Yi Quan was a rare soul with whom conversations became journeys—into the subconscious as imagined by Sigmund Freud, into the quiet depths of meditation, and into the living spirit of Chinese ink. He believed that ink upon rice paper was never mere depiction, but an abstraction of life itself—our geography of lush trees, ferns, and wild orchids, each stroke an outpouring of immediacy, each form breathing with vitality. In Pulau Ubin, he withdrew into stillness, meditating for days, embodying a devotion to art that was both disciplined and transcendent. In him, philosophy, psychology, process, and unwavering commitment converged—not as separate pursuits, but as a single, flowing practice of being. His art was not only something he created; it was the very way he lived, and in that living, he leaves behind a resonance that continues to speak softly, yet profoundly, within us.