A Brush with Inspiration

Text and Photos by Mai Neng

Inspiration comes from all directions, like a butterfly—you never know which flower it will land on.

There’s no doubt—those sudden flashes of inspiration in life are truly wonderful! As an artist, one constantly needs a steady stream of inspiration. People often ask me, “Do you ever run out of inspiration? And what do you do when that happens?” It reminds me of a story, supposedly about Picasso. Someone once asked him, “What do you do when you get tired of painting?” He replied, “If I get tired of one painting, I start another.”

I don’t see this as a problem that needs solving. Personally, I believe inspiration should be like the wind—free to drift and scatter wherever it pleases. It’s like a friend who shows up unannounced; all you need to do is keep your heart open to welcome them. Inspiration doesn’t need to be forced or manufactured. It’s like ripe fruit—its juices flow naturally, not by being squeezed repeatedly. True inspiration is a state of freedom and release, unbound by rigid forms or formulas. I pray that inspiration flows from communion with the Holy Spirit—through His prompting and gentle stirring—leading us into deeper realms of truth, goodness, and beauty.

Using wind as a metaphor for inspiration is still quite abstract. That’s why, in this painting, I chose to use arrows to represent the direction of the wind—it's a much more intuitive and visual expression.

Out of curiosity, I often find myself drawn to certain people, things, places, or moments in my surroundings. There’s no clear reason—it's simply personal preference. For example, I’ve always had a fondness for windows. As long as there’s a window, I can gaze, daydream, perhaps reflect... or even escape. When dining out, if my friends don’t mind, I’ll often ask to sit facing the window. Looking outward from within, the shifting scenes outside seem to help me breathe more freely... even the food feels more appetizing.

A window is a fascinating thing. In a certain sense, it serves as a barrier—but unlike a wall, it is a transparent portal, one that allows interaction with the world outside. When someone inside looks out through a window, there’s always the possibility that someone outside is looking back in. In traditional Chinese garden architecture, there is a unique design element in which openings are intentionally made in walls—these are called “leak windows”. In the classical garden design manual “The Craft of Gardens,” they are referred to as “leaking brick walls” or “light-leaking walls”. Among the people, they are more commonly known as “flower walls,” “flower wall openings,” or “flower windows.”

Whatever it's called, as an artist, I like to imagine myself as a window in the wall—a gentle opening where an eye can peer through. Through my paintings, I hope to let others see life from new perspectives—the seasons of the soul, the shifting beauty of time.

This piece resembles a leak window set in a wall, designed with cloud-like motifs and a rhythm of warm and cool hues. Between the inside and outside of the frame lies a realm of wonder—an invitation to see beyond.

Life can easily fall into routine. One of the most effective ways to break free from that is through travel. As someone once said, “Travel is going from the place you’re tired of living, to the place someone else is tired of living.” Put another way: “Stepping out of your own everyday life to experience someone else’s.”

However, a spontaneous trip still requires a number of conditions to align. That’s why my life motto has always been: “If I have money, I travel; if I don’t, I take a walk.” Wandering and observing—left, right, near, far—gives wings to my thoughts, letting them soar freely. There’s a special joy in the unexpected corners we stumble upon, especially when we’re not even looking.

Not long ago, I visited a museum in Shinjuku, Japan, with a good friend. It was showcasing woodblock prints by Katsushika Hokusai. Just before entering the museum, something across the street caught our eye—a small produce stand that looked incredibly tempting. So we decided to check it out first. We pulled open the wind curtain at the entrance, and to our surprise, what we found inside was astonishing—rows and rows of goods, both fresh and prepared foods, in every color and variety imaginable! The vibrant display of food, so rich and dazzling, truly rivaled the art we were about to see. It was a feast for the eyes—no less than a gallery of edible masterpieces.

While looking around, we happened to meet a woman from Taiwan who had been living in Japan for many years. She introduced us to a special kind of carrot that only appears during certain seasons—vividly red in color, beautifully shaped, and absolutely delightful to look at. Even though we knew it wasn’t convenient to shop while traveling, we still felt tempted to buy one! In the end, it turned out to be much too hard to eat—but thankfully, it was a splurge we could afford. And honestly, the simple pleasure of trying something new made it all worthwhile.

Life is a journey—take it slow, walk as if you're riding, and let your feet carry you far and wide.

To see a mountain—is it still just a mountain? Or has the mountain become a mirror of your soul? In "Scenery Along the Way", what did you truly behold?

Painting, to me, is a form of journaling life. As time moves on, the memories and moods that accompany each season become themes I long to express. There is a time for everything, and every emotion—be it joy, grief, anger, or peace—has a place in my art.

I happened to step into a stationery shop one day and came across a bookmark. It had a cut-out design, with several Chinese characters linked together to form the phrase “日日是好日”—“Every day is a good day.” Though it was just a small, simple item made of type and form, it carried a quiet blessing that warmed my heart and brought a gentle smile to my face.

Though the stationery shop was spacious and well-stocked, it was that simple phrase—“Every day is a good day”—that truly captured my heart. Much easier to carry than a red carrot, it naturally found its way into my little collection of inspirations.

Indeed, each day holds the potential to be good and new. The simple acts of breathing, eating, and resting are already blessings in themselves. And when inspiration overflows—how beautiful it is to receive grace upon grace.

After the pandemic hit, most people ended up testing positive at some point. It was an unpleasant experience that I felt shouldn't go undocumented—so I created a painting to capture the process of “winning the COVID lottery.” Each day, I tested myself, monitoring every symptom, until finally—on the tenth day—I turned from positive to negative, and could once again step into the light.

May each day be a new day, and every day a good day.

Mai Neng is a professional, full-time artist whose creative practice spans oil painting, ink art, and porcelain painting, often blending in collage and mixed media elements. Explore her portfolio online at: https://aredstudio.blogspot.com/ and follow her journey on IG.