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ARTWORK of JooJu Creations
Our work reflects a personal healing journey, and each commissioned piece is inspired by the unique narratives of our clients. Whether it’s a special event, adventure, love story, family memory, grief, celebration, or the journey of your entire life—your story serves as the heart of the artwork. Through every creation, our mission is to bring joy, healing, and a sense of connection.
ColumbiaGorge_WankersWall
The Mertz in Machu Picchu -Commissioned Art
We are honored to share a special story that’s close to our heart. Our dear friend, Emily, has entrusted us with creating a piece that celebrates the life of her father, who suddenly passed away due to illness. He was a musician, a beloved dad, grandpa, and husband, who is deeply missed by his family. Though he never made it to Machu Picchu, it was a place he always dreamed of visiting.
This piece incorporates elements that were close to his heart, including his favorite animal—a pink pig, the serene beauty of lavenders, and his passion for playing the banjo. As a proud graduate of OSU, its baseball cap is also a meaningful part of the artwork.
This piece incorporates elements that were close to his heart, including his favorite animal—a pink pig, the serene beauty of lavenders, and his passion for playing the banjo. As a proud graduate of OSU, its baseball cap is also a meaningful part of the artwork.
The 5 Peaks
It was one of those days where being with a group felt lonelier than being alone. I couldn’t find the right moment to join their conversation. And when I finally spoke, there was no joy in sharing—just an empty, hollow echo that faded into the air. Whether intentional or not, those hidden rejections were definitely felt. But that’s okay. It happens.
I reminded myself that I was here, on one of the most beautiful trails in the area, surrounded by vibrant colors and shapes. Juneau, my Boston Terrier, was exceptionally joyful, playing with her cousin Ipa, a Labradoodle.
Just before reaching the top, I noticed the best backpacking campground was occupied by another group—a lucky team. A few more steps, and finally, the Five Peaks revealed their beauty under the blue sky. Sometimes, when we lose connection with people, we find a deeper appreciation in nature.
See, it was another lucky day after all.
I reminded myself that I was here, on one of the most beautiful trails in the area, surrounded by vibrant colors and shapes. Juneau, my Boston Terrier, was exceptionally joyful, playing with her cousin Ipa, a Labradoodle.
Just before reaching the top, I noticed the best backpacking campground was occupied by another group—a lucky team. A few more steps, and finally, the Five Peaks revealed their beauty under the blue sky. Sometimes, when we lose connection with people, we find a deeper appreciation in nature.
See, it was another lucky day after all.
McIntyre Ridge Trail
It was a beautiful, sunny day, yet winter still held its grip, with snow blanketing everything. Naturally, we encountered a poor driver who didn’t quite know how to maneuver on ice, slowly slipping down a hill and heading straight for us. No worries, though—we managed it well, with a fair bit of anger management practice.
Did I mention it was sunny but still snowy? Because, of course, it’s winter. As we continued, we spotted some young men wearing shorts and T-shirts. Hopefully, they weren’t far from their car!
The trail was covered in snow, which thrilled Juneau, my Boston Terrier, to no end. She sniffed and walked ahead, but always kept her distance, regularly turning back to make sure I was “following” her properly. How lucky we are to have been chosen by her.
We met many people and dogs along the trail—a little one carried by their mom, and even a big one carried by mom, too! The big dog, possibly even larger than the mom herself, had hurt its paw and refused to finish the hike. But the determined, mighty mom decided to carry her, and she did.
It was just a simple, sunny day in the snow. Everyone was happy, enjoying their time in the magical white dust. A typical lovely winter day in Oregon.
Did I mention it was sunny but still snowy? Because, of course, it’s winter. As we continued, we spotted some young men wearing shorts and T-shirts. Hopefully, they weren’t far from their car!
The trail was covered in snow, which thrilled Juneau, my Boston Terrier, to no end. She sniffed and walked ahead, but always kept her distance, regularly turning back to make sure I was “following” her properly. How lucky we are to have been chosen by her.
We met many people and dogs along the trail—a little one carried by their mom, and even a big one carried by mom, too! The big dog, possibly even larger than the mom herself, had hurt its paw and refused to finish the hike. But the determined, mighty mom decided to carry her, and she did.
It was just a simple, sunny day in the snow. Everyone was happy, enjoying their time in the magical white dust. A typical lovely winter day in Oregon.
Marion Lake
It’s always great to be with friends who have journeyed through the heavy moments of life together. There’s no need to talk much or explain ourselves. We pace together, act together, and laugh together without any extra warning. And that’s enough. It’s enough for the trip and for life.
We might not talk to each other all the time; it might even feel like we’ve almost been forgotten. But then, we reunite, as naturally as taking a breath. And once again, we do everything together, just as if we’ve been doing it all along.
Our imagination thrives freely when we’re together. Everything becomes a fun toy—even a wooden bridge transforms into a natural xylophone. We each do whatever we like, without needing to do the same thing at the same time, respecting each other’s play while enjoying our own time and space, standing by. Individually, we exist, yet together, we are whole.
We might not talk to each other all the time; it might even feel like we’ve almost been forgotten. But then, we reunite, as naturally as taking a breath. And once again, we do everything together, just as if we’ve been doing it all along.
Our imagination thrives freely when we’re together. Everything becomes a fun toy—even a wooden bridge transforms into a natural xylophone. We each do whatever we like, without needing to do the same thing at the same time, respecting each other’s play while enjoying our own time and space, standing by. Individually, we exist, yet together, we are whole.
Columbia Gorge
Sometimes, life surprises you with joy and love, only to later reveal hurtful betrayal and mistrust. And then, the time comes to say goodbye. Could I have stayed? Perhaps, if I were still the person I once was. But I’ve grown. I’ve learned to love myself, recognizing how strong and independent I’ve become.
For the first time in my life, I could hear my own voice, a voice that had always been too quiet, buried under the weight of others’ opinions. And so, I moved on. Yes, I still feel sad for the loss of good friends and inspiration, but I earned my best, dearest friend—myself. And that was enough for this chapter.
I still remember our beautiful summer days at the Columbia River—windsurfing, stand-up paddleboarding, mountain biking, kayaking, and cooking great meals together. Oh, I wish you the best, my friends. Our days were too short, but they were indeed splendid.
For the first time in my life, I could hear my own voice, a voice that had always been too quiet, buried under the weight of others’ opinions. And so, I moved on. Yes, I still feel sad for the loss of good friends and inspiration, but I earned my best, dearest friend—myself. And that was enough for this chapter.
I still remember our beautiful summer days at the Columbia River—windsurfing, stand-up paddleboarding, mountain biking, kayaking, and cooking great meals together. Oh, I wish you the best, my friends. Our days were too short, but they were indeed splendid.
Multnomah Fall & Larch mountain
I had a red ’98 Ford Ranger. Driving outside the city was a big deal because money was tight, and gas wasn’t cheap. Yet, I still went—using saved coins and small bills that could have bought me a better meal plan. I packed everything I had for “wilderness” travel and set out for Larch Mountain. It would be a long hike, 14 miles with a 4,056 ft ascent.
Pacing myself, carrying just enough water and snacks, I passed waterfalls, a person fishing, others walking their dogs, and a couple enjoying the day. Then, they all faded away. It was just me, my breath, the smell of my sweat, and a sea of green. I felt relieved. For the first time in a while, I was making progress—something I desperately needed. Life had been stuck, full of waiting, unknowns, limbo, and potential failure. But here, on this trail, I was moving forward. I needed this.
I was almost there. I could feel the top approaching. But then, I started seeing people again—a couple here, a person there, and oddly, more kids. Then, someone in heels and another in cleats with a bike suit. Wait, what’s happening? And then, I stepped into a paved parking lot.
Yes, Larch Mountain isn’t in the wilderness. It has a parking lot just three minutes from the top. Most people visit by car or bicycle. Not many by foot.
Coming to this country was my choice, and I worked and studied hard every day, just to get to the starting line, barely hanging on. And then, I meet people who naturally stand on it, strolling around. Well, life is like that. Some have the right information; some don’t. Some pay a lot to be there; some are just there. But that’s okay. I have more stories to share.
Pacing myself, carrying just enough water and snacks, I passed waterfalls, a person fishing, others walking their dogs, and a couple enjoying the day. Then, they all faded away. It was just me, my breath, the smell of my sweat, and a sea of green. I felt relieved. For the first time in a while, I was making progress—something I desperately needed. Life had been stuck, full of waiting, unknowns, limbo, and potential failure. But here, on this trail, I was moving forward. I needed this.
I was almost there. I could feel the top approaching. But then, I started seeing people again—a couple here, a person there, and oddly, more kids. Then, someone in heels and another in cleats with a bike suit. Wait, what’s happening? And then, I stepped into a paved parking lot.
Yes, Larch Mountain isn’t in the wilderness. It has a parking lot just three minutes from the top. Most people visit by car or bicycle. Not many by foot.
Coming to this country was my choice, and I worked and studied hard every day, just to get to the starting line, barely hanging on. And then, I meet people who naturally stand on it, strolling around. Well, life is like that. Some have the right information; some don’t. Some pay a lot to be there; some are just there. But that’s okay. I have more stories to share.
Wahkeena Fall/Devil's Rest
The Columbia Gorge, Wahkeena Falls, and Devil’s Rest—places where waterfalls and creeks grace the trail at every turn. Photo spots abound, and many visitors turn back once they’ve captured a picture with a gorgeous waterfall. But I kept walking, passing one steep switchback after another, my legs moving out of necessity, not vision.
I missed my people, my culture, the connections I left behind in my home country. The beauty of the trail was bittersweet. It was a trade: I could have stayed with my people but without the trail, and here I was on the trail, but without my people. At that time, I didn’t yet know how long it would take to build a community here. Had I known, I wonder if I would have chosen this path.
Yet, I’m glad I took the journey. It was hard. Reaching the top was a bit—or perhaps a huge—disappointment. But the path I walked was full of hope, love, and enjoyment. And what a memory it has become.
I missed my people, my culture, the connections I left behind in my home country. The beauty of the trail was bittersweet. It was a trade: I could have stayed with my people but without the trail, and here I was on the trail, but without my people. At that time, I didn’t yet know how long it would take to build a community here. Had I known, I wonder if I would have chosen this path.
Yet, I’m glad I took the journey. It was hard. Reaching the top was a bit—or perhaps a huge—disappointment. But the path I walked was full of hope, love, and enjoyment. And what a memory it has become.
Horse Tail
Rainy days are not uncommon in Portland, OR. They wouldn’t stop me from venturing into nature. But sometimes, nature has its own plans. A landslide blocked the trail, forcing me to pause—a moment of stillness I hadn’t anticipated.
It was a gorgeous day, the kind that feels like a secret just for you. I walked alone, meeting only a big grey heron along the way. Society felt so far away, with trains and barge ships like toys in the distance. The rain kissed my face, cooling my skin and making my hands a bit colder, though not enough to bother me.
With the trail impassable, I found a tree to sit under, letting the raindrops tap against my raincoat. The pause, once a disruption, became an invitation to listen—to the rhythm of the rain, the quiet of the world. I looked up at the sky with closed eyes, each drop a note in a song, reminding me that I am alive.
It was a gorgeous day, the kind that feels like a secret just for you. I walked alone, meeting only a big grey heron along the way. Society felt so far away, with trains and barge ships like toys in the distance. The rain kissed my face, cooling my skin and making my hands a bit colder, though not enough to bother me.
With the trail impassable, I found a tree to sit under, letting the raindrops tap against my raincoat. The pause, once a disruption, became an invitation to listen—to the rhythm of the rain, the quiet of the world. I looked up at the sky with closed eyes, each drop a note in a song, reminding me that I am alive.
PNW mushroom
Shaggy Mane
PNW mushroom
Fairy Ring
PNW mushroom
The Prince
PNW mushroom
Gray Shaggy Parasol
PNW mushroom
White Shaggy Parasol
Soul in Seoul
Hug
Soul in Seoul
Lead Your Life
Soul in Seoul
Open My Mind
Soul in Seoul
An Affair
Soul in Seoul
Portrait Listen to Yourself
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