In 1989, when I was 26, I started painting recklessly, creating whatever I wanted. One day, my mother saw my work and said, "Looking at your paintings gives me a headache." ...Parents really shouldn’t say things like that, should they? That’s a life lesson.

In July 2013, six months after my mother passed away, I visited London. About a 15-minute walk from the National Gallery, I found myself standing in front of a gallery by chance—Pall Mall Gallery, I believe. I recall seeing an oil painting of a horse displayed there, and I thought to myself, "I’d like to exhibit my paintings in a gallery like this." Could I really do that? No, of course not. I wavered between affirming and doubting myself.

A year later, in the spring of 2014, I decided to paint again after 25 years and began creating reckless paintings once more. And then, my dream came true.