How I Rejected the Artist in Me
I was born in Vietnam, and back in the 90 there is no such thing as becoming an artist; that is not a career — as many Asian kids learned in their childhood and now the general American public as well.
Vietnamese arts are very different than what considered to be the “standard” beautiful art — or at least that is what I believed. You see, European paintings and realistic rendering was the “true” art, so if you can’t do it that way, then art is not for you; this was my thinking.
The two images below, I’ve seen them for millions of times, and I had always thought that they were ugly. I was wrong, and I’m glad that I’ve learned it now. There is no such thing as an ugly art, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
I was a shallow young artist, still young and maybe a bit wiser. I can list arts that I hate or dislike or I-can-never-see-myself-do-that-ugly-thing: anything that is not realistic. So when I arrived in the United States of America, my mindset was as small as me.
I’ve told myself a lot of things and want to be like all kinds of people: a scientist, a mathematician, a psychologist, and maybe even a detective. Anything but an artist, sure, I drew and paint and wrote and sculpted, but those were just hobbies never was a career. All of the jobs I listed have one thing in common; they’ll make you money. Do you see where I’ve already gone wrong?
I remembered wishing to trade everything so I can draw well but still didn’t think that it’s a career path. To not be an artist, I have to be smart if I wanted to succeed in anything at all because you see, art is the only thing I was good at and nothing else.
That was when I slowly found out that I can do anything perfectly mediocre if I put my mind into it. I found out about the mediocre bit later on in life.
I suck at math — luckily, I like it, so it wasn’t all miserable. Biology sucked the soul out of my body, and any textbook that is not literature or story-driven would put me to sleep — didn’t even take 10 minutes, it’s better than Ambien®. So in class, I doodles and write stories, and you know what any artist was born to do, creativity.
Despite how much I dislike nonrelated art’s activities, I’ve managed to blend in with the norm and be a “normal” high school kid — at least on paper. I graduated with a 3.9 weighted GPA and a 4.2 unweighted — whatever the f does that mean. I had done all the things that needed to be more than an artist: played sport and win an award, worked in the library, part of the bookfair, went to prom, founded a club, was in multiple clubs, was also in multiples pages of the yearbook.
I mean, how normal can that shit get. Well, I was never that proud of the things I did in high school since I’ve never told my family about half of “high school achievement”, for you see, that was for me; it was to prove to myself that I can do anything else as well as I can do art. But then, things changed, my class artworks were select in this art show, and mine somehow end up winning first place. I still don’t know why.
I didn’t think this was important, so I’ve never told anyone this story before, but this was the turning point, I learned that if I want to do what I love, I have to make money. I couldn’t paint anymore.
I went to an art college, and that constant reminder that I placed upon myself led me down the wrong path. The reminder that I needed to make art to make money. Initially, I wanted to be a fine artist, but my logical self asked me, “where is the money in that?” Many factors were slowly leading me astray, took me off course, and sent me down the path that was far away from myself and my art. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not like I can’t paint or draw, but it’s because I don’t think I was enough to make a living out of it.
My was-best-friend once jokingly told me, “I read in the newspaper that an artist robbed a bank because he couldn’t pay the bill. When you become an artist, don’t rob the bank, okay!” That was a harmless joke right, I didn’t think I would pay any mind to that, but I still remembered that conversation as clear as yesterday.
We’ve all heard of the term starving artist, and no one wants to be that. I doubted myself, and I lost my passion for art. When I got to college, my skills went up, and my drawings and paintings were better than before, but I lack the soul in them. My mom, while not very happy with me going to art school, is very supportive toward whatever we want to do. She feared I couldn’t support myself when she died, and I understand where she was coming from — her grandfather died from starvation, from being poor. I kept reassuring her that there is no such thing as starving-artist, and I will certainly make a living with my art degree. I was pretty proud of one of my final and showed it to her to proved that I’m a good artist. She looked at it and told me, “it’s very good looking, but there is no soul in it.” She spoke what I’ve already known.
Then on the very same summer, I came to my friend’s house, and his dad asked me what am I going for in college. I told him that I’m going to an art school, and immediately after my response, my friend’s dad laughs in my face this strengthen my resolved and set my passion ablaze, for no matter what I do, I must be successful with this art degree. Do you see what was wrong there?
I tried to find the best possible art path so I can make money. I gave up on Fine art because my arts had no soul and I can’t fix that. Concept art? Too competitive and again with the no-soul thing. Film? Nope, not for me. CGI is replacing 2D and CG artists are always in demand. I focus my major in the CG Animation department and tried many different classes. Modeling was excruciatingly painful and boring, Rigging was almost good except it’s not very artistic, Lighting was not it either, and Animation was the lucky winner because I’m running out of option.
I’ve locked down on becoming a Character Animator, but I was mediocre at best. At this point, I’ve definitely run out of a sure-win career path in the art field here. And by luck, I discovered that production is a thing. So I took my last step in abandoning art and the identity that I clung on so hard since I was born, an artist. Production Management was so freaking attractive, do you know why? First, the producer made a ton of money, second, there was not a lot of them in the whole entire production, third, they have all the power, and lastly, I’m fucking great at it — like not just good but kicking-ass excellent.
My confidence was skyrocket by then, I mean I will be able to make money and still somewhat be in the art field, how cool is that. From that day onward, I’ve stopped calling myself an artist and tried to tell other people that knew me that as well. I was so good at doing this that I can close my eyes and still get shit done.
After college I landed a job in the field — crossed out starving artist — and is fairly successful since I had worked on so many cool show and film — in your face people who laugh at me. I’ve mentioned two times already, but I really am good at this production management thing but I was so not happy.
I didn’t know why I was so unhappy and I’ve convinced myself that maybe I just need to do some more production job to find the perfect position to make me happy. You see, I was trying to be as close as possible to creativity and art but by being near it I see that I wasn’t doing it. Someday, I was so depressed that I couldn’t get out of bed because — I didn’t realize that then — I wasn’t doing something I love I was just doing something I’m good at. The only thing that made me get out of bed in the morning was the paycheck. For you see, I got what I want a job and a stable paycheck. What was I feeling unhappy for? By this time I’ve stopped doing art for almost a decade.
The best and worse thing happened to me was when I lost my job. I signed on to this short term job and was overconfident since I thought I can get another one within a few months. The Coronavirus epidemic happened and shit kept going downhill. Also, I suck at interviews especially if it’s not in person. So I started to write and draw again and it has been easier as the day went by.
In the beginning, I should have stuck with what I love and not go chasing after a sure way to becoming successful for the sake of a stable life; I mean everyone should have a stable life but, for me, if that is in exchanging for a lifetime of unhappiness then maybe it’s not worth it at all.
The lessons and messages that I’ve learned are: be open-minded, learned from all that is around you, don’t let doubt and fear stopping you, when you’re at the bottom the only way is up, and if you want to be an artist don’t fucking run away from it just do it because maybe a starving artist is better than not being an artist at all.
I’m an artist, a writer, a creator, and a dreamer. I’ll keep on drawing and take back what was lost to me, the soul in my art, and the passion of the artist in me.
