Art Portfolio

In memory of my first pour-over coffee

*With respect to Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night

Sitting in a quiet corner,

the aroma drifts, luring you—

a dream woven in steam.

You wonder how long

before you catch up,

before you lose yourself

in this tiny cup of hand drip.

The first sip—

a quiet sorrow seeps in.

A wrong choice, you think,

bitterness curling at the edges of your doubt.

Deceived by this little cup,

you forget the beauty in its scent.

Yet the fragrance lingers,

a whisper you cannot resist.

Perhaps an illusion, you reason—

but your hand moves faster than your mind,

a second sip, two fleeting seconds,

sourness uncoiling, sharper than before.

Your heart seeks, lighter, lighter,

wandering a fog-lit cobblestone road.

Aroma glimmers like scattered fireflies,

darting just beyond reach.

Longing for a glimpse of fortune,

you step forward,

only to stumble on the unimpressive stones.

But after all, this is New York—

the city that never sleeps.

Where always another coffee shop around the corner,

and finance bros are as common as streetlights.

It’s the ancient, lingering legends of Brooklyn,

the intoxication of golden hour excess,

the warm wind and human tide rushing out from subway grates.

It’s the midday sun reflecting in SOHO’s display windows,

the unceasing footsteps of Fifth Avenue,

and the clouds like flames caught in glass curtain walls.

In New York, architecture is the city’s bone—

straight, rigid, and never begging for admiration.

It moves with the hurried pedestrians,

as if it exists only to bear the weight of life,

not to hold the gaze of passersby.

But in Chicago, I always felt architecture was a gift—

a landscape framed with intention.

Skyscrapers by the lake shimmer with the water’s reflection,

and the timeworn carvings above theater doors

seem to edge twilight with grace.

Chicago’s cityscape feels like a rehearsed symphony.

New York’s, by contrast, is improvised jazz—

chaotic, but pulsing with rhythm and breath.

So I learned to look up on New York’s streets—

not to capture perfect compositions,

but to feel the wind in that fleeting moment.

I wandered Brooklyn’s quiet alleys at dawn,

made my way to Pier 5 and stood at the river’s edge,

gazing at Manhattan across the water—

solemn, painterly, hushed before sunrise.

JPMorgan’s newest tower slowly rose on the skyline.

I saw happy families,

a dog trotting along the deck,

an elderly couple snapping selfies.

And I walked a long time on that riverside path,

camera in hand,

documenting lives fresh with meaning.

I named this flowing painting:

“Little Human Being.”

Across from me, a grandfather sat with his dog.

The dog looked at him.

He lowered his head to meet its eyes,

gently patted its head.

The dog blinked and stretched its paw.

In that instant, it felt like time had slowed—

as if we’d returned to an era when life moved gently.

I turned my lens toward the city across the river,

set it to Fuji’s signature film filter.

The faint ink-blue hue was like a silk veil

draped over a half-dream.

Then sunlight touched my eyes,

and I walked into Sey—

perhaps the most beloved café in New York.

People lounged on the windowsills of the tiny shop,

stone-gray and white walls interlaced inside,

green plants sprouting everywhere.

Once a warehouse, now the space pulsed with life.

A little sign on the table read No Laptops.

Everyone held books instead.

It felt like a quiet rebellion against the sorrow of labor.

Even Faro, the café near Harvard, has no Wi-Fi.

Sometimes, I adore places like this.

As a classic soul who will always follow paper books,

I believe in giving life back to life.

And so I embraced this city—

despite its overflowing trash on sidewalks,

its chaotic pedestrians,

its barrier-less subway platforms

where trains crawl beneath dim yellow lights

and guitar strings echo down the tunnels.

I held my camera, pausing at every intersection—

as if the world in my viewfinder whispered:

choose your frame,

and you’ll find beauty in that one fleeting moment.

Because this is New York—

the greatest city in a generation’s imagination,

a world of its own.

And so, I chose to embrace it—

in the crowd,

in the noise of Times Square,

the hush of Brooklyn,

the solemnity of Wall Street.