An inner garden in the metro: How artist Ko Wan-chen found herself through art

Amid the constant rush of commuters at Taipei’s Jiangzicui MRT Station, a quiet corner offers something entirely different. Tucked within the station’s exhibition corridor, The Garden of The Mind unfolds as an undisturbed inner space in the city. Through this artistic process, artist Ko Wan-chen not only found herself but also rediscovered the direction of her life.

The show features ten works, two of which hold particular significance for Ko. Both center on cats, yet convey strikingly different emotional tones. One was completed at the end of a year, the other at the beginning of the next. 

“For me, it felt like a kind of rebirth,” she said.

Speaking about her past, Ko’s voice remains calm, though her words carry weight. “I didn’t really know what I was doing before. I often felt like my life lacked direction,” she said. 

It wasn’t a sudden breakdown, but rather a quiet emptiness that built up over time. On the surface, everything seemed normal, but internally, she felt completely disconnected from her own emotions.

It was through sustained painting and creation that something began to shift. “Around my 60th or 70th piece, I suddenly felt the urge to run away,” she recalled. “The images themselves were calm, but I felt uncomfortable, even a little scared.”

For years, she had prioritized simply getting things done. “If I promised something, I made sure to deliver. But I never stopped to ask myself if I was tired, or even willing,” she said. “I couldn’t even feel something as basic as frustration.”

When emotions are suppressed for too long, they tend to resurface unexpectedly. “Sometimes, it was nothing major, but I’d suddenly explode. Afterwards, I’d regret it and not even understand why.”

It wasn’t until she had created nearly 100 pieces that Ko began to truly understand herself. “I realized there were layers between me and who I really am,” she said after a pause. “In a way, I was the person who knew myself the least.”

That realization became a turning point.

She began practicing something unfamiliar: slowing down and tuning inward. “Now, when I feel something, I tell myself, ‘Let’s take a look at what this is,’” she said with a smile. “Before, I would just brush it off and say, ‘It’s fine.’ But now I ask, ‘Am I really okay?’”

She also learned to say no. “I realized I don’t always have to push myself,” she explained. These small but meaningful shifts gradually reshaped her relationship with herself.

From disconnection to reconnection, the process took four to five years. Today, Ko continues to paint, but no longer with the goal of completing something. Instead, it has become a way of engaging in an ongoing dialogue with herself. Looking back, she no longer rushes to judge or define her experiences.

“I think now, I’ve learned to stand on my own side,” she said.

The emotions she once tried to avoid, the moments she couldn’t understand—each has become a gateway to self-awareness. For Ko, painting is no longer just an act of creation. It is a quiet, persistent way of finding her way back to a sense of meaning.

Visit The Garden of The Mind exhibition at the Jiangzicui Station Art Gallery, showing from April 1 until May 30