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Art by Đài Trang, 1 Lobethal Road, Lobethal (2026)

10/08/2026

We don’t often talk about the difficult parts. So here I am, trying to do that a little more. Because sadness, hopelessness and uncertainty deserve space too.

I don’t remember most of my childhood. But one of my clearest memories is of a 7 (or maybe 8, 9?) year-old girl staying up until 1am to do her Fine Art homework. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to.

I still remember the orange-yellow sunset she made with pastels, and the magical feeling of looking at that painting and thinking: “This is what I created.”

Like many Asian kids, I grew up with the idea that becoming a doctor was the safe path. My dad wanted that for me because he wanted me to have a secure life. But that little girl kept hoping that one day, she could make more of those sunset paintings.

In Year 12, I finally found the courage to tell my dad. He said no. After a lot of sadness, anger and tears, I told him, “I can become a doctor, but I’ll resent you for the rest of my life.” He said nothing. The next day, he told me to do what I wanted and live the life I wanted. He would support me.

Since then, I’ve stepped outside society’s idea of a “safe” life more times than I can count.

And today, I’m so proud to say: I am an artist.
I make things that may not always be measurable. I create space for people to feel, connect and be themselves.

And even though I get to live my dream life, it’s still hard as hell. A few days ago, I watched The Devil Wears Prada 2, and one line stayed with me: “Why do we keep sucking the soul out of our lives?” I saw myself in Andy, frustrated watching art, fashion, design, journalism and culture being pushed aside by technology, AI, finance and efficiency.

So I’m grateful. Grateful that I get to keep making things, noticing beauty, and making space for art, soul and tenderness in a world that doesn’t always know how to value them.

I never used to think that what I do was important. But it is.

To every artist, creative, maker, writer, musician, designer, and dreamer - thank you for continuing, even when you feel underappreciated. Thank you for breathing hope & soul into this world.

Images: Lana Adams & The Mill by Neasan McGuiness

31/07/2026

Sharing the messy, soggy, "ugly" stage of painting with natural materials on cotton fabric. 🌿

It's definitely not the prettiest part of the journey, but it's always the most surprising. The colours shift as they dry, and things that looked a bit messy at first often turn into my favourite parts. (Still struggling with the waiting part though 😉)

This piece is an experiment with matcha, ground rocks, blueberry and beetroot inks, purple sweet potato paste, turmeric powder, and wildflowers I picked up during my weekly nature walks. Lemon juice for PH modifier.

23/07/2026

Me recently: simmering fruit to make ink, grinding rocks from my backyard for pigments, hanging experimental fabric together with my clothes (can’t waste the lovely winter sunshine) 🌞.

Hands touching soil and dirt directly, squeezing and twisting fabric with boiled cabbage + onion, using matcha not just for drinking but also for painting, eyes zooming in on the tiny things around me more than usual.

22/07/2026

Continue talking about my vulnerability until it becomes normal 💪

Imagine the first experiment of something you’ve never done before: your first swimming lesson, your first Pilates or gym class, your first public talk - the moment when you reveal your “beginner” self to the world.

Tell me if I’m exaggerating, but as someone who feels deeply, every time I step into something completely new, I feel incredibly vulnerable.

Recently, I’ve been experimenting with natural materials, making inks from plants and fruits, and pigments from rocks. Alongside the joy and excitement of entering a new world, I also felt a huge amount of fear bringing this very first experiment to Short Notice #5 (organised by the brilliant ). Standing among so many incredible finished artworks, I felt very small and nervous. I was afraid of showing something unfinished, imperfect, and still learning.

Of course, no one was judging me. But the fear of being seen while learning showing my messy, work-in-progress self - was still very real. Thankfully, I received so much encouragement and kindness from the artists and art lovers who came that day 🙏. One artist shared: “If we’re all vulnerable publicly, we’ll all be safe.”

And here I am, still alive!

It was terrifying, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

With these natural material experiments, textures, smells and colours keep transforming - shifting, cracking, fading, and sometimes disappearing. There were moments when something became so wet (and honestly, quite ugly) that I thought: “Oh no… I ruined it.”

But we don’t ruin our learning. We learn through it.

I once read: “Not every plant leaves a colour, but every experiment leaves knowledge.”

So here I am - sharing the messy part, the unfinished part, and my first-ever experiment with something completely new.

Maybe vulnerability becomes lighter when we allow ourselves to be seen while we’re still learning. 😊🎉

14/07/2026

A dreamy embrace, 2026, mixed media on round canvas, Ø 30cm
DM to purchase.
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Having this artwork on your wall is like having a mirror for your inner world, a dreamy moon gently holding the beautiful, the messy, the joyful, the painful, and everything in between.

This piece began with three hours of drawing circles over and over with pastel, markers and coloured pencils, until the anxiety and heaviness in my chest slowly dissolved. Over the following days, I invited those feelings back through thread and stitching. Layer by layer, everything transformed - not disappearing, but returning in a softer, lighter form. I love the organic round canvas. It feels like an embrace, while the colours are dreamy, bold and soft all at once.

This artwork offers a gentle reminder to stay with whatever is arising within. When we accompany our emotions with care, they slowly become something lighter to hold.

If this piece feels like it already belongs in your space, I'd love for it to find its way home with you.

10/07/2026

Sharing artwork with the public and submitting to art prizes is hard.

Part of me wants to honour the time, care, and love I've poured into my work. But another part of me quietly hopes for validation and recognition too. While I'm learning to make space for all these little emotions having a party inside me, it's still not easy when an artwork doesn't win a prize or find a new home.

In my head, I know it doesn't mean I'm not enough. Sometimes it simply takes the right conditions, the right timing, and the right people for an artwork to meet the people it resonates with. But emotionally... it usually takes me on a little roller coaster. One moment I'm reminding myself, "No matter what happens, I am enough, and my artwork deserves to be seen." The next moment I'm thinking, "No one resonates with my inner world." It can feel a little lonely.

And then we do it all over again.

So, I'm happy (and also nervous) to share that this artwork has been selected as a finalist for the Brisbane Rotary Art Show 2026.

I'm still learning how to be at ease with whatever comes next. But for now, congratulations to myself, to the other finalists, and to everyone who keeps finding the courage to share a piece of themselves with the world. 🎉

08/07/2026

Throwback to the final day at .arts, wrapping up my journey here with The Guildhouse Collection Projects back in April.

I came to deinstall my participatory installation, and it turned into this big bouquet to bring home. This place and the installation gathered so much love, presence, and restful energy from everyone over nine months.

It’s always a joy to revisit this piece and spot the tiny things visitors added to the net. 💐

07/07/2026

Currently exploring natural materials from plants, soil, and rocks around me.

It’s interesting because I’ve always had the desire to connect more deeply with nature through my art, but somehow I never really made it happen. After lots of travelling, especially a two-week road trip where I slept without a bed and spent more time touching the ground, I started noticing the small things around me, moss, rocks, plants, and all the textures of the natural world that I usually walked past.

That curiosity turned into a full-on experiment last weekend, when I started boiling, cooking, and grinding everything I could find from my fridge, my backyard, and kitchen scraps.

I’m having so much fun with this process, while also learning to slow down and be more present.

It feels like my current meditation practice has naturally expanded into a deeper and slower stage. Although most of the materials I use are found or recycled, something feels different when I know that the berries, eucalyptus, rocks, and soil around me are becoming part of the artwork.

It feels truer, lighter, and somehow more human.

I love watching these pigments and colours transform over time, seeing impermanence and interconnectedness unfold right in front of my eyes.

22/06/2026

Between mess and order

My latest exhibition officially ended at the end of April. Since then, I jumped straight into an overseas trip, then returned to daily life and to a house (including my home studio) that has been quite messy.

The whole installation moved from the gallery into my garage, which has actually been quite interesting to sit with whenever I walk in there. Art materials are packed in boxes around the house, my luggage is still full of things from the trip, and, with perfect timing, my robot vacuum decided to break.

For someone who loves cleanliness, tidiness, and organisation (yes, that’s me), this kind of situation would usually drive me crazy. Living in a space with dust, clutter, and boxes everywhere normally makes me feel chaotic inside too.

But surprisingly, this time feels different. After years of returning to myself and learning acceptance, I find myself much calmer. I’m okay with doing one thing at a time. I’m okay with the fact that life may never be fully “organised.”

Because the truth is, even when we rush to finish everything on our to-do list, life keeps adding more. Another thing to clean, another task to sort out… again and again. It doesn’t really stop, unless we stop.

Today, I finally started touching my materials again, sorting and categorising them. And every time I picked up a piece, I felt grateful and quietly said thank you. "Thank you for this piece of fabric, for coming all this way to be here with me."

I found so much joy in simply organising this big box of materials, embracing it all as part of my art practice and part of my life journey too. ❤

30/04/2026

A reminder to relax and release any tension in your body right now.

Breathing in… breathing out…
I give myself permission to rest.
Nowhere to go, nothing to do.

Photo by Lana Adams, Celebratory Gathering within The Guildhouse Collections Project at FABRIK .arts

Art by Đài Trang

10/08/2026

31/07/2026

23/07/2026

22/07/2026

14/07/2026

10/07/2026

08/07/2026

07/07/2026

22/06/2026

30/04/2026

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