My artwork is of my robotic toy friends. They are handmade, and not so fancy. They are artless, and not so fashionable. They are my favorite, since I believe they are vigorous, powerful and good-hearted.

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  The first time I did robots was for my Second Grade school project. I made a robot out of cereal boxes, toilet paper rolls, and tape. My robot was scruffy, with paper arms and a cardboard torso, and flimsy card cogs. It had food stains on the left half, and poor taping across the body. However, I loved it because of how it was homemade, not in a factory. His small flaws remind me of the stories about him. I remember sharing cardboard, pins, glue, and having lots of fun. I remember making beeping noises as he “flew” in the air. He’s my robot friend, who shared many good memories with me, like an old friend.

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  I once got a popular robot toy from online shopping. It was finely made, but it was more like an exhibit you aren’t supposed to touch. I don’t play with it much, since it was so otherworldly. My neighbor, a little girl, even got scared enough to cry when it started moving remotely.

 

  Thus, I began to make my own robot toy. He was unique, not a mechanical reproduction. Friends aren’t perfect; robots aren't either. In Chinese, robot is literally translated to machine-person. Machine-person. A person, whose only difference from “real” people is that electricity pumps through its veins, instead of blood, and titanium in place of flesh.