintly of dust and perfume, and when I pulled the folds around me, the world outside softened into a blur of green and gold. From that secret space, I could watch the room without being seen. There was always a pale celadon vase on the table—too tall, too elegant—and I believed it held the spirit of spring inside it. Granny would place a fresh plum blossom branch into it every year, and I waited for the tiny buds to open like whispering mouths.

On the floor beside me sat a little bowl with two golden fish. I’d crouch close and speak my secrets to them, imagining they understood the things I couldn’t say out loud. The draped fabrics, the vase, the fish—all of it felt like a small theater built just for me, where objects breathed softly and time slowed down. That was my time of idleness! In that hidden corner, I learned how quiet things could glow, how stillness could hold an entire story, and how imagination could bloom even in the smallest room.

Blossom’s Passage
Oil on Wood Panel
2025

.tagged ❤