“Finding Neverland” begins with a question I keep returning to: what if I were somewhere else? Not simply elsewhere geographically, but elsewhere emotionally, professionally, spiritually, existentially. The belief that alignment exists just beyond reach is what drives this body of work. We move, build, accumulate, and arrive, only to feel the quiet pull of the next place. Neverland, in this sense, is not a destination but a projection, imagined precisely because it remains unattainable.

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The series draws from the traditional Chinese philosophy of 天地人 (Heaven, Earth, and Human), a worldview that understands harmony not as escape or transcendence, but as balance. Heaven represents aspiration, imagination, and the ideals we project upward. Earth embodies grounding, reality, and the physical conditions we inhabit. Humans exist between the two, suspended in a constant negotiation between desire and acceptance. Together, these three elements suggest a state of harmony that is widely understood yet rarely achieved: the ability to remain present while still carrying the desire for elsewhere.

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Antique suitcases form the core material language of the series. Once designed to carry possessions from place to place, they are reconfigured into sculptural structures that no longer serve movement, but longing. They hold expectations rather than belongings. Each opening suggests passage, yet offers no arrival, only the act of looking: upward in City in the Sky, inward in Ecotopia, and outward toward others in Common Grounds.

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These works do not propose an ideal place. They linger in the tension between wanting and having, motion and pause. The suitcases remain stacked because unpacking would mean confronting a difficult truth: every place, once reached, reveals its limits. The fantasy collapses at the moment it becomes real.

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“Finding Neverland” is not about reaching somewhere better. It is about recognizing the cycle itself, the endless search for a perfect emotional geography, and questioning whether that cycle can ever end. Neverland stays just out of reach. Perhaps that distance is the point: not a failure to arrive, but the condition that keeps us moving.