After spending most of my twenties disconnected from art, I picked up the pencil again a few months ago. When I returned to it, I knew I wanted to begin with something simple and warm—something close.


This drawing was inspired by a trip to Taiwan last year, where my days largely revolved around food—bubble tea, grass jelly, beef noodle soup. What surprised me was how familiar some of it felt. I grew up in Germany and have Korean roots, yet somehow, sitting in a noodle shop in Taipei felt more like home than many places I’ve known. It made me reflect on comfort food—not just taste, but the emotion behind it. I’ve eaten German bread all my life and love it. But certain foods—noodles in broth, a bowl of rice—hit differently. Even when they’re not Korean, they carry a kind of recognition.


It’s interesting how comfort can form around something that isn’t inherently yours.
Maybe that says something about cultural identity—less about fixed origins or
allegiance, and more about lived experiences and emotions.
This piece isn’t about one place or one dish. It’s about that sense of ease and familiarity that can take many forms. And interestingly, when I’m in Berlin and craving comfort, I often find myself turning to dishes like dumplings or noodle soups. It reflects the quiet complexities of bicultural identity and the layered ways we find comfort between worlds.