The Story Behind “Language Violence”
The Words That Once Hurt Me Became the Art I Created
For more than twenty years, I carried wounds shaped by verbal violence — from school, from family, and from the places where I once expected warmth.
Those experiences eventually became the source of my illustration series Verbal Violence, a body of work that transformed long-buried pain into visual language.
In my adolescence, isolation and hurtful words surrounded me like a closed world. Later, in adulthood, I came to understand that some of the harshness I received from family also came from their own unhealed fears — a lack of love unconsciously passed down through generations. Understanding this did not erase the wounds, but it allowed me to see them with compassion.
Art became the place where those experiences could be held, examined, and ultimately reshaped.
The sensitivity shaped by these experiences gave me the ability to portray subtle emotional textures — the quiet forms of hurt, and the strength that grows beyond them.
This series eventually received a Bronze Cube at the ADC Annual Awards in New York, led to representation by an international illustration agency, and marked a turning point in my creative journey.
But more importantly, it taught me that self-compassion is a powerful force:
we cannot change the past, yet we can decide what meaning it leaves behind.
Verbal Violence is not only about pain.
It is about the possibility of transforming pain into clarity, and clarity into art.
Poem
A stone
The leaves are packed in piles
Like nature's luggage
When the luggage has been cleared
Nature doesn't get angry
It's the rocks that are angry
Born in seasons other than spring, summer, autumn and winter
Sometimes swimming in the water
Sometimes into the wall
When it cries
It remembers that it was once a heart
石头
树叶被成堆打包
像是自然的行李
行李被人清理后
自然并不生气
爱生气的是石头
生在春夏秋冬以外的季节
有时在水里游
有时走进墙里
哭泣的时候
才记起自己曾是一颗心
遗忘的眼睛
我是大地遗忘的
冬季睁开的
无数的眼
看无数的云和无数的人
仅有一个我
建造
今日的天空
修饰
夜晚蓝色的句子
雪
雪阅读太阳
在黑发上写第一次死亡的悲伤
河水
河水仅剩下一张脸
因焦渴饮尽自己的身体
黄昏
黄昏睁开忧伤的眼睛
建筑收拢万物的阴影
等一盏沉默的灯
开口说话
雨
像一只鸟
在空中生锈
像每一朵云
都准备好作一块墓碑
在这之前的雨都是回忆
一下就下个不停
杯口
不希望杯子有口
所以给心盖了盖子
