My artistic journey has always been shaped by the way I observe the world — quietly, patiently, and often from a distance. Whether I am sketching African lilies with a Lamy pen, painting wetlands in watercolor, or capturing fleeting street moments in Kuala Lumpur or Leiden, my tools evolve, but my intention remains the same: to see deeply, to feel the moment, and to preserve what speaks to my soul.
Over the years, I’ve travelled with two companions — the smartphone in my pocket and the camera slung over my shoulder. Each has shaped my creative path in different ways, and together they have taught me that artistry is never about the tool; it is about the way we choose to see.
Smartphones: The Art of Being Present
My smartphones — whether the Samsung Galaxy Note10 Lite or the iPhone 14 Pro Max — have become extensions of my everyday life. They allow me to capture moments exactly as I encounter them:
a sudden splash of light on a sidewalk,
a stranger’s gesture,
a quiet reflection on a hotel pool in Kuantan,
a subtle rhythm in the streets of Leiden.
The beauty of smartphone photography lies in its immediacy. With no lens to change and no settings to adjust, I can respond instinctively to the world. Some of my favourite street photos are not the ones I planned, but the ones that happened because my phone was already in my hand. The smartphone lets me blend in — it doesn’t announce the presence of a photographer. It allows me to be invisible, to practise my “sniper-style” approach, capturing candid moments without disturbing the natural flow of life.
At times, the phone becomes a sketchbook — a place for quick studies, small discoveries, and experimental compositions. It encourages spontaneity, and spontaneity has become a core part of my artistic voice.
Cameras: The Art of Intentional Seeing
When I pick up a dedicated camera, my mindset shifts. I become slower, more intentional, more contemplative. The camera makes me think in terms of light, depth, and technical discipline. It invites me to consider exposure, focal length, and how the elements in a scene come together with deliberate intention.
With a camera, I can shape the mood more precisely — controlling motion, isolating subjects, experimenting with depth of field, and embracing the dynamic range that gives structure and emotion to an image. Larger sensors unveil subtleties that the phone often smooths over: the grain of a wall, the texture of a shadow, the fine details in a city mural or patterned sidewalk.
A camera elevates my craft into something closer to meditation. Every press of the shutter is a choice, a commitment, a moment of artistic discipline.
Two Tools, One Vision
Looking back on my artistic journey — from selling my first wetland watercolor painting to walking the streets of Putrajaya or Kuala Lumpur searching for serenity, pattern, and meaning — I realise that both tools serve me in different states of mind.
• The smartphone supports my instinct.
• The camera supports my intention.
The phone helps me see quietly and quickly.
The camera helps me see deeply and slowly.
Together, they form a dual education — one teaches me how to react to the world, and the other teaches me how to shape it.
The Journey Forward
As I continue my path—painting, photographing, teaching, writing—I no longer think of smartphones and cameras as competitors. Instead, they are companions on the same journey. The smartphone keeps me curious. The camera keeps me disciplined. Both allow me to tell stories: stories of streets, of light, of changing cities, of my own reflections.
And perhaps this is the real lesson:
Art is not defined by the device in my hand, but by the presence of mind in the moment I choose to capture.
In the end, every image — whether taken with a phone or a camera — becomes part of my larger creative narrative. A narrative shaped not by technology, but by the joy of seeing, the courage to experiment, and the simple desire to remember the beauty of now.
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