This piece is called You’re a Biscuit, and I think it really shows what happens when you compound your skill set and your practice. When you keep creating, even through uncertainty, everything you have been learning starts to add up. It all builds quietly in the background until, one day, it comes out in a way that feels effortless.
If we were to calculate how long this piece took me from start to finish, maybe about an hour. That is not to brag or anything like that, and the piece itself was not meant to be deep or revolutionary. I did not even plan it with any big intention. I simply did not have money for new canvas or studio space anymore, but I still had my paints. So I took one of my older pieces that I did not like, cut out a section I was unhappy with, flipped it over, and decided to use the back of the canvas.
At that point, I had just come off the David Choe experience and still had that same sense of freedom and play in me. I picked up my pencil, sketched out a few ideas, and started painting. It did not even look like what it became at first. I began to see shapes forming and characters emerging, and somewhere in the process I thought of Dark Magician Girl from Yu-Gi-Oh!, and that gave me a direction. I just leaned into that and kept going.
It was never about perfection. It was just a moment of release, and strangely, it became one of my best-received works. People really connected with it. At the time, I was honestly in a low place. Finances were tight, and I was just tired. But I still wanted to make something, even with nothing.
After finishing it, I asked my flatmate, Sarouche, what she thought. She loved it. I told her, “Hey, let’s take a photo for this and post it online,” and she was like, “Cool, awesome.” She even gave me a packet of M&M’s while we worked on the photo. She’s an amazing person, doing great things herself. We took the picture, I posted it, and that was it. The rest was history.
This piece is more than just a painting; it represents a shift. It shows what happens when you stop overthinking, when you let your process breathe and let your instincts flow. It reminds me that all the exploration, all the frustration, and all the experiments before this point were not wasted. They compounded. They formed a foundation.
By God’s grace, you get to this place where you can just paint without needing to intellectualise everything. You have already done the work, learned the lessons, explored the techniques, studied the influences, and now the ideas just come. Whether you are happy, sad, tired, or energised, the art still flows.
You’re a Biscuit is playful. It carries my humour. The little creature whispering in the character’s ear feels almost like ASMR, softly saying, “You’re a biscuit.” It’s telling him, “Stop taking yourself too seriously, man. You’re just a little biscuit, a little cookie. Calm down. It’s not that deep. Everything’s okay.”
That is what this piece represents: peace, play, and perspective.