In 2009, still a graduate student, I found myself—quite unexpectedly—participating in the Taiwan Pavilion at the Venice Biennale alongside many established artists. For someone far too young, as I was then, entering the international art world wasn’t about any hunger to “be seen.” It was more like being completely immersed in learning. Witnessing artists from everywhere, at every stage of their career became, for me, an irreplaceable form of enlightenment.

I still vividly recall one particular night after the opening. Artist Jun Yang was leading me through the streets of Venice. All of us—artists from around the world—talking deep into the night. Near Piazza San Marco, he suddenly said: “Come on! Let’s go to the Singapore Pavilion, my artist friend will let us in!” So there we were, sneaking through the dark installation corridors into the exhibition space. At the instant the lights came on, an elegant figure in a red shirt appeared—this was how I first met Ming Wong, and the scene itself felt charged with theatricality.