TL;DR

Cosplay Photographer in Singapore, working as an independent artist.

I am not a professional photographer for hire, even though I hold my work to professional standards and put obscene amounts of time, effort and resources into them. I am just an artist using my art as a tool to build meaningful relationships with people that matter.

I wish to work with kind-hearted people who see the human beneath the surface, who value art over appearance, who celebrate personal connection over numerical engagement metrics.

I sell my shoots (on a willful donation basis) to fundraise for charity — check out the current and past fundraising seasons.

Mission

To carve out a kinder section of the world and to find people to serve the deserving.
To find my own healing, from healing others through my art.

Backstory

Once upon a time, there was a little cat with a very weak constitution. It was a gentle creature who did not know who it was, so it listened to every voice but its own.

Whenever others wished it to be clever, it tried to be clever. When they wished it to be brave, it pretended to be brave. It twisted and changed and gave away pieces of itself, all in the hope that someone would love it back.

But the world, as it sometimes does, did not always love the little cat. Oh, there were kind souls who tried. But the cat’s heart was tender and its mind easily tricked, and it began to believe dangerous, hurtful things. Even those who cared grew weary and sad.

One day, the little cat collapsed under the weight of trying to please the haters. It made the grave mistake of erasing itself, hoping that would make the cruel voices go quiet. But in doing so, it hurt the few who truly cared.

The cat fell into a deep, dark forest of its own mind. In that forest, shadows whispered false guilt for things it had never done. It also carried true guilt for the hurt it had caused the ones who loved it. One by one, even those gentle friends slipped away, leaving the cat alone beneath a black sky.

Time passed. Seasons changed. The little cat, tired and trembling, found help and spent hundreds of hours learning how to see clearly again. The storms in its mind grew quiet. But so, too, did the voices of those who once stayed close.

The little cat mourned deeply for the friends who had left. Its heart ached for the warmth of voices that were gone, and sometimes it cried soft, silent tears in the moonlight, wishing that if it was stronger, things would have turned out differently.

And upon its small body, the cat bore wounds from the past — the scars of harm it had inflicted upon itself in its own self-punishment. Each mark told a story of sorrow and confusion, of trying desperately to earn forgiveness by hurting itself instead.

At last, in the hush that remained, the little cat discovered something important: that clinging too tightly—to people, to love, even to an idea of itself—had been the root of its sorrow. And so it vowed to live a life of compassion, soft and gentle, without clutching at what might leave.

It remembered how cruelty once broke its heart. And it wished that its own healing might help heal others. The scars on its body will tell a cautionary tale, but the softness in its heart will tell one of compassion.

So the little cat set out into the world once more, determined that, when its fragile life one day came to an end—or even if it were broken again by cruelty—it could slip away in solemn peace, free of heavy chains, carrying only kindness in its paws.

And that, perhaps, is how it found its way to becoming truly itself at last.