Sophia Hotung exists in the spaces between.

From a young age, she has straddled two worlds; neither fully Asian nor entirely white, she self-identifies as a Eurasian “egg”—white on the outside, yellow on the inside. Living with chronic illness, she often feels “not disabled enough” to receive accommodations, yet too unwell enough to conform to society’s expectations of productivity. This duality permeates geographically, as Sophia splits her time between Hong Kong—a city layered with memories and meaning—and San Francisco, a city slippery with unfamiliarity but ripe with opportunity.

Sophia’s identity defies categorization—much like her hometown of Hong Kong, where modern skyscrapers rise against centuries-old traditions, creating a city fractured between past and present. This constant negotiation of identities has shaped not only who Sophia is, but also how she views the world. Through her collection The Hong Konger, which reimagines The New Yorker magazine covers, Sophia transforms stories of belonging, resilience, and identity into vibrant works of art. Behind every piece lies a deeply personal narrative about grappling with chronic illness, defying societal expectations, and embracing her multifaceted heritage. For Sophia, art is beyond expression; it is a bridge that connects her inner world to the broader human experience.

A Eurasian Perspective: Navigating Dual Identities
Born into the storied Hotung family—a name synonymous with Hong Kong’s history—Sophia sees herself as an egg: “White on the outside, yellow on the inside.” Growing up in a multicultural household, she never felt fully Chinese nor entirely Western, creating a sense of duality that has shaped her understanding of what it means to be a Hong Konger.

“I didn't realize that I looked white to people outside of my family until I was about 13 years old,” Sophia explains. “I went abroad, and no one believed I was from Hong Kong…It’s very weird when who you think you are as a person doesn't line up with what the entire world thinks you are.” For years, she navigated this liminal existence, feeling like an outsider everywhere she went. In England, despite blending in physically, she struggled to connect culturally; in America, she bonded with other diasporic Asians over shared experiences of displacement.

After spending years grappling with her identity, Sophia has chosen to adopt a philosophy centered on connection rather than universal appeal. “At the end of the day, I just need one person to buy it—if this artwork reflects a memory or an experience or a facet of someone's identity, whether they feel like an outsider or insider, that's fine,” she says. “I don’t need to appeal to everyone.”

From Tech Analyst to Full-Time Artist: An Unexpected Pivot
Prior to becoming an artist, Sophia worked as a tech analyst—a career path that feels worlds apart from her current life. She labels the transition an “accident”: an unplanned career change thrust upon her by unforeseen circumstances. Diagnosed with autoimmune diseases at 16, Sophia spent years battling undiagnosed symptoms while pushing herself academically and professionally. By 26, she found herself bedridden and unemployed, grappling with several chronic illnesses.

“I felt like I couldn't do anything anymore, and it made me very frustrated,” she admits. “It made me feel very creatively unable to express myself.” During this dark period, she received an iPad as a gift for Christmas. Initially intended as a distraction, it became a lifeline. Using Procreate, Sophia taught herself to draw, starting with simple sketches and gradually developing her signature style.

Sophia’s idea to reimagine The New Yorker covers to reflect Hong Kong’s quirks and complexities dates back to her university days. “The idea was quite old. One of the things I've always done is keep an idea log—if I ever have an idea for something, I put it in the book,” she explains. “And so that went in the book, and eventually I drew it.”

One early piece featured a girl staring at a lavish Chinese banquet, her mind conjuring a McDonald’s Happy Meal instead. The image humorously captured Sophia’s experience with celiac disease, which isolates her from cultural staples like dim sum and soy sauce-laden dishes. “Eating is such a huge part of Chinese culture, so it makes me feel frustrated,” she explains. “That feeling of looking out on a huge banquet of abalone and not being able to eat it was in my mind when I created that.”

What started as a creative outlet during illness evolved into a full-fledged career. As Sophia continued experimenting with digital art, her reinterpretations of The New Yorker covers gained traction online. Encouraged by the response, Sophia eventually applied to her first art fair, took on commissions, and published her first book.

“I think I was faking it till I made it so much that I can't actually remember when I felt like I made it,” she explains. “By the time I had a contract with a gallery and a commission split and money coming in from art sales, I thought, ‘That means I'm a working artist, so I guess that's my job.’”

The Hong Konger Collection: A Love Letter to Home
What began as a drawing exercise evolved into The Hong Konger, a series celebrating the city’s idiosyncrasies. From a taxi driver’s windshield cluttered with eleven devices to a swimmer preparing to dive off a high-rise building, each piece reflects Sophia’s humor and keen observation of Hong Kong life, with richer meanings embedded beneath the surface.

Take Lion Rock Station, for example, which shows an MTR station perched improbably atop the namesake hill. On the surface, it’s a comical nod to Hong Kong’s urban landscape. But beneath the humor lies a critique of accessibility—or lack thereof. “A lot of MTR stations in Hong Kong are called accessible, but they’re not,” Sophia explains, recalling a recent experience where she had to lug her rollator—a wheeled walking aid—up flights of stairs after an escalater broke down. “These frustrations seep into my work without being overtly stated.”

For Sophia, The Hong Konger isn’t just about showcasing Hong Kong’s quirks; it’s about preserving her memories. Every street corner holds significance, whether it’s the hospital where her grandmother was born or the school her grandfather attended decades ago.

“Everywhere I go in Hong Kong feels layered,” she muses. “It feels like there's a story, and it feels like I can pull on that to create art.”

Advocacy Through Art: Bridging Creativity and Causes
Sophia has made waves not only as an artist, but as an advocate for causes close to her heart: disability rights, women’s empowerment, and representation of Hong Kong in global narratives. Through her company, Pangolin Society, she channels proceeds from her art into funds that support local charities, including organizations like the SPCA, Women’s Foundation, and Equal Justice Hong Kong. Each project is tailored to meet specific needs, ensuring mutual benefit while amplifying the missions of these groups.

One standout collaboration was Where’s Wags?, a playful homage to Where’s Waldo . Hidden within the mural were 103 items related to pet inclusivity, raising awareness for the SPCA’s efforts to lobby for more pet-friendly policies. Similarly, her partnership with the Women’s Foundation ventured into the realm of NFTs, generating passive income streams for the charity. These initiatives demonstrate Sophia’s ability to blend creativity with practicality, crafting solutions that resonate with both audiences and beneficiaries.

“I wasn't going out of my way to be an advocate—it just sort of happened,” she admits. “I saw a business opportunity that happened to be with charities. I love the sort of causes I work for—these are things I care about.” By blending creativity with practicality, Sophia proves that art can serve both as a tool for personal expression and a force for meaningful change.

Living with Chronic Illness: Lessons in Resilience
Chronic illness remains a defining aspect of Sophia’s life, shaping not only her worldview but also her artistic philosophy. Before accepting her condition, she berated herself relentlessly, striving for perfection despite deteriorating health.

“One of the biggest changes mentally for me was to realize being sick doesn't make me a bad person,” she emphasizes. “Disabled people are considered unfortunate or inconvenient or lazy, and it’s really not the case—I think we need to look at the idea of disability a lot more neutrally than we currently do.” This sense of acceptance helped free her from self-imposed guilt, allowing her to embrace sustainability in both life and work.

Today, Sophia operates on a flexible schedule, balancing doctor appointments with creative pursuits. Living between Hong Kong and San Francisco affords her the best of both worlds: proximity to her hometown’s inspiration and access to California’s medical resources. Though challenging, this arrangement underscores her adaptability—a trait honed through years of uncertainty.

Beyond Legacy: Crafting Identity and Purpose
As a descendant of Sir Robert Hotung, Sophia acknowledges the weight of legacy—but she refuses to let it define her. “Growing up, no one ever really flagged it, so I thought it was just a fun fact,” she notes. “But when I was trying to promote myself as an artist, I realized people had a lot of questions about it, and I didn't really know how to handle the dynasty of it all.”

Rather than dwell on privilege, Sophia emphasizes action over introspection. Inspired by her mother—a self-made businesswoman who has led by example—she avoids getting caught up in meaningless debates about identity or worth. “Pontificating and philosophizing over abstract ideas like privilege can become a bit self-obsessed and redundant,” she reflects.

Instead, Sophia emphasizes a separation of value from productivity by embracing practical steps forward, reminding herself that overthinking these issues can ironically become an unproductive exercise. “Literally no one is thinking of you that much,” she quips, cutting through the noise with refreshing pragmatism.

Chronic Illness, Resilience, and the Power of Honest Support
For those grappling with chronic illness, Sophia acknowledges that there’s no easy answer. “When someone’s in that position, there’s nothing you can say to them—you can’t promise them anything because you don’t know what’s going to happen,” she says. “You can sympathize, but there’s really nothing you can say.”

Reflecting on her own journey, Sophia recalls hitting rock bottom at age 25 or 26, confined to her childhood bedroom, convinced her life was over. “I thought, ‘Any job I could do or would want to do requires my body to do things it can’t.’ I felt completely trapped.”

Her turning point came unexpectedly—not through a grand epiphany, but through surrender. “I gave up hope and just thought, you know what? Screw it. I'm just gonna be on an iPad all day and watch TV, and I don't care anymore,” she admits. Ironically, this act of letting go became the catalyst for her eventual climb out of despair. “That was when I started to climb out of the hole, without even realizing it.”

What Sophia emphasizes most is the importance of knowing that a way forward exists, even if it feels unimaginable at the time. She credits her mother’s unwavering support during her darkest days, urging others to accept help without guilt to free up mental space and ease anxiety. “Once you accept your position, I think it's easier to see more clearly where you can go from there.”

Ultimately, Sophia advocates for honesty over forced positivity. “I remember the first time someone said to me, ‘Yeah, it sucks,’” she says. “To have someone recognize and validate that…was huge for me.” This raw acknowledgment of pain, she believes, helps people feel seen and opens the door to healing.

Looking Ahead: Completing the Circle
With the release of The (Unlikely) Hong Konger, Sophia ties together threads of her story thus far. Featuring 112 artworks—including pieces never before seen—and accompanying anecdotes,  the book encapsulates her journey as an artist and storyteller.

“It feels complete,” she says proudly.

As she continues splitting her time between Hong Kong and San Francisco, Sophia remains committed to amplifying underrepresented voices, using her platform to advocate for causes close to her heart. Each day brings new stories to tell, new challenges to face, and new ways to honor the city—and the identity—that shaped her.

If Sophia could travel back in time to the initial days when chronic illness brought uncertainty into her life, she knows exactly what she’d tell her younger self: “Everything works out,"—a testament to Sophia’s resilience, adaptability, and faith in the unknown.

“My main fear,” she reflects, "was that nothing would ever work out. If I just went back and said, ‘Look, everything works out. Just roll with it,’' I think it would reassure me to some degree.” Today, she often reminds herself of this same truth, operating as though a future version of herself has stepped into the room to say, “Everything works out.”

Through her art, advocacy, and unyielding spirit, Sophia shows that existing in the in-between is its own kind of wholeness. Her story is a celebration of complexity—a testament to embracing uncertainty, finding purpose even when life doesn’t go as planned and trusting that, no matter what, everything will work out.