Stanley Chen, Sorry I cant turn into moth, 2020, graphite, acrylic and watercolor on canvas, 51 x 51 cm

Stanley Chen, Wild Stanley Jumps Out From the Bush, 2020, graphite, acrylic and watercolor on canvas, 160 x 100 cm

Stanley Chen, Self Portrait as a Stone, 2019, graphite, acrylic and watercolor on canvas stretched on wood board, 101 x 32 cm

Jeffrey Cheung, Extend, 2021, acrylic on canvas, 122 x 122 cm

Jeffrey Cheung, Untitled, 2021, acrylic on canvas, 122 x 122 cm

YiRui Jia, A half hour before Mama Bride gives birth, 2021, acrylic and house paint on canvas, 137 x 162.5 cm

YiRui Jia, Women's Soccer, 2021, acrylic on canvas, 103.4 x 76 cm

Antonia Kuo, Egress, 2021, unique chemical painting on light-sensitive silver gelatin paper, stretched onto wood panel, 107 x 76 x 4.4 cm

Antonia Kuo, Sieve(Blue Stripe), 2021, unique chemical painting on light-sensitive silver gelatin paper, stretched onto wood panel, 86 x 66 x 5 cm

Antonia Kuo, Red Eye, 2021, laser-cut mixed media, 76 x 61 cm

Cole Lu, What does actual life mean? He turned. At his feet lay the shape of Orthros' imprint; the puppy used to lean against him whenever he sits still. Between him and the animal is the namelessness. The last time he wrote with Orthros, the puppy was 4, laying on the ground by the fireplace, the little one's soft golden coat completely hidden under the shifting cloak of heat. And now he is 37. As he races to record his memory, Orthros' imprint, was long gone. (Wake), 2021, burnt linen, rubberwood, 91.5 x 60 x 7.6 cm

Cole Lu, I wish this was a different story. The world has turned suddenly upside down. They don't know what it is to be so chronically untouched that it extended from a spaceless to the edge of what can be petted, that an accidental brush of mailman's hand on your palm sent a jolt of longing straight to your trunk. I have sat on the grass, park benches, stoops, hospital room chairs, holding the great stocks of unused, objectless desire impaled in my lungs that collapses without oxygen until I was sure I was not in the room where the air is burning. (I live in America, I don't have to love it, nothing sound less than freedom to me, you do that. Everybody's got to love something), 2021, burnt birch, 122 x 89 x 2 cm

Cole Lu, What does actual life mean? He turned. At his feet lay the shape of Orthros' imprint; the puppy used to lean against him whenever he sits still. Between him and the animal is the namelessness. The last time he wrote with Orthros, the puppy was 4, laying on the ground by the fireplace, the little one's soft golden coat completely hidden under the shifting cloak of heat. And now he is 37. As he races to record his memory, Orthros' imprint, was long gone. (Wake), 2021, burnt birch, 50 x 34.3 x 5 cm

Cole Lu, “There are no gods here, no ghosts and spirits in America, there are no angels in America, no spiritual past, no racial past, there's only the political, and the decoys and the ploys” (Mare Insularum), 2021, galvanized steel, soapstone, size varies

Ni Hao, The Harvester (stationery store abstraction) , 2021, wide varieties of doodles and scribbles from pen/pencil/marker testing papers collected from local stationery stores, cut out and pinned onto felt and cork sheets inside custom wooden frame with entomological pins. The pinning board is made of wood, felt, handmade paper, aluminum, acrylic, PLA plastic, Xacto knife, cutting board, eraser, sticky page markers, eraser, plastic binder parts, sharpened pencils and other mixed media, 82 x 120 x 10 cm

Ni Hao, Smoke Party, 2015 - 2021, ash, ashtrays, cigarettes, acrylic paint, dimension variable

Ang Ziqi Zhang, Untitled, 2021, oil and acrylic on panel, 40.7 x 50.8 cm

Ang Ziqi Zhang, Untitled, 2021, oil, acrylic, and color pencil on panel, 30.5 x 30.5 cm