Bio

Really Long Bio (good read for insomniacs)

The Early Years in Taiwan

I was born in Taiwan in 1972. My childhood could be described as rocky, as I was bounced around from parents to step-grandmother, grandparents, father/stepmother, then mother/stepfather. This resulted in fragmented memories of drastically different lifestyles and adult figures that caused both hardship and happiness. The darker times were very dark indeed--I wouldn't wish what I had gone through on anyone. Fortunately, at different times in my childhood, there were kind souls that made it all bearable and were positive influences on me, showing me that instead of violence and abuse there could be kindness and fairness instead.

One of the earliest memories I have was doing a crayon drawing of Mazinger Z (an old Japanese animation TV show about a giant robot) in kindergarten (I was four), and everyone noticing that skill wise, it was years ahead of what the other children had drawn. Ever since then, I've been identified as "that artist kid" in school.

I was the kid that sat in the back corner who daydreamed a lot, living in my own little world. My first love letter was at age seven, which resulted in my first puppy love girlfriend--the pretty girl who played piano very well and became class president. Funny thing--I ended up marrying someone with the same last name as her.

When I was nine, I fell in love with the piano, and would listen to piano music at night in bed, trying to stay awake a little longer just so I could keep listening. I begged my mother to let me take piano lessons, and she refused. I had no access to a piano, and as a kid, you're not exactly free to roam around and find yourself a piano to practice with, so that dream was effectively put an end.

Dennis (my younger half-brother) and I share fond memories of our childhood days together in Taiwan. We'd build plastic models together, play with them, and I'd carry him on my BMX bike and we'd ride around the neighborhood, seeking adventure in less-traveled roads. Of course, we also watched a lot of TV and movies together, collected action figures, reading Fighting Fantasy books, and did all the play fighting that most kids do. I think our favorite generic plot was the martial chivary classic of a kung fu master dying in the arms of a heart-broken student, who will then go on to avenge the master's death. Often, an accidental hit with a weapon to the knuckle will quickly end the session, or sometimes the plot just fizzled out, because we just weren't very inventive back then. As we got older, it was all about Japanese animation and music, scouring the used CD shops for obscure jems, or borrowing/renting anime from various odd sources (back then the domestic market of translated subitle/dub stuff simply didn't exist).

Grace (my older step-sister) and my step-father are saints--plain and simple. They are two of the nicest people I've ever known--kind, responsible, fair, rational, generous, and compassionate. My step-brother Stephen was also pretty cool to me in the short years he lived at home after college. My step-uncle (step-mother's younger brother, whoes nickname was "Kong-Jio," which is short for "The Monkey King Uncle" because my first impression of him was of him jumping off the top of a bunk bed) was a real class act too. He was so nurturing, patient, loving, and even tempered. He'd take me and Michael (my older brother) everywhere--from watching military marching parades to attending his college social activities, and taught us many things by showing us examples (like taking various sized fruits and arranged them on the floor to teach us about the solar system). He'd even protect us when we were being punished, which annoyed my step-mother because she felt he was interfering with her parenting.

I'm very grateful to have wonderful people like these being the positive influences in my life--I'm sure they helped shape my better attributes. Of course I have other siblings, half-siblings, step-siblings, real parents, step-parents (it's complicated--both my parents have multiple marriages, and my step-father had a previous marriage)...etc, but let's just say my other relatives will agree that it's enough to let these fine people be the shiny examples our family has to offer.

Our family moved to the U.S. when I was eleven. I didn't know a word of English, and it was quite a culture shock in many ways. I learned very fast, and by the second year, I was already speaking perfect American English and being mistaken for an American born Chinese. One of the reasons I learned so fast was because my mother yanked me out of a middle school with ESL (English As Second Language) programs, and switched me to a school that didn't have ESL, where I had to attend classes with other American kids. I had to either sink or swim, and it certainly was frightening. One turning point was when I discovered a series of books called "Choose Your Own Adventure" books in the library. It was like a primitive form of the computer adventure games, except you made your choices by turning to different pages. I was hooked on these books, and would try to read through them with the help of an English/Chinese dictionary. Then I "graduated" to the Fighting Fantasy books, which were more advanced, and had Role-Playing elements in them. After reading enough of these books, my English improved by leaps and bounds. During those growing years, I was also exposed to science fiction and fantasy novels, Role-Playing games, Heavy Metal magazine, American comics…etc. As much as I enjoyed them, it was Japanese animation that set me on the path to become who I am today.

I was hooked on Robotech, like many other kids at the time when it was aired in the U.S.. For me, it was like eating food after years of starvation, because ever since we moved to the U.S., we had no access to Japanese manga and animation anymore, and we really missed them. Although Robotech was horribly dubbed, and the storylines mutilated, it was still better than anything else on TV at that time. In the summer before eighth grade, a kid showed me a blurry copy of Macross: Do You Remember Love? --a Japanese animated feature film that changed my life. Although his VHS copy was probably a copy of a copy of a copy, with blurry pictures and sound, it was still the most amazing thing I had ever seen--the complex industrial designs, the beatiful character designs, the wonderful score that combined orchestral, jazz, fusion, and pop, and the story of a love triangle amidst an alien invasion...etc all created this exciting fictional world that you could escape into. That film became the catalyst that made me decide to become an artist, composer, writer, and director, and my goal in life was formed--to create works that can resonate with others and hopefully besides entertaining them, also move them or elicit some kind of profound reaction. Unfortunately, I couldn't decide which I loved the most, so I ended up doing all of them. Now I'm a grown man, I still can't decide (more on this later).

Throughout high school, I was mostly a lone wolf. I kept to myself, drew in my sketchbook, practically lived in the art building to work on my paintings, wrote screenplays, short stories, and drew elaborate and highly detailed storyboards for animation…etc. I was what you'd call passionate and obsessed. I started a Japanese animation club where we'd have showings during lunch, and even got our art teacher, Mr. Johnson, to play Akira (a landmark Japanese animated feature film, still considered one of the greatest achievement in anime) for the art class-without subtitles or dubbing, in its original form (there were no translations available at the time). Mr. Johnson treated me differently from the other kids. He recognized that I was a precocious little freak, respected my passion, and never once tried to point out the fact that I was an arrogant little prick (I'm much better now. As soon as I attended my first comic book convention at eighteen, I realized I was nothing special. The world is full of so many talented people it's scary). Maybe he thought my attitude was justified, as I was doing work that was light years ahead of anyone my age, or maybe he saw a lot of himself in me, because he was a bit of an irreverent prick himself (and I say that with affection).

At home, I mostly locked myself in my room, either drawing/painting, writing, reading, or listening to music. My mother hated that--she thought I was an anti-social freak who refused to obey the Asian ideal of studying to become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer,, and she tried to beat me into submission, which understandably, failed. Of course, she'd beat me for many other reasons too--ones that she eventually apologized for many years later. When not in my own little world, I spent quite a bit of time with Dennis. I'd take him with me on my countless trips to used CD shops, looking for rare gems, or we'd buy a mountain of junk food and watch anime or horror flicks late at night. I even took him to his very first rock concert--The Sundays at the Warfield in San Francisco. Dennis and I share similar music taste as adults, and I think those years are part of the reason.

In my sophmore year in high school, I took an off-campus Japanese language elective class, and I became very close to my Japanese language teacher, Yumiko Tasaka. She was in her mid-thirties and a very elegant and soft-spoken woman who also taught piano. She had the kind of sensitivity that I could sense from a mile away, because I was the same way. As kindred souls, we naturally got along very well and the more we got to know each other, the deeper our bond became. She admired my artistic talent and precociousness, and was very supportive of me. I would talk to her about my troubles at home and she'd worry about me. When her family had to move back to Japan I was devastated. She wanted to take me with her, and every fiber in my body wanted to go with her because at that point, she was the only person who really understood and believed in me. She saw a sensitive boy who was not loved at home, had big dreams, showed a lot of potential and promise, and she really wanted to rescue me and give me a chance to be who I wanted to be. But in the end I didn't go with her. The main reason was because I was afraid I'd cause tension in her family, being the stranger she forced upon her daughters and husband. I had only met her two daughters once, and I had never even met her husband. I didn't want to be an intruder in her family life, even if she assured me it wouldn't be a problem. I also felt guilty about just packing up and leaving my family. Even though my mother was like a dark and violent storm cloud always hanging over me, the rest of the family was good to me, even if they seemed oblivious to the abuse my mother inflicted on me. I didn't even know how to bring up something like that with them--that I was going to Japan and leaving everything behind.

After Yumiko and I said our teary good-byes, her family moved back to Japan. We exchanged letters and gifts to each other for a while, but then one day I stopped hearing from her. I still don't know what had happened. Her family was builing a new home at the time and I suspect they moved and she somehow lost my contact information. I had no way to get in touch with her, and throughout the years, I would often remember her. She was someone that showed me love and support during a time when I really needed it, and she was able to see the real me--the me that no one else could see. Over the years I would occassionally ask myself how my life would've turned out if I had gone with her. I will never know. Wherever she is now, I hope she's happy, fulfilled, and in good health.

Looking back now, she was in many ways a soulmate. In another life, she could've been the mother I should've had, or a lover that I'd spend a lifetime with. But in this life, she was a teacher, and the first person in my life to openly express love and affection for me in a way that really warmed my heart. It may sound odd to those of you who had happy childhoods and came from happy families, but for me, it wasn't until I was sixteen--the year I was Yumiko's student, that I felt truly loved for the first time in my life.

When I was sixteen, I begged my mother again to let me take piano lessons. She refused, saying that I could only do it if I got straight A's. There was no way in hell I could get straight A's, because I was drawing, painting, and writing all the time, and did just enough homework and passed enough tests to have average grades. My stepfather was kind enough to buy me a tiny little keyboard (one of those where the keys are very small) that I would tinker with, trying to write songs.

When I was eighteen, I saved up and bought a second-hand Roland D-10 synthesizer and a Roland PR-100 (two-track sequencer). I had no idea what I was doing, but my desire to make music was burning a hole in my mind and in my heart. I started composing and arranging by ear, and read every thing about music theory that I could get my hands on. I managed to teach myself guitar, keyboard, drums, and bass over the years, and I'm sure more instruments would follow in the future. Michael once commented on my amazing tenacity when it came to music. He would get up early to go play tennis, and see me sitting in front of my music gears composing music. After spending a whole day outside and coming home late at night, he'd walk in and see me in the exact same position, still composing music, as if I hadn't moved.

Unfortunately, music is also the most painful regret in my life. I understand very well that I started very late--too late, unlike others who's been taking music lessons all their lives, had support from parents to attend music conservatories, and had private teachers spending countless hours helping them. These people can sight read, have perfect pitch, understand all the complex and difficult to grasp music theories, have Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Debussy flowing from their fingers, and are masters of their instruments. To say that I have a lot of catching up to do would be an understatement, but I try--reading books on music theory, arranging/orchstration, practicing instruments, and of course, by actually composing, arranging/orchestrating, performing, recording, mixing, and mastering as much as I can. There are a number of very respected composers out there who are self-taught, and if they can do it, why couldn't I?

I had my first "real" girlfriend when I was seventeen (although my family will disagree and say that it was actually in the first grade. But, hey, I never kissed that little girl so it doesn't count), and then came the never-ending stream of romantic involvements, which promptly ended when I got married at age twenty-nine. Some would say I was a player, some would say I was a foolish romantic; I say I was both, and also a confused perfectionist. I don't regret any of it, because I had a romantic past that would last most people several lifetimes. Having your heart broken and breaking the hearts of others can be some of the most intense and dramatic things we go through in our lifetime, and if we're wise enough, we're bound to learn something from those experiences. Dennis, more than a few times, kept silent company by me and chain-smoked with me through my misery when I had my heart broken. Looking back, I wish I could've handled past relationships differently. I wish I had been kinder to those who were hurt by me. I wish I had the strength to walk away from those that hurt me. I wish I could've been more mature, more understanding, more responsible, and more patient. The silver lining is that by the time I had met my wife, I'd learned enough of those lessons the hard way, and if it took all of that experience to pave way for the very happy marriage I have now, then it was all worth it.

During high school, I wanted to move to Japan to work in animation, except Toren Smith, who ran Studio Proteus (they translated Japanese comics into English), told me to forget about it, due to the difficulty of being accepted as a gaijin (foreigner), and the impossibility of getting a work visa. I had no interest in American animation, since it seemed like "kiddy stuff" compared to what the Japanese were doing, so I went into comics instead (of course, me being a huge Appleseed fan influenced that decision. Appleseed is a brilliant science-fiction manga by Masamune Shirow).

Shortly after I became a fulltime comic book artist (just months after graduating high school), my mother kicked me out of the house because I didn't follow her idea of what I should be. I wasn't going to college to become a lawyer or doctor, had long hair and earrings, and she couldn't stand the sight of me. I was penniless and moved in with a friend and his family, and that began my eight years of being a starving artist. I moved around quite a bit in those eight years from different cities in the Bay Area, to Taiwan, back to the Bay Area, and the longest stay was five years in San Francisco.

The first four years in comics I could only get work as a freelance artist, but the next four years, I got to be a creator, writing and illustrating my own series (titled Enchanted, a dark gothic/fantasy epic), which was the thing I really wanted--to tell my own stories, on my own terms.

During the comic book years, I played in a band, and tried to make a career change as a musician. I recorded a demo tape with some of my songs, flew to Taiwan, and started knocking on the doors of record companies. I ended up selling one song to a big production company, who bought the song for Nicky Wu, a very popular popstar/actor at the time, and almost signed a contract with another record company to be a recording artist and producer/songwriter. But, after four months in the music industry there (and hanging out with underground bands), I noticed anything that wasn't mainstream had no chance of survival in that market. Since I had zero interest in mainstream music, I packed my bags, went back to the States, signed the contract for Enchanted, and spent the next four years working on Enchanted.

Money was laughably low in the underground/alternative comic books scene (unless your book was a huge hit), and I became tired of putting my heart and soul into my work, only to end up not being able to pay the rent or buy food to eat. I had tried to transition into the mainstream but it just didn't take, since my heart was in the underground scene. I remember once I opened the fridge to a couple leaves of dried up lettuce and half a bottle of ketchup, with only a few loose change in my pocket, negative balance in my bank account (they deduct service charges, and my balance was already zero), and my head spinning because I hadn't eaten all day (my friend Em once showed up with a poorboy sandwich, knowing I was starving. Man, that was a welcoming sight). My relationship with the publisher was also deteriorating, due to faults on both sides, and the whole experience just became less and less enjoyable. Finally, I decided I had to make a drastic change, and that meant quitting the comic book industry. I thought long and hard, and then made a plan to get into the video game industry (purely to have a nice paying job where I could still be somewhat creative, and make enough money to build a recording studio. I wasn't even a gamer, but I ended up becoming a hardcore gamer while working in games. I have Half-Life to blame for that).

After quitting the comic book industry, I worked various fulltime jobs (telemarketing, retail, sales…etc) for a year, while going to college fulltime. It was absolutely insane doing fulltime work and fulltime school, leaving me always tired and worn out, but my plan was to qualify for financial aid, so I could buy a top of the line PC to learn 3D with. I ended up getting a Pentium2, 400 MHz, 256 MB RAM, with a Hitachi Elite-Scan19" monitor. Soon after getting that computer, my roommate at the time, Jason Felix, got me a job painting textures for Prince of Persia 3D. Thus began my three years in the video game industry. I went on to work for various game companies, but I didn't really enjoy doing production work, because my main interest had always been being a creator and telling stories.

Getting into the video game industry ended my eight years of poverty. For the first time in my life I was not only making a living, but actually had money to spend on things I've always wanted (books, music, films). It was like a heavy weight was lifted from my shoulders. Prior to working in games, I had worked all kinds of odd jobs when I really needed money and comics didn't pay enough. I've done anything from being a security guard, door to door sales, cleaning industrial equipment, working at a bakery, VJ at a karaoke bars, framing store at the mall, making pizza, video rental shop, restaurants...etc. Fact is, I've been working since I was eleven (delivering newpapers), and never stopped working. For many guys, money means driving a nice car, wearing Armani, dating models and taking them home to a nice mansion. For me, I'd rather build a recording studio to make music in, or travel the world with a suitcase and a laptop so I can write novels from different places around the world and be inspired by many different things. If I had an obscene amount of money, I'd fund the production of my own independent films. And no, I will not donate to charities. I think by doing the best creative work I can and inspiring others is more important and meaningful. When I was starving, others helping me to pay the rent or feeding me wasn't what inspired me to keep fighting (although I was thankful for their help), it was the inspiration I got from the creative works of others that kept me going. Having a hot plate of food to ease my hunger only filled my stomach, but being exposed to a beautiful piece of music, art, writing, or film, inspired me to not give up in my struggles. If I were to give money away, it'll be to struggling artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, photographers..etc, so they can go on to inspire others and create works that will add more beauty to a world that often needs it.

While working in video games, I had a metamorphosis as a writer. I don't remember how or why, but I suddenly lost interest in science fiction and fantasy novels, and became very passionate about non-genre fiction. I would read classic literature, modern literature, and began writing novels. It was then I truly understood how intoxicating, cathartic, and emotional writing can be when you write from your heart and expose your soul on the page. That experience changed me as a writer, and it was one of the most powerful and profound experiences I've ever had as a creative person.

I became involved with independent filmmaking around that time as well. I had always loved films, and one of my greatest dreams is to be a feature film director. Being involved with independent productions opened my eyes to a simple fact--that talent is not a prerequisite, and often the people who are making creative decisions are people that should never have been in the position to do so. These people might have money, financial savvy to obtain budget, or are film buffs/armchair quarterbacks, but they are not storytellers, creative visionaries, or artists. Next time you are in your local video rental store or DVD shop, note the amount of utter trash that's been produced.

In 2001, a series of misfortune lead me to take a break from working in video games. Basically, I drove across America to be an art director at a game company in Louisville, Kentucky, just to be told the company was filing chapter 11 two months later. I had to move out of my apartment, with nowhere to go. I ended up staying with a Taiwanese friend I had just met. He was a faithful Christian, so was his wife, and their daughter was like a little sister to me. The kindness of strangers is an amazing thing, and words could not express my gratitude for their help. I stayed with them for a month, and then drove back to California to work at another game company, just to be let go two weeks later, because "my personality wasn't a good fit for the team." I was shocked and furious, and wanted to file a lawsuit against them. But I decided to let it go and went on vacation to visit my mother in China instead.

What should've been a few weeks vacation turned into years. My mother introduced me to a very well known woman in Fuzhou named Tu Chaohui (she was known as a beautiful and successful entrepreneur who used to be a well-known actress/model). Prior to meeting each other, we had zero interest in being introduced, and thought the whole thing was annoying. Other people's description of her had lead me to believe she was some kind of a calculating and materialistic business woman, and an ex-model and actress who used her good looks as an advantage. It turned out these people didn't know jack about her, and assumed things based on appearances.

The first thing we talked about when we met were our predominantly black wardrobe, the gorgeous sculptures in Europe, and the beautiful paintings in the Louvre--not exactly the kind of thing a shrewd business woman would be interested in. It wasn't the most romantic thing to be introduced by your mother, but we really surprised the hell out of each other. It was as if we shared the same brain on many matters. After my mother left us alone, we talked into the night and kept on surprising each other by sharing the same views on a wide-range of topics--our similar bad relationship with our mothers, our views about parenthood, our preference for wanting a daughter instead of a son, our anti-materialism views, our tastes for clothing, interior design, architecture, our views about relationships..etc.

By the fourth day we were already living together, and have never been apart since. Exactly a year later to the day we met, Elena and I were married. I must thank the people that made my life hell in 2001, because without them, I wouldn't have been at the right place and right time to have found my current happiness. You can see our wedding album here, read her bio here, and see the Kitty Cat Diary here (a collection of daily life photography I took of her).

Elena is a rare soul--she is kind, compassionate, intelligent, caring, and 100% supportive of me in everything I do. We are each other's best friend, and we care for each other as if the other person is a precious child to be loved and protected. I sincerely believe that she's a gift from above, sent to me to make up for all the hurt and pain I went through as a child--my personal angel. This is what finding that missing half is like--you feel whole, complete, and everything finally makes sense.

Elena and I didn't want to be apart, so my little vacation in China turned into a long sabbatical while we waited for the U.S. immigration to process her visa so she could go back to the States with me. While in China, I wanted to make the most of all the free time I had, so I bought a new computer and started to learn Maya (a 3D program), in order to make my own animated short film (It is titled Promise, a modern fairytale about love, faith, and sacrifice). I also shot a lot of photography in those years, and took on professional assignments after I upgraded to a professional camera system (Canon 1D MarkII).

In the autumn of 2003, Steven Stahlberg, a world-famous digital artist and a friend, invited me to be a director at his company, Optidigit/Android Blues (CG animation studio). I worked there from 2003~2004, in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. While there, I was doing mostly writing/directing, art directing, and content creation/pre-production. The day-to-day things I did there consisted of directing animators, directing voice actors, communicating with the music composer, rewriting some of the music, writing and rewriting lyrics for songs used in production, conceptualizing stories, writing treatments, writing screenplays, meetings with clients, pitching ideas to clients, illustrating storyboards, concept designs, illustrations, and creating animatics. I wore more hats on that job than I ever did in any other job, and I was glad to put all of my skills as an artist, writer, composer, director, and photographer to good use. My short film Promise was planned to go into production there, but then funding fell through and the film's been put on hold, and will remain on hold until funding becomes available again. I left Optidigit mostly because I realized that Promise would not go into production as I was promised (no pun intended), and I didn't see the point in staying to work on projects that didn't interest me. I left on good terms with everyone, and I'm still good friends with Steven. We had a blast co-creating a sci-fi TV show while I was there, and maybe one day that project will see the light of day.

After Optidigit, Elena and I went back to China to continue waiting for her immigration visa. The typical day then was filled with painting, composing music, writing screenplays and novels, photography, being involved in various online forums, and snuggling with the Mrs. I learned a lot about photography that year, as I really made an effort to get up to professional level in my skills. I did a few professional gigs that year and each one was a challenge that pushed me to step up my game. I'd spend an entire day just planning the lighting to be used the next day, trying out different lighting configurations beforehand so the shooting day would go as smoothly as possible. I even seriously considered making it a career at that point (but eventually realized that photography is mostly about business and less about actual photography).

Elena and I moved back to the States (California) in May of 2006, after finally getting Elena's visa from immigrations. Moving to another country is always a pain in the ass, and we had our share of stolen or destroyed items during the move (My Takamine EAN10C Acoustic/Electric guitar and Xbox were stolen, and a few furniture were destroyed). We stayed with a family friend for several months while I looked for a job. I thought it would only take a few months at most (because that's how long it usually took me), but it ended up taking nine months, which was really hard on us. I couldn't figure out why it took so long, since I was pretty well-known in the digital art community, had co-written a book on digital painting, have quite a bit of experience as an artist, and had just gotten off two pretty big projects (Spiderman 3 and Surf's Up for Sony Pictures). Eventually I figured out that for full-time positions, it's very important to keep up a resume that consists of a steady stream of full-time employment as opposed to freelance work, otherwise you appear to be someone that can't stay still for a long time. I then briefly taught at art schools in San Francisco (Academy of Art University and Art Institute), and that was kind of a strange feeling of validation because I never went to art school and am self-taught, and when I was younger I used to feel a bit insecure about it. But there I was teaching at art schools, and I realized all of my hardwork and self-education had really paid off--many of the students actually knew who I was and signed up for my class when they heard I was teaching there. But the teaching schedule clashed with my freelance work and I had to stop. Eventually, I got a job as the studio art director at iWin, a casual game publisher/developer, and that's where I worked for a bit over a year. You can read about what art directing in a game company is like in this article I wrote for Gamasutra.

Although my day job kept my pretty busy, I tried to put in as much time as possible in my free time to work on music--be it composing the score for a game or film, or my own personal stuff. Even during my day job as an art director, I still tried to get involved with music when I could. iWin didn't have an audio director, so I unofficially doubled as one when I could, reviewing and directing the music for our games. I often will listen to the cues delivered by the composers for our games and then provide them with feedback. The producers appreciated my help in that area since the non-musician ones don't know how to communicate with composers efficiently, and aren't well-versed in the art of scoring a game.

Around middle of 2008, Elena and I decided to move back to China so that we could expand our business investments there, since China is growing fast and we wanted to ride the wave before it fizzles out (it's not everyday you get to witness a world power trying to grow into a modern developed country). While the decision was mostly one of business, it will also allow me the free time I badly needed to take my creative works to the next level. Working full-time in video games (or any full-time job) can sap away so much of your energy and drive for personal works, and I always knew that one day I will do something that is on my own terms, telling my own stories, while keeping as much creative control as possible. If not now, then I don't know when.

Once we had decided to relocate back to China, we decided to design a home that would be our little paradise, as we do not enjoy being outside while in China--it's just a very chaotic and unsafe country in general. Elena and I are both homebodies, and we knew our new home would have to be very comfortable and visually pleasing according to our tastes. The designing and construction of our new home and my new studio took about a year overall. The studio was the most time-consuming in the design phase because I had to research and learn so much about acoustics and studio construction, but in the end it was all worth it because everyone that's seen the new studio loved the result, and it sounds absolutely amazing as well. We shopped for everything ourselves, driving all over the city to compare prices and designs, and I would do mockups in Photoshop to get an idea of how the finished result would look. I even mocked up where we'd hang paintings and what kind of frames we'd use. The finished result of my new studio and our new home can be seen here.

Although I was determined to focus on the next phase of my creative journey, I realized there was something I had to do first--something that had been nagging in my back of my mind for a few years. I was asked to teach a workshop once by the then owner of CGSociety, and I almost did it, but things didn't work out and it never happened. A few years later, I felt like I needed to revisit the course material and see what I could do with it. It was then I realized I had to do the workshop, because now the idea of teaching a workshop carried totally different meaning for me. I realized I was at a transitional period of my life, and this workshop would mark the end of an era for me. I would distill all of the most critical and valuable knowledge I've ever acquired as an artist into that workshop--the kind of knowledge that I would pass on to my younger self if I had a time machine. I wanted to reassess all that I knew as an artist, and also to help those who are passionate and driven just like I was when I was in my formative years. I ended up spending more than a year creating the course material, and to say that it contained blood, sweat, and tears would be quite appropriate. It wasn't just something whipped up to make money on the side like many people who teach workshops--I wanted to change lives and make a real difference. (You can find out the details about the workshop here.) The fact is, I've always enjoyed teaching and find it very rewarding and meaningful, and I'm hoping my workshop will repeat for as long as new students demand for it.

After the workshop, I'd officially start the next phase of my life--to take my work to the next level and try to realize the dreams I've had all these years. I'll be tackling original intellectual properties that I can really sink my teeth into. I have screenplays and novels I need to finish, and I have plans for returning to the graphic novel world with a new title. I'll also be working on stepping up my game as a composer--from advancing my compositional and orchestration skills, to excelling in my performance skills (keyboard, guitar, drums, bass, voice, harmonica...etc). Music will be something I'll really love spending time on, but I'm not counting on it to become a lucrative career, as the market for music today is nothing like it was when I was growing up. I'll take on clients and release solo works, but I'm going to be realistic about the fact that my musical endeavors could very well remain a passion and not a source of income.

I'll finish my screenplays and novels and try to put them into the right hands and see if they stick anywhere. When/if my new graphic novel kicks into gear, I'll most likely publish it online first and see if that will lead to a publisher. Photography will always be something fun I enjoy doing, but I've realized that as a creative endeavor it doesn't have enough layers to it as there is with writing or music, so it's unlikely I'll pursue it seriously. Perhaps the most interesting project I might tackle is one that combines writing, art, and music--something I'm tentatively calling the "multimedia novel" project. It's an idea I've had for a while now--one that takes the impossiblity of high-end one-man animated film and turns it into something that's within reach, although a different format (sort of like a hybrid of digital graphic novels and animatics). It does not conform to any established commercial medium or platform, so whether it'll have any commercial value remains to be seen, but I know it'll be fulfilling and challenging, and I'm looking forward to it very much.

(Update: In the last year or so, I've been focusing on writing novels, and I'm loving every minute of it. I think it's perhaps the most fulfilling creatively next to music, and it's likely I'll just continue writing and not allow myself to get distracted by my other creative passions--except music, which I could never give up. I've been pulled in too many directions all my life and it's about time I settled on one or two things.)

So now I'm in my late-thirties, and as much as I've changed, I've also remained the same. I'm still passionate, and I still have the same dreams, but I'm a lot more relaxed and realistic about them. I know what my limits are, and I know you have to pick your battles in this life. I already have too many dreams and have been stretching myself too thin, so I learned to accept the things I can't change. I can't change the fact that I didn't have supportive parents when it came to any of my dreams, and that I had to fight and struggle for everything I'm passionate about. I can't change the fact that my circumstances put me at a great disadvantage as a musician, and I have to fight a steep uphill battle just to get to the level that other classically trained musicians take for granted. I can't change that I decided to not go to film school because the thought of spending money I don't have for the ridiculous amount of tuition, compounded with the fact that ninety-nine percent of film school graduates end up not working in film, and out of the one percent that does, very very few get to become directors, really puts me off.

But I'll go on painting, writing, making music, shooting photography, and try to find a way to direct feature films. This is the only way I know how to live my life. I've never gone to art school, or even finished college--everything I do is self-taught, and I'm proud of that. I feel like I can teach myself anything I wanted to learn, and will go on teaching myself anything that interests me.

Although I still bounce between different creative careers, I've accepted the fact that I simply can't decide and love them all. If I could go on living a life where I continue to compose muisc, write/direct films/television, write novels, draw/paint, create graphic novels, make video games, shoot photography...etc, I think I'd be satisfied.

I'm a pretty optimistic person, and tend to feel that all things happen for the best (or maybe that's the only way I can deal with life's trial). For the most part, I'm a content and happy person, and that's definitely an improvement compared to when I was younger. I know I have many faults, and still have much to improve and learn as a person, but I do try, and I'm not afraid to admit when I've made a mistake, or have acted like a prick. I've always felt that the best way to live your life is when you're in your deathbed and you're about to part from this world, you can say with confidence and honesty that you have done all that you wanted to do in your life, felt all there is to feel, gave all you could give, loved without restraint, and have very little regrets. I want to be able to say that with a smile before I die.