I work with a visual language that was never meant to exist—and yet persists. 

Chinglish is commonly dismissed as error: the moment where translation fails and meaning collapses. I treat that failure as structure. Rather than correcting linguistic instability, I formalize it as a visual language that operates through contradiction.

​

This series approaches Chinglish not as broken Chinese or incorrect English, but as a self-governing language formed through collision. Meaning emerges between scripts, structures, and expectations. Instability isn’t incidental; it is the organizing principle.

​

The work operates through a process of formal discovery. English appears within Chinese visual structures—not as origin or proof, but as possibility. Latin forms surface through radicals, strokes, and negative space, extracted and recomposed through visual logic rather than linguistic rules. What emerges is not synthesis, but exposure: a system revealed without collapsing either language.

​

Chinglish functions as neither Chinese nor English. It exists because both systems fail to fully contain it. It resists completion, refuses standardization, and remains intentionally unresolved.

​

This project responds to a contemporary moment where language is increasingly optimized, automated, and normalized—translated instantly, corrected continuously, stripped of friction. Against this pressure toward efficiency and clarity, Chinglish asserts opacity, delay, and ambiguity as generative conditions.

​

By formalizing this visual language, I am not bridging cultures or resolving difference. I am recognizing a system that already operates in plain sight—and declaring its autonomy.

​

English was inside Chinese the whole time.
I am making it impossible to unsee.