Collaborating with the City of Dallas, Arts & Culture for the 2nd annual AAPI Heritage Dragon Boat Festival was nothing short of amazing. When they first invited me to be the designer for this year’s event, I was excited—and maybe a little eager to impress. I definitely put a bit of pressure on myself at the start. But as things unfolded, it all came together in a way that felt real, fun, and most importantly—true to me.
From the beginning, the Dragon Boat Fest committee showed me nothing but warmth, enthusiasm, and genuine support. That kind of energy is contagious. It wiped out any self-doubt or imposter syndrome I was carrying with me. Meeting some of them in person only made that feeling stronger—they made me feel seen, appreciated, and part of the team.
One of the coolest parts? I got to bring one of my friends on board as a sponsor. He was in charge of printing all the festival shirts, and it was awesome collaborating on something so community-focused together.
Since 2024 was the Year of the Dragon, I had already spent a ton of time drawing dragons that year, just for fun and practice. So when the festival came around, that dragon energy definitely came in handy. My first design leaned heavily into traditional Asian art history—lots of flourishes, ornate touches, and vintage textures. It looked refined, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t really me.
So I went back to the drawing board and created another version. This one was more cartoony, friendly, and full of color. I still kept Asian design elements like the dragon and wave pattern, but added my own playful spin. I love mashing up influences and giving things a cartoon twist—it’s kind of my thing.
And to my delight, that’s the version they chose. The one that actually felt like me. It was a solid reminder to trust myself and lean into what makes my work unique.
Even with all the tech and drawing tablets we’ve got today, I still love starting sketches with pencil and paper. That tactile feel helps ideas flow better sometimes. Though yes—I’ve absolutely caught myself trying to zoom in on a physical sheet of paper with two fingers. Digital habits die hard.
Walking into the festival grounds that morning was surreal. I hadn’t even seen the final printed products yet, so to watch people walking around in the shirts, banners waving from the bathhouse and stage, and all the signs, stickers, and schedules on display—it was wild. A good kind of wild.
And one last moment that really stuck with me: I rarely sign or watermark my artwork. It’s just never been a thing I’ve done much of. But someone from the committee made sure I was recognized and even signed the artwork on my behalf. That little gesture meant a lot. Thank you.
These are the kinds of projects I live for—not just because they’re fun and creative, but because they remind me why I do what I do. When I stay true to myself, good things follow.
