i AM - Transformation
Hi friends,
Welcome to the heart of my world.
This is where I write with paint, with blood, with breath.
Where I share the stories behind the art—unfiltered, intimate, and raw.
If social media is where I show glimpses, this space is where I let you in.
歡迎來到我世界的核心。
在這裡，我用顏料、血液、呼吸來書寫。
分享創作背後的故事——赤裸、親密、毫不掩飾。
如果說社群媒體是片段的展示，這裡，就是我真正讓你進來的地方。
From Quiet Artist
to Wild Becoming
Let me start from 3 years ago…
Posture tells so much about one’s inner world.
姿態，往往透露出內在的狀態。
我總覺得自己不夠好，
所以總是縮著身體、不敢抬頭挺胸。
那不是因為太累、太重，
而是我不相信自己值得被看見。
I thought I wasn’t good enough.
So I curled inward, afraid to stand tall.
Not because I was tired or burdened,
But because I didn’t believe I was worthy of being seen.
那時的「時尚 Tricia」，根本沒穿自己的衣服。
我把自己藏在前任留下、不合身的舊 T 恤裡，
彷彿穿上他的衣服，就能讓自己顯得堅強一點，
好像這樣就能掩蓋那個脆弱、無法面對的自己。
“Fashion Tricia” wasn’t even dressed in her own clothes.
I hid inside my ex’s oversized, ill-fitting T-shirts—
as if wearing his clothes could somehow make me feel stronger,
as if they could cover up the fragile, lost version of me I didn’t know how to face.
2022.06
那年，在我自己的展覽上，
我卻無法好好站立。
我的背像問號一樣彎曲，
守著一顆我自己都不敢靠近的心。
That year, at my own exhibition,
I couldn’t even stand properly.
My spine shaped like a question mark,
Protecting a heart I didn’t know how to love.
姿態，往往洩露了內在的秘密。
那時的我，是拒絕自己的樣子。
Posture reveals what words often can’t.
Back then, my body mirrored my self-rejection.
三年前，我扮演了個角色。
當個「乖女孩」，當個安靜的藝術家。
微笑、點頭，把自己塞進別人期待的框框裡。
他們說這是優雅，
但我知道，那只是求生。
Three years ago, I played the role.
The good girl. The quiet artist.
Smiling. Nodding. Shrinking myself to fit the frame.
They called it grace.
I called it survival.
2022年9月，我陷入了人生的低谷。
我吞下的不是食物，而是酒精、羞愧與罪惡感，
因為我無法正視自己。
鏡子裡的那個人，我完全不認識。
我把自己藏得太深，深到失去了自由行動的能力，甚至連好好呼吸都困難。
說「不要」變成了自動反應，彷彿這樣就能保護那個我尚未認識的自己。
那是一場靈魂的黑夜，一場靜默的崩塌，
迫使我開始發問：
在所有故事、面具和求生機制之下，我到底是誰？
我以為那就是谷底了，
沒想到，更深的谷底，還在等著我。
In September 2022, I hit what I thought was rock bottom.
All I consumed were substances, shame, and guilt—because I couldn’t face myself.
I didn’t recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.
I had hidden for so long that I lost the freedom to move, to breathe, to feel alive.
Saying “no” became my first instinct—a reflex to protect a self I didn’t even know.
It was the beginning of my dark night of the soul,
a quiet collapse that led me to ask the question:
Who am I, really, beneath all the stories, masks, and survival modes?
I thought I had reached the bottom—
but a deeper darkness was still waiting for me.
2023.06
那時的我，還在生存模式裡掙扎。
但我還是把僅存的能量都擠出來，誕生了一整個系列作品。
照片裡的我對著世界微笑，
其實是因為我內心根本沒有一個「我」可以分享。
我的自我（ego）聲音很大，只是為了彌補那個虛弱的內在。
那系列作品我取名為「整合」，
因為我開始嘗試去愛那些曾經被我否定、推開的自己。
我努力想變完整、變圓滿，
只是那時候，還沒到真正成熟的時機。
Back then, I was still deep in survival mode.
And yet, I squeezed out every drop of energy I had to birth a full collection.
In the photos, you’ll see me smiling for the world—
because I had no true self to share.
My ego was loud, compensating for the emptiness underneath.
I called it the Integration Collection,
because it was the beginning of learning to love the past versions of me I had rejected.
I was working hard to become whole—
but the timing just wasn’t right yet.
媽媽幫我拍照的時候，努力想捕捉一個為自己作品感到驕傲的 Tricia。
她很用心、很耐心，
但那樣的我，卻很少出現。
我知道她想留下的是一個閃閃發光的女兒，
可我那時只是個正在崩塌、硬撐著微笑的空殼。
When my mom took photos of me,
she tried so hard to capture a Tricia who was proud of her work.
She was so patient, so loving—
but that version of me rarely showed up.
I know she wanted to preserve an image of her daughter shining bright,
but back then, I was just a hollow shell, collapsing quietly behind a smile.
2023.07
2023年7月，分手發生了。
那之前的兩年，我把所有創作的能量都投入在庭院裡，
日復一日種花、挖土、打造夢想中的花園——
其實是想逃避自己，也逃避那段正在崩解的關係。
當我親手打造的花園終於漸漸成形、充滿生命時，
這段感情卻走到了終點。
我曾以為自己是某人的女友，是一位藝術家，
但當關係結束，我只剩下那個怯生生、不確定的藝術家身份，
還有銀行帳戶裡的一萬塊台幣。
那一刻，我才發現，我把自我價值綁在了他人身上，
當這段關係抽離，我連自己是誰都不確定了。
In July 2023, the breakup happened.
For two years before that, I had poured all my creative energy into the backyard—
planting, digging, building my dream garden day after day.
It was an escape—from myself, and from a relationship that was slowly falling apart.
Just as the garden I had worked so hard on began to bloom and come alive,
the relationship ended.
I had thought I was someone’s girlfriend, and an artist.
But when it all ended, all I had left was a timid, uncertain version of that artist identity—
and $10,000 in my bank account.
That moment made me realize how much of my worth was wrapped up in someone else.
And without them, I no longer knew who I was.
Dark Goddesses
分手之後，我掉進了人生中最黑暗的低谷。
人在經歷無法解決的混亂與痛苦時，才會真正轉向靈性。
那時的我開始探索各種黑暗女神與原型，透過身體去化身她們，找回自己的力量。
我帶了許多以「黑暗女神」為主題的工作坊，
其實那不是我教別人——
而是我自己最需要這些力量。
那些能量從我身體裡源源不絕地湧出，
也流向那些願意同行的人。
我開始不再害怕成為「太多」的自己，
因為那正是我最真實的樣子。
After the breakup, I sank into the darkest darkness I had ever known.
No one turns to spirituality unless they’re faced with a storm they can’t resolve.
I began embodying different dark goddesses and archetypes—
searching for the pieces of my power I had lost.
I led workshops centered around these fierce feminine forces,
not because I had mastered them,
but because I desperately needed their energy for myself.
That power began pouring out of me—
reaching others who were ready to rise with it.
I stopped being afraid of being “too much.”
Because that intensity was never the problem—
it was always my truth.
痛得越深，
對著鏡頭的笑容就越燦爛。
The deeper the pain,
the brighter I smiled into the camera.
(我那時還是縮著胸口 I was still hunching then.)
那時候的我，正在嘗試帶領工作坊，也去擺市集，
媽媽一直在旁邊幫助我、支持我。
表面上看起來，我好像重新開始連結世界了，
但其實，這一切只是我在努力證明自己還活著，
用被看見來掩飾心裡仍然翻騰不已的傷痛。
我在推自己往外走的同時，內心卻仍深陷分手的混亂。
Around that time, I began leading workshops and attending markets—
with my mom by my side, always helping, always supporting.
To the outside world, it looked like I was reconnecting,
putting myself out there again.
But truthfully, I was forcing myself to be seen—
trying to prove that I was still alive,
hiding the chaos still raging inside me after the breakup.
I was pushing outward, while still drowning inward.
我非常感謝媽媽，
那段日子裡，她一直陪著我，一起嘗試不同的方式，
讓我可以用藝術重新和人連結。
是她那溫柔堅定的女性能量，
還有那份無條件的愛，慢慢滋養著我，
把我從一片混亂中拉回來。
她總是輕輕地提醒我——
在那段感情之前的我，是誰。
那個我，當時對我來說既陌生又遙遠，
但因為她的愛，我開始一點一點記起來。
I’m deeply grateful for my mom.
During that time, she stood by me,
supporting me as I experimented with new ways to connect people to my art.
It was her divine feminine energy,
her unconditional love,
that slowly nurtured me back to life.
She gently reminded me of who I was before the relationship—
someone I had forgotten,
someone who felt so far away I could barely recognize her.
But through her love,
I began to remember.
那將近一整年，我的臉上都是痘痘。
皮膚破了，面具也跟著碎了。
在經歷自我瓦解（ego death）的那段時間，
我已經無力、也無所謂外表如何，
因為曾經認為是「我」的那一切，
都在黑暗中被燒得乾乾淨淨。
我不再乞求被理解，
也不在乎別人如何看我。
那不是冷漠，而是一種重生後的寧靜與自由。
我幾乎每晚都是哭著入睡，
在痛苦中，我不斷反思自己，
也開始誠實地看見這段關係帶給我的課題：
我如何把愛變成依附、
又是如何忽略了自己的聲音。
這段關係讓我看見自己最深的渴望與恐懼——
而我決定，不再背棄自己。
For nearly a year, my face was covered in acne.
My skin broke—and so did the masks I used to wear.
While going through ego death,
I simply couldn’t care about how I looked anymore.
Everything I once believed made me me
was burned away in the dark.
I stopped begging to be understood.
I no longer cared how others saw me.
It wasn’t numbness—
it was the quiet, spacious freedom that comes after everything falls apart.
I cried myself to sleep every night.
In that pain, I began to reflect on myself deeply.
I looked honestly at what the relationship had come to teach me—
how I had confused love with attachment,
how I silenced my own truth to maintain connection.
The relationship exposed my deepest longings and fears.
And I chose, finally, to stop abandoning myself.
Emotion =
Energy in Motion
當悲傷和痛苦多到快要承受不住時，
我轉向了我的老朋友——「舞蹈」，讓情緒流動。
成為畫家之後，我常常一坐就是好幾個小時，
太多的情緒累積在身體裡無法釋放。
直到我跳起舞來，那些壓抑的能量才開始流動、釋放。
外婆生前總說，我小時候最喜歡在舞台上跳舞、被看見，
但我卻一直否認她看到的那個我。
我以為我真的只是那個安靜的畫家，
害羞、低調、不需要被看見。
原來，我只是把那個真實的自己藏了起來。
When the grief and pain became too much to bear,
I turned to an old friend—dance—to move the emotions through me.
Emotion is energy in motion.
After becoming a painter, I often sat at my art table for hours a day,
letting emotion pile up, stuck in my body with nowhere to go.
But when I danced, the energy finally moved,
and something within me softened, released.
My grandma used to say I loved being seen,
that I lit up when dancing on stage.
But I had spent years denying the version of me she saw.
I truly believed I was just the timid, quiet painter—
the one who didn’t need to make a sound.
But the truth was, I had simply hidden the vibrant, expressive part of me away.
i AM a Tantrika
在黑暗的洞穴裡隱藏了一整年後，
我用盡所有懂得的工具療癒自己，
但心碎的痛，依然像潮水一樣一波波襲來。
我開始祈禱，請求一位導師出現，
帶我穿越這扇我無法獨自打開的大門。
然後，我的靈性老師出現了。
我當時並不知道，那將會是我踏上Tantra之路的開始。
有某種難以言喻的力量在吸引我，
不帶邏輯，不靠理智，只是一種潛意識的召喚。
我開始明白——
我天生就是要打破禁忌、潛入黑暗、從深處挖出光。
這不也是我藝術裡一直以來不斷重複的訊息嗎？
After hiding in my dark cave for an entire year,
I had tried every healing tool I knew—
but the heartbreak was still too painful to bear.
So I began to pray.
I prayed for a guru, someone who could guide me to a gateway I couldn’t find alone.
And then my spiritual teacher appeared.
I didn’t realize at the time that this was the beginning of my Tantra path.
Something drew me in—
something beyond logic or reason,
a pull from somewhere deep in the subconscious.
And I started to understand:
I’m meant to break taboos, to walk into the dark and find the light.
That’s always been the message running through my art—
even before I had words for it.
Make it stand out
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
經過六個月的潛修，我彷彿在人間消失了。
我經歷了一場徹底的淨化，
也在繭裡找到了前所未有的平靜與安穩。
但諷刺的是，就在我以為終於可以安靜下來時，
生命卻開始悄悄把我往外推。
2024年接近尾聲時，
一個想法在心中悄然浮現——
也許，我該再次舉辦一場展覽了。
After six months of disappearing into deep spiritual practice,
after purging everything,
after finding unexpected comfort in my cocoon,
ironically—life began nudging me back out into the world.
Just when I thought I could finally rest in stillness,
something stirred.
Toward the end of 2024,
the idea of holding another exhibition quietly began to take shape.
在第一次展覽後，我留下了一幅畫給自己，
它的名字叫做《Let go》。
這幅畫一直掛在我房間的牆上，
像是一個安靜卻堅定的提醒。
分手後，「放下」成了我最難做到的一課，
而這幅畫，就像是在默默陪著我練習。
它不吵、不說話，卻見證了我無數次的掙扎與淚水。
After my first exhibition, I kept one painting for myself.
It’s called Let Go.
It’s been hanging quietly on my bedroom wall ever since—
a soft but constant reminder.
After the breakup, letting go became the hardest lesson of all.
And that painting…
it stood by me in silence,
as I struggled, cried, and slowly learned how to loosen my grip.
當我決定要再次舉辦展覽後，
我開始用作品與照片記錄自己的狀態。
每個月、每一幅畫，
我都能看見些微卻明顯的變化。
我的姿態變了，
我的眼神更堅定，氣場也越來越穩。
那些改變不是故意做出來的，
而是從靈魂深處長出來的。
我終於不只是畫圖的人，
而是活出畫裡的能量的人。
2025.03
After I made the decision to hold another exhibition,
I began documenting myself through my artwork—and through the camera.
Month by month, piece by piece,
I could see the subtle but powerful shifts.
My posture changed.
My gaze became clearer, stronger.
There was a presence—an undeniable energy—that hadn’t been there before.
It wasn’t something I was trying to perform.
It was something rising naturally from within.
I was no longer just the one painting the energy—
I was becoming the one embodying it.
我最近真的好享受穿著不只是 T 恤、睡衣和工裝褲的自己。
能再次迎接那個fashion Tricia 回來，感覺好美妙。
我天生就是為了整合所有面向的自己，
只有擁抱完整，我才真正感到自由。
透過不同風格的衣服去展現不同版本的我，
成了一種玩樂、一種儀式，也是一種愛自己的方式。
現在，我穿的不只是衣服，
我穿上的是我內在每一種不同的靈魂氣味。
Lately, I’ve been truly enjoying wearing clothes beyond just T-shirts, pyjamas and dungarees.
It feels so good to welcome Fashion Tricia back into my life.
I was born to embody all aspects of myself—
only by embracing my wholeness do I feel truly free.
Wearing different kinds of clothing has become a playful and sacred way
to express the many flavors of who I am.
Now, when I dress up,
it’s not just about fashion,
it’s about honoring the full spectrum of my soul.
如果我沒有經歷那場撕裂的黑暗，
如果我繼續待在那個小小的安全盒子裡，
我不會有勇氣去畫這麼大幅的畫，
更不可能用自己的經血創作。
那是一場對女性力量的奪回儀式。
我不是只在為自己創作，
我是在為整個女性家族線、
為那些無法發聲的女人、
為那些被壓抑的靈魂，
透過這副身體、這雙手，創作與療癒。
If I hadn’t gone through that darkness,
if I had stayed inside the small, safe box—
I wouldn’t have found the courage to paint this big,
or to use my own period blood as a medium.
This is a ritual of reclaiming feminine power.
When I paint with my blood,
it’s not just for myself—
it’s for the women in my lineage,
for those who never got to speak,
for those whose voices were silenced.
Through this body, through these hands,
I create and I heal—for all of us.
諷刺的是,
Ironically,
當我曾那麼努力想成為「某人的女友」、
努力扮演心中那個理想的藝術家，
一切卻都很卡
沒有什麼是對的，一切都像在硬撐，
我甚至連呼吸都困難。
直到我放下那些身份、那些「應該」之後，
我才終於能真正地 存在。
這次的展覽之所以叫做「i AM」，
就是因為它是一場回家的旅程。
我回到了那個最真實、最自由的自己。
when I tried so hard to be someone’s girlfriend,
to fit the image of the artist I thought I had to be—
nothing flowed.
Everything felt like a struggle. I couldn’t breathe.
It wasn’t until I gave up those identities—
those “shoulds”—
that I finally learned how to simply be.
That’s why this exhibition is called ‘i AM’.
It’s a return.
A homecoming to the truest, freest version of myself.
For years, I called myself a "quiet artist."
I thought I was meant to be quiet with 靜 character in my name.
I painted in solitude. I moved in silence.
My hands spoke through colors and shapes, but my voice—my actual voice—remained hidden.
I used to believe that staying invisible was safer. That being “good” and “gentle” was the only way to be accepted. I painted what I was feeling, but rarely did I let people see me—the raw, contradictory, sensual, sacred, and untamed being behind the canvas.
But something inside me never stopped burning. A wild pulse that refused to be muted.
It whispered through blood, through rhythm, through dreams.
Until one day… I listened.
多年來，我都稱自己是個「安靜的藝術家」。
我以為我註定要我以為我註定要保持安靜，因為我有個靜字在名字裡。
我默默地畫畫、靜靜地移動。
我的雙手透過色彩和形狀說話，但我真正的聲音——一直隱藏著。
我曾以為，保持隱形比較安全。
乖巧、溫柔，是唯一被接受的方式。
我畫出內在的情緒，卻很少讓人真正看見我——那個矛盾、性感、神聖又難以馴服的我。
但內在那股野性的脈動從未熄滅，
它透過月經、節奏、夢境低語著，
直到有一天……我終於聽見了。
2025.07
看我在舞台上跳舞、歌唱、作畫
那是一場靈魂的綻放。
See how I danced, sang, and painted on stage—
it was my soul unfolding in real time.
這些年，我的創作早已不只是「作品」，
而是一種靈魂的記錄、祖先的回聲、
一場場跨時空的療癒儀式。
我把自己的經歷揉進顏料、血液與汗水裡，
讓每一幅畫都成為一扇門，
帶觀者走進自己內在的黑暗與光。
我從自己開始，但我不再只為自己而創作。
我的藝術是集體的記憶，是女性的吶喊，
是那股我們被教導要壓抑的野性之美。
Over the years, my art has become more than just "work"—
it’s a record of the soul, a whisper from my ancestors,
a portal for healing that transcends time and space.
I pour my experiences into every drop of paint, blood, and sweat,
turning each piece into a doorway
for the viewer to journey into their own darkness and light.
I may have started with myself,
but I no longer create solely for me.
My art carries the collective memory, the voice of women,
and the wild beauty we were taught to suppress.
If this story touched something in you—
Leave a comment. Share it with a friend.
Or better yet—join my newsletter for the deepest, most intimate updates I only send through email.
Thank you for witnessing me.
如果這段故事觸動了你——
歡迎留言，或轉發給你在乎的人。
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感謝你，見證我的旅程。