For the Dreamers Who Feel Lost—This Is for You (+ Something New Awaits…)

“The world needs dreamers and the world needs doers. But above all, the world needs dreamers who do.” ― Sarah Ban Breathnach 

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, and for a while, I wondered if I should keep creating at all. The past few years have felt like a haze of self-hatred, exhaustion, and fear in the face of both my personal struggles and seeing growing tensions and divisions here in the U.S. and beyond.

As an American-born artist of Chinese descent who is also bi, the days have felt heavy—not only in navigating my own identity amidst the casual sinophobia and xenophobia, but in the broader reality of witnessing how many marginalized communities in the U.S. continue to be targeted, vilified, and torn apart.

And yet, even in the midst of all this, I know darkness is never the full story. There is still kindness, courage, and empathy among those who choose to care for each other, seek deeper understanding, and build community. But when division and cruelty take center stage, it’s easy to feel like the good doesn’t exist.

I’ve always been open about my struggle with imposter syndrome with that nagging voice asking whether what I create really matters, especially when the world’s cruelty and repeating cycles of violence make it easy to believe that nothing will ever change. But then I recall the many beautiful stories some of you have shared with me over the years or even about how my work has impacted or inspired you to keep fighting.

And so, I found myself reflecting on why I started Lumecluster in the first place. Lumecluster was born out of a desire to remind you of the magic that makes you who you are and to let your dreams shine brightly in a world that often tries to dim it. Most of all, it’s about holding onto hope. 

While I'm excited to be back to share what's next and how I’m reconnecting with my roots, I'm also here to share the journey to finding purpose again even when it feels like everything is falling apart.

Lost in the Dream I Thought I Was Living

"…many of us writers of Chinese descent who are Americans feel compelled to tell stories that in some way, fit with the perceived or accepted conventional story that people expect from writers like us…They want to hear the story about how folks struggled to ‘become American.’ They want to hear stories about ‘exotic’ Chinese customs…And naturally, of course, what that means is many of us become resistant. We deliberately don't want to tell stories like that. Because nobody wants to be defined by other people's expectations...

So that ends up becoming a great fear for me. I deliberately wrote all my stories with no ’Chinese elements’ in them at all. And that was how all my earliest stories were…But in doing so, I was, in fact, being driven entirely by other people's expectations, just in a negative way…So it feels like I'm dancing with one foot tied behind my back. Or speaking with only half of my brain." —Ken Liu

Looking back on everything I’ve created since Lumecluster began in November 2012, I really do appreciate how far I've come. What started as a simple “doodle blog” became something I never could have imagined.

It's hard to believe it started with me just experimenting with different mediums in my spare time, writing inspirational posts with whatever little wisdom I thought I had in my 20s, and wondering if I could ever truly call myself an artist. 

Eventually, all that led me to create my first Dreamer Mask, which opened up a new world of possibilities. One of those first possibilities was collaborating with Natasha Hope Simpson and Thinking Robot Studios to design her prosthetic leg. That experience alone deepened my fascination with the adventurous dreamer within each of us and it would go on to shape much of my work moving forward.

Each new step in the journey felt unreal. From creating for musician Jihae and actor Norman Reedus in their music video to designing my fantasy Dreamer Regalia for actress Felicia Day. And then there was the experience of bringing my fantasy Sovereign Armor to life, which shined a spotlight on me that I wasn’t prepared for.

I also look back on the challenge of working way outside my comfort zone when I had to create pieces for Marvel Becoming projects.

And of course, there was the joy of geeking out with Adam Savage over my growing number of historically-inspired fantasy armor designs, filming my work for Tested on Oculus VR, and taking my first serious dive into jewelry-making with my articulated Descendent of the Dragon armor ring.

Above all, it's been such a privilege seeing my designs being worn and enjoyed by clients from around the world and sharing my excitement for learning new things. The journey of exploring is always so fun...unless, of course, you lose your way. And I did.

Over the years, I’ve “gone viral” a number of times and was often featured in articles, videos, and interviews. And while it felt validating, something about it started throwing me off. I started feeling trapped by the relentless pressure to keep creating and pushing out the next "big design." Expressing this frustration to the wrong people only got me comments of “you should just be grateful for the attention.” So I “sucked it up.”

Eventually, I wasn’t creating in a way that made me happy anymore. The customer purchases, likes, shares, comments, and thoughtful letters / emails were appreciated, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that I was producing for the algorithm instead of for me or you.

The Spiral of Self-Loathing and Depression

“I think, as writers or really as creatives of any kind, there are primarily two modes in which you engage in creativity: One is out of fear, and the other is out of love. When you're doing so out of fear, it is not likely to lead to your best work. And I think so many of us, when we start out or even later on, when we're driven by the need to get recognition…I think these things are actually all sources of fear…

And so once I stopped focusing on what other people wanted to say about my stuff, and I just focused on what I wanted to say and how I felt about it, whether I told the story I wanted to tell… If I could do that, I was happy…the less you fear and care about other people's opinions, the more you will do it out of love.” —Ken Liu

I reached a breaking point where it felt like the magic was all gone and I found myself questioning everything. I didn’t make any announcements online, I just disappeared from social media entirely in 2022 from extreme burnout. On top of that, my real life was just one thing after another. While the rational voice in my head was saying that I needed time for recovery, the fearful voice started filling the growing emptiness inside:

Did I ruin everything by taking an online hiatus?

Should I have just kept doing the same thing even though it no longer brought me joy?

Do they think I’m ungrateful? 

Will they call me a failure?

What's the point?

From 2016-2022, I tried my best to wear my “everything is fine” face even though my creative process was constantly clouded by fear and a desire to prove myself. I didn’t know how to escape it and wrote it off as growing pains that I simply needed to power through.

During those years, I constantly bit off more than I could chew and would accept increasingly challenging projects or commissions, rather than paying attention to my growing unhappiness and burnout. Deep down, I knew that I never quite adjusted to the media coverage and attention some of my best work got and it had taken its toll on me.

Instead of taking a break, I pushed harder to keep one-upping myself and was convinced that making anything less would be seen as a waste of others' time, money, and attention.

My work, which once felt like a clear expression of who I was, seemed more terrifying and unfamiliar with each passing year. By 2022, it got to a point where I couldn't look at any of my creations anymore without being overwhelmed with shame. The faceless critics only helped to reinforce my fear and I let them drown out the voices of support that truly mattered.

The Wake-Up Call

“All of us have stories like these that define our values and who we are. The protagonists in these stories—teachers, parents, friends, lovers—are our guides in our life’s journey. They are the gods and heroes of our own epic fantasy. As we craft our own life forward, we learn to emulate these stories in our own lives, and as we grow older and embody these virtues and live them out, we in turn become the protagonists of myths and stories that inspire others who come after us. This is how culture is passed on, how each generation renews the hope of those who come before it.” —Ken Liu

Then came an unexpected wake-up call. After navigating a challenging few years marked by various tragedies, the loss of several loved ones, and spiraling depression, I thought I had endured my share of grief. But nothing prepared me for the day my mother suddenly contracted an unknown life threatening illness.

One moment she was fine, the next we were rushing her to the ER. It happened so fast, I barely had time to process the fear or grasp the severity of what was happening. This hit me harder than I expected—not just because she’s my mother, but because of how close we are. We’ve always shared a unique bond where we could talk about anything and everything. So seeing her barely responsive and rapidly deteriorating left me in a state of shock, but I knew I needed to snap out of it.

I stood by her ER stretcher, holding her hand as she went through every test and examination to identify this mystery illness. The doctors later told me that if we had waited any longer, she would not have survived. Though she faced a long hospital stay and would require outpatient care, they assured me she would make a full recovery.

I wanted to comfort her with the good news as she went in and out of consciousness. Instead, she used what little strength she had to ask if I was okay and patted my hand to comfort ME. That simple act broke something in me.

Why had I spent so much energy worrying about what others might think and tearing myself down? For too long, I was caught up trying to explain myself to people who had no interest in understanding, all while the people who truly loved me were right there in front of me, asking for nothing more than my presence.

A Journey Back to Myself

“I was trying to re-center myself on the love that my grandmother gave me for storytelling. What it was like to hear her tell me stories when I was a kid, and what it was like for me to take her stories, modify them, and tell them to my friends and entertain them. What it felt like to read old fairy tales, and to retell versions of those fairy tales with my own twist. What it felt like to make up stories, myself as a five year old and illustrating them with color pencils. And I was trying to rediscover all those joyful things that I used to do.” —Ken Liu

My mother trying to comfort me while she was in that ER stretcher was a sobering reminder that while I had been getting lost in the race to prove myself to all the wrong people, I had forgotten the folks who truly loved me and the moments that first inspired me with wonder. The “why” behind my work had been lost in the pressure to just keep making.

Don’t get me wrong. I love getting lost in the details and research behind every design. But somewhere along the way, I started to focus too much on the “what” (the methods, the proof of research, the production, the outward results) and forgot to reconnect with the “why” behind it all.

Why was I drawn to these stories, this research, these details in the first place? I remembered that the heart of the work I wanted to create was not just about the detailing, articulation or even the final outcome, but about creating something that makes people stop, reflect, and think about what’s really important.

Like thinking about the people who inspire us to help one another, the stories that give us joy and hope for tomorrow, the experiences that open our minds to new perspectives, the lessons in life that can come from anyone and anywhere, the memories that bring us back when it all feels lost…

When I took time to step back, I could finally remember how I wanted to create magic, beauty, and comfort in a world that is so full of chaos, fear, and danger. This reminder hit especially hard because my mother, the person who always encouraged my creativity, was lying in that hospital bed. She was the first one to spark the curiosity in me to always seek knowledge and strive to be good.

She always believed in me and my dreams 100% because she didn’t want me to live a life of unfulfilled dreams like she did.

Comfort Art: Finding Magic and Joy in Life Again

“We don’t know exactly what the other side looks like, but we can be sure that those values and stories will continue to inspire and matter to ourselves and those who come after us, once we’re through it. If we want certain values to go on to be meaningful—if we care about love, compassion, and empathy—then we have to keep enacting those things in our lives.” —Ken Liu

In Patricia Bjaaland Welch’s book, Chinese Art: A Guide to Motifs and Visual Imagery, she said something that stayed with me:

“I have written [this book] not only because I love this subject, but because I want anyone who ever picks up a Chinese vase or peers at a porcelain plate through the museum glass to understand the traditions and beliefs that lie behind the decorations chosen to enhance the artifact. I also feel a responsibility to preserve the meaning of these symbols for future generations - to be, in the words of Dr. George Vaillant, a ‘keeper of the meaning.’”

Throughout the centuries, Chinese art has long been created to provide “comfort at heart” in a dangerous world, offering deeply meaningful symbols of hope, protection, resilience, and more. While I don’t aspire to preserve meaning in the same way as Patricia Bjaaland Welch, I aim to draw from this tradition of creating “comfort art” while also shaping it into something personal and reflective of my journey.

But before I could embrace this next stage, I needed time to let some things go. 
I had to let go of my fear of not being enough—not “American enough,” not “Chinese enough,” not a “real artist” or “real jewelry designer” because I didn’t have the "proper training.” I needed time to actually process where I’d been and where I was going. Most of all, I had to stop trying to fit myself into neat little boxes. Life is too precious, especially when there are far more important things that deserve our energy.

Aesthetically, this new chapter of Lumecluster will be an evolution of what has always been at the heart of my work. Weaving different elements together in meaningful ways and appreciating the rich histories and craftsmanship behind arms and armor, pianos, numerous Chinese artistic traditions, and other beautifully crafted creations from around the world.

At the same time, it’s also about building off of some of my most cherished creations that sparked this journey in the first place and expanding them in new directions. As I embark on this next chapter, I am excited to share how it manifests in my latest work.

Sneak peek: The Dreamer Collection (launching March 20, 2025)

“...we all must deal with labels and prejudices others impose on us, and to struggle against self-hatred, to resist the cowardly desire to conform, to realize that our parents also have their own stories, to find how to fit our own story into all the stories out there, to grow in wisdom and strength until we are worthy of the love we’re given.” —Ken Liu

The Dreamer Collection is a tribute to the love, strength, and hope we receive from others, as well as a reminder of the hope we, in turn, can inspire. Did you spot any of the other new designs hidden in the photos of me sitting in my space? :) And it feels only right to launch the collection on March 20th, the first day of spring since it's a season of hope and renewal.

These first bronze designs are just the beginning of a collection I plan to expand over time, building upon some of my most well-known work. Some of you may recognize elements from my Sovereign Armor designs, my Dreamer Masks, and even my miniature vessels for protection and healing, which I originally created to help raise funds for friends battling cancer.

These initial pieces are designed to be striking on their own, but they also serve as beautiful canvases for patina, something I’ll be sharing more in the coming weeks on Instagram, Facebook, and Bluesky. I chose bronze because it is a metal that's deeply rooted in Chinese history as a symbol of power, ritual, and legacy. But I also love it for its rich tones and patina potential, which add depth, character, and history to each piece. Patinated bronze evolves over time just like us.

I’ll be sharing more details and research behind my inspirations, particularly the Chinese influences that have long shaped my work but often went unnoticed next to the more widely recognized Gothic armor elements. Stay tuned for a deep dive into these influences leading up to launch day, and keep an eye out for a full blog post on March 9th.

The Sovereign Dreamer Brooch & Pendants:

If you're familiar with my work, you might recognize this as a reimagining of the Sovereign Armor's facemask. I’ve always wanted to refine its design since I was never fully satisfied with its shape or details. The back of the brooch, meanwhile, features the intricate detailing from the Sovereign Armor’s breastplate.

Some of the Inspirations behind the Sovereign Dreamer Brooch & Pendant:

My past work and my current collection continues to weave together my love for Chinese Cantonese opera heroes (first collage), deities / guardian statues (second collage), and the Chinese art and furniture I grew up seeing at home (third collage).

Headdress photos I took at The Cantonese Opera Art Museum. Photos of Cantonese Opera figures are from Chinese Opera by Jessica Tan Gudnason, Gong Li

Reference images from The Met Museum's Guardian, Bodhisattva Guanyin, and Bodhisattva Skanda

The Chinese art and furniture I grew up seeing at home

The Hope Potion Pendants:

A long-awaited redesign of a potion / bottle pendant I've been wanting to revisit for years. I’ll also be expanding into a variety of bottle designs inspired by the rich history of Chinese snuff bottles and other vessels.

Some of the Inspiration for the Hope Potion Pendants and future pendants:

Reference images from The Met Museum's Small Delights: Chinese Snuff Bottles

IMPORTANT: Mark your calendars for March 20th, and if you want early access and a special free gift, be sure to join my LC VIP newsletter. 

Honoring Our Dreams and The Light We Carry

“Figure out the story you want to tell and tell the story you want to tell. And it has to be truly the story that makes sense to you, that fulfills your destiny, that is part of your own epic journey because you are the hero of your own epic fantasy and the story you tell matters." —Ken Liu

You’ll soon see a full blog post on the Dreamer Collection the day before it officially launches. But for now, I hope you take away this:

Cherish those that have uplifted you, and be true to yourself. But also, learn to step back once in a while.

In a chaotic world, it's just as important to pause and reflect as it is to keep moving forward. Lumecluster has always been about empowering the Dreamer within us all, and this new chapter is a reminder that sometimes, stepping back to reconnect with what matters most can reignite the light we carry. Not just for ourselves, but for others too.

Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you’ll join me again on this new adventure as I learn, create, and share with you. We’re all works in progress and that’s okay. Here’s to embracing our many facets, honoring our inner magic, and continuing to chase our dreams.

With gratitude and hope,
Melissa Ng

P.S. I'd love to hear from you. What part of yourself have you been missing lately and how can you start bringing it back? Feel free to reply to the newsletter or drop a comment below.

P.P.S. If you're wondering why I’ve quoted author Ken Liu so often, it's because his work and interviews deeply resonated with me and provided comfort during some of my darkest moments. His words became a guiding light, helping me reconnect with who I am. While I shared his insights as a point of reflection for you, I also shared it as a personal reminder for myself to help guide me back if I ever get lost again.