A Painting Of A Man With His Hands Up Art

a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
Inside a home in Petaling Jaya, Wing-Sun, a 10 year old Chinese boy sits cross-legged on the cool tile floor, watching the delicate tendrils of smoke rise from the joss sticks his father has just placed in the family altar’s bronze urn. The flickering candlelight casts shifting shadows over the framed portraits of the ancestors, their solemn faces gazing out from another time. Wing-Sun's father, dressed in crisp slacks and a neatly pressed white shirt, murmurs a quiet prayer, his voice low and rhythmic. Beside him, Wing-Sun’s mother clasps her hands together in a quiet moment of respect before adjusting the jade bangle on her wrist. Their morning ritual is a quiet, practiced thing; one they perform, and Wing-Sun observes, every day.
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms crossed
a painting of a man with his arms outstretched
At his Grandmother's house in Penang, Wing Sun is lying down on a futon in his bedroom, covered up with a beautiful lightweight quilt Grandma made. Outside his room the rain is coming down. In Penang, every corner of the old town—every whisper of the wind through ancient trees—seems to echo with promises of renewal and love. And as the rain softens outside, Wing-Sun closes his eyes with the comforting knowledge that every detour, every farewell, is simply a step toward a new beginning. A lantern gives soft light to the room, and all is quiet.
At the bustling Kuala Lumpur airport, Wing-Sun and his Mother say farewell to his father before he leaves for a six‐week business trip to London. We see Wing Sun and his mother from the back, as Father stands on the escalator going up to his departure gate, and turns toward us to wave goodbye. Many other passengers and children are standing around. The airport is modern and well lit.
a statue of a man holding his hands to his head
a man holding a rope in his hands
a painting of a man with his arms spread out
a man is jumping in the air with his hands in the air
a painting of a man with wings on his body
a man sitting in the dark with his hands folded in front of him
a man sitting in the dark with his hands on his knees
a painting of a man with a knife in his hand
Inside a large office building in London, on the 5th floor, Wing Sun's father, a Chinese Malaysian man in his 30s, speaks to his counterpart in the company, and English man, about business. Other workers are seated at their desks and standing at a copy machine. There are some Black people, but mostly British. One whole wall of the room is glass and we can see something of London outside.
a painting of a man holding his hand to his head
a man with a glass of wine in his hand
a painting of a man with wings on his body
a painting of a man with his arms in the air
a painting of a man with his back to the camera
a painting of a man with his arms in the air
a painting of a man with his back to the camera
a man in a tank top holding his hands out
a man holding a soccer ball in his hands