Meet Jingzhi Hu

Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Jingzhi Hu. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Jingzhi, we’re thrilled to have you on our platform and we think there is so much folks can learn from you and your story. Something that matters deeply to us is living a life and leading a career filled with purpose and so let’s start by chatting about how you found your purpose.

It all began during the winter break of my freshman year of college. A few friends and I, newly bonded in the first semester, had planned an impromptu road trip — a four-hour drive from campus to somewhere new, somewhere unknown. I had never taken a trip like that before, and despite the short distance, I was filled with nervous excitement.

The night before our departure, I felt a sharp discomfort twisting through my stomach. But I’m always too anxious to sleep before traveling, so I brushed it off without much thought. Yet, just two hours before we were set to leave, I woke up trembling. The pain had sharpened into something undeniable. I told my roommate I needed to use the bathroom, but when I staggered inside, I never made it back. I collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching my stomach as cold sweat soaked through my clothes. I called out weakly. My roommate rushed in to find me kneeling there, gasping for air, paralyzed by pain.

An hour later, I was lying on a bed in the emergency room. The doctors told me there was a mass in my abdomen – thirty centimeters long. Thirty centimeters. A number that burned itself into my memory. A mass almost the length of my forearm, growing silently inside me, unseen, unheard. They couldn’t yet tell what it was. More tests were needed. The pain was unbearable, flooding my entire body until only painkillers could keep me afloat. I remembered grabbing my friends’ arms and crying, telling them I was scared. In that moment, I truly believed I was going to die.

And my first thought was simple: I wasn’t even twenty, and in my short life, I had accomplished nothing.

I was born and raised in China, and at fifteen, I had crossed oceans, left my parents behind in China to study in the US. I lived with people I didn’t know, thousands of miles away from home, forced to grow up before I was ready. But the truth was — emotionally, spiritually — I was still a child, unsure of who I wanted to become, unsure of what life was supposed to mean. I had been raised in the strict expectations of a traditional Asian household, where STEM careers were seen as the only respectable path. Even when my heart rebelled, I buried my true passions deep, walking the well-trodden road laid out for me, believing it was the only way to be “good enough.” But college applications and the pressure of writing personal statements forced me to pause, and ask myself, maybe for the first time: What truly makes me happy? What moments in my life that I feel I lived for myself?

I then thought of the doodles scratched into the edges of my elementary school desks; The hours spent in art studios, paints on my fingers; Weekend movies my father and I used to watch together; The film class in high school where I ran around campus with a borrowed camera, losing track of everything except the joy. It was as if someone wiped the fog off the window — and for the first time, I could see myself clearly.

I gave up my plans for STEM. In less than a year, I built a portfolio from scratch that earned me a place in the Design Media Arts program at UCLA. But an acceptance letter doesn’t erase old fears. Even in college, I spent long nights doubting myself, wondering if I had made a terrible mistake. While others marched confidently down their “proper” paths, I felt like a wanderer, adrift. For a long time, I was ashamed of being an art student. I believed every ugly stereotype — that I wasn’t smart enough, that I was wasting time, that I was chasing hedonism instead of purpose. I internalized every cruel stereotype and turned them into weapons against myself. I tore myself apart with those accusations, letting fear and self-doubt rule my heart.

But lying there in the hospital, staring at the ceiling tiles and wondering if I would live to see another sunrise, every doubt, every fear, every external expectation — all of that noise fell away.

Only two things remained:
The people I loved.
And the things I loved.

Nothing else mattered.

And I realized, with a depth of regret that cut deeper than any physical pain, that I had spent so much time doubting and fearing instead of living. If I were given a second chance, I promised myself I would not waste it. I would not hesitate. I would not apologize for wanting what I loved. I prayed — over and over again — in that cold, sterile emergency room, begging for another chance.

The rest of the story is simple. I had my first major surgery of my life just by myself, and it went smoothly. The 30-centimeter cyst — benign — was removed. I was left with scars, and it took nearly a month before I could walk again. But I survived. I was given a second chance — a mercy not everyone receives. And I have never stopped being grateful. If the pain had struck even a day later, I would have been lost in the woods, somewhere unknown, four hours away from the nearest hospital. The outcome might have been very different.

Since that day, I no longer doubt the path I am walking. I no longer question the validity of my dreams. I embrace my identity as an artist, fiercely, proudly. Because when the end stared me in the face, the only thing that mattered was the life I had not yet dared to live. A life fueled by passion. A life devoted to creating. A life spent telling the stories only I can tell. It seems that only at the edge of life do we see what truly matters. And so, when my time does come, whether tomorrow or decades from now, I know I will be able to close my eyes peacefully, having lived a life that was fully, fiercely mine.

Appreciate the insights and wisdom. Before we dig deeper and ask you about the skills that matter and more, maybe you can tell our readers about yourself?

My name is Jingzhi Hu, and I’m currently a third-year student at the UCLA Design Media Arts program. As an artist and designer, I’m passionate about exploring many creative fields, including graphic design, game design, web design, and illustration. Online, I share my work under the artist name “YAMM,” where I post school projects, personal experiments, digital illustrations, and fan art across different platforms, like Instagram, X, Weibo, RedNote, and perhaps YouTube in the future. I love pushing myself to learn new techniques, and I plan to continue updating my portfolio with new work regularly.

One of my proudest project so far has been collaborating on a free 2D mystery game called “LaughterLost” that was published on STEAM, where I served as the sole game artist. Building on that experience, I’m currently developing my personal project — a 2D pixel art game titled “Hurry! Time is Running Out,” which I expect to release on STEAM in the summer of 2025.

What excites me most about my work is the power of visual storytelling — whether it’s through an illustration, an interactive game, or a website, I want to create experiences that spark emotion, imagination, and connection. I believe art can cross boundaries and make people feel seen, and that’s the heart of everything I do as YAMM.

Looking back, what do you think were the three qualities, skills, or areas of knowledge that were most impactful in your journey? What advice do you have for folks who are early in their journey in terms of how they can best develop or improve on these?

Looking back on my journey so far, the three things that have impacted me the most are courage, the ability to sink into my work, and optimism.

First, courage. I didn’t take the traditional or “safe” path. And choosing to pursue what I truly love meant giving up a more stable and predictable life. There were so many moments when I felt scared and unsure, wondering if I was making a mistake. But deep down, I knew that if I wanted to live a life that felt true to myself, I couldn’t keep hesitating. No one can see the future clearly. Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts and stay true to the path you chose.

Second, I learned the importance of sinking into my work. I used to rush through projects. But over time, I realized that truly meaningful work needs time. It grows in those quiet hours when you slow down and give yourself enough time to create something meaningful. Don’t rush. Dig deep into learning and perfecting a piece. Too often, people try to quickly build a polished-looking portfolio, neglecting the substance and quality of their projects. Good work takes time, patience, and care.

Finally, optimism — something I’m still learning even now. Life has its ups and downs, and there have been times when I felt completely stuck, like things would never get better. But little by little, I realized that a lot of obstacles are shaped by how we choose to see them; like a sheet of paper, every situation has both a positive and negative side. If you can find even a small way to look at things more positively, many problems become a little lighter. Optimism isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It’s about holding onto hope even when things are hard, and giving yourself enough strength to keep going.

I’m still growing and figuring it out, but these are the things that have carried me this far.

How can folks who want to work with you connect?

Really appreciate having a chance to answer this question. Yes, I’m always looking for passionate and talented people who are excited to work on creative projects together. Whether it’s a game, an animation, a film, a story, a design, or a brand, and whether you’re a programmer, artist, designer, engineer, or musician, it doesn’t matter. What matters most to me is finding like-minded people who care deeply about what they do and want to build something meaningful with others who share that same passion.

Many of the greatest films, animations, and games all started with a group of friends coming together, and that’s also my dream to create projects as a team.

If you’re interested in my art style, want to collaborate on a game, or think we’d make a good team on any creative projects, feel free to reach out! You can email me at [email protected] or send me a DM on Instagram (@YAMM_622). I’d love to be part of your creative journey!

Contact Info:

• Instagram: yamm_622
• Twitter: yamm_622
• Youtube: yamm_622