The Nature of Art, The Art of Nature, and Being A Natural Artist
My reflection on commercialization, realization, and liberation in regards to my creative endeavors.
Through the sticky nights of autumn and the brutal cold of winter, I’ve been mulling over my relationship with the arts and how that has been damaged by my stint in industry. It’s been a difficult three years rolling with the wrong crowd, breaking myself for the market, and straying from my true purpose. But after detoxing the last vestiges of interpersonal poison from my life, I am able to hear myself once again.
And finally, with the past era behind me, I figured out the answers to these questions.What do I really want out of releasing my art? Who are really there for me?
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THE NATURE OF ART
As a kid, I relished in the magic of storytelling. I wove narratives starring my toys, which were tiny replicas of condiments such as a bottle of ketchup or a jar of mayonnaise. Memories of my grandma’s coffee table laden with everyday items and playthings flare brighter than daylight, and I remember myself as a kid, seated on a small blue stool, spinning tales for hours and hours. Outside our apartment window, the city of Chengdu continues to hum its busybody tune.
When I came to the United States, I became trapped in a small town with nothing but racism, farms, and a military base. I had no friends in school because all the popular white kids thought themselves too royal to communicate with the new kid from China. Even though I was uprooted from my home, my love for storytelling never abandoned me.
After a Puerto Rican friend told me that I could immortalize the scenes playing in the theater of my mind on the page, I began writing at the age of eleven with the dream of being a full-time author. I filled notebooks after notebooks after notebooks with fanfiction, original stories, and more.
At age 13, I attempted to write a sci-fi story starring a diverse group of teenage time-travelers. Then I met the people of the Garden, namely the Akagi Twins and a group of antagonists who would later reveal themselves to be the Adversa Generals. When I was 14, I met the Simulacra and the Grand Empress and the most handsome woman to have ever breathed. I tried recording their stories for the next four years, reading craft book after craft book, blog post after blog post, advice after advice, all so I could become a powerhouse writer. Fast forward from 2016 to 2020. During quarantine, I penned over 200k words to practice my writing, most of which were different attempts on the first chapter, but all were worth it since I figured out my voice, style, and process.
To me, writing is my haven. My lighthouse. The ray at the end of the tunnel. The fire of hope burning bright in the cold of trauma. Later, I started penning poems at age 18 and making music at age 19. At 20, I made my first music video. At 21, I began my own podcast and commenced a collaboration with a good friend to design video games. I also design my own book covers, make edits, and more.
Every day, I must create something, or else I would shrivel and scream.
Without the arts, I am nothing. Without the arts, I am soulless.
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THE ART OF NATURE
In January 2021, when I was still 18, I had thought that I needed to make the arts my career in order to be with the arts forever. I knew a thing or two about traditional publishing, something about querying literary agents and something about book signings. That was it.
But turns out, traditional publishing is seldom about the art of storytelling. It is about selling a product and catering to the market. And being on “Writer” Twitter is the equivalent of being stuck in some unhinged virtual reality where nothing exists outside of querying literary agents and cancelling debut authors. My friend and I left upon realizing that this space is not for us and that we deserve so much better.
A year later, I went back on social media and tried to publish independently. But then I realized that I never needed any social media to write and release. What truly matters are the stories and the actual writing. Not being an influencer. And the toxins in those cultish digital spaces are not worth my time and energy.
So I cut off the influences that had tried to persuade me to follow a path that is not true to myself.
And life is so much better.
I stargaze. I have deep talks with my partner and watch C-Dramas with her. I call my best friends, I play games on the Wii U. I write the stories that I have grown up with. I engage in intellectual conversations with those around me. I sing out aloud to Lil Nas X. I read the books on my shelves with a smile on my face. I have fun. I make music. I write poetry. I visit the Asian Market that had just opened around the block with my mom. I have genuine connections with good and honest people who actually care about me as a person. I focus on real life where the magic happens, where the love happens, where the fun happens. I go to open mics. I collaborate with lion dancers to make music videos. I admire the flowers in my front yard and marvel at the cute little duckies in my neighborhood. I dance at midnight. I honor the Universe through my spirituality. I meditate. I relax to lofi mixes and listen to music from around the world.
I am happy.
I am finally happy.
Capitalism tricks us into thinking that we are workers by nature whose only worth come from our productivity. What an utter falsehood. We are spiritual creatures connected to the primordial heart of the Universe, and we cannot be tamed. To quote Ursula K. Le Guin: “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings. Resistance and change often begin in art. Very often in our art, the art of words.”
Human nature is not numbers and sales. Human nature is art and heart.
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BEING A NATURAL ARTIST
As I once stated on my website: “I do not have any goals in the commercial sense. I do not create to sell. I do not create for an audience nor do I have any desire to build one. Success is relative to every individual. Binding my creations to corporate contracts is simply unsustainable for myself. Too much external noise drowns out the song of creativity. It is valid for artists to desire widespread recognition and money, but it is also valid to create for myself. To immerse myself in the otherworldly. To experiment and evolve alongside my art. To enjoy the cathartic experience of setting my soul free. That is why I create. That is what success looks like to me.”
If you are an artist who wants to turn your artistic endeavors into a career, you do you. You are valid. I support you, and I cheer you on. You got this!
If you are an artist like me who just make art for the sake of it and release to speak yourself and for the art to take up space, you are also valid. You don’t even have to share your art with anyone to call yourself an artist. If you make art, then you are an artist. Don’t listen to anyone but your own heart, and never yield to external noise that truly holds no power over you. We hold the power in our lives, and we are the only ones who get to decide what we do with our art. I will always cheer you on.
So let us live in the moment, champion the light, and create a more beautiful future that prioritizes humanity and love over corporate profit and greed.
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CONCLUSION
I am thrilled to have finally transcended the grime of industry and the dirt of trauma. I am thrilled to live a life that I love with my partner and my wonderful friends and a plethora of wholesome projects. With flowers and clouds and trees and water. Writing whenever I want, whatever I want, however I want. I’m having so much fun.
I am happy. I am loved. I am free.
Live your truth because you’re worth it, and you deserve to be free.