My PGDP journey has been a constant back-and-forth—like a yo-yo caught between inspired breakthroughs and complete confusion.

Chaos took centre stage when I was hunting for teak wood, cutting wildly in ‘Scissors on the Loose,’ or sketching endless vanishing frogs with no clear direction. The interim exhibition had me juggling between the people's cards, glossary terms, and metaphors, questioning museum narratives while simultaneously trying to organise my own thoughts. There were moments when everything felt experimental—exciting, but also a little unhinged.

Yet, structure always pulled me back. I realised things had to be practical, not just aesthetically pleasing. Even material explorations had their limits—teak wood isn’t endlessly forgiving, and neither is coordinating between 14 sleep deprived people.

In the end, my PGDP experience wasn’t about choosing between chaos and structure, but learning to navigate both. I had to embrace spontaneous exploration while refining it into something functional, finding a rhythm where creativity and logic could coexist—without one completely derailing the other.