wayward.

drawing has been something i have stuck to for the longest time. with a rather short attention span and perhaps mild ADHD, i have never really felt so passionate about anything else. everything else always lasted for a minute longer, then it would end rather abruptly, with me feeling bits of regret and joy in having learned or experienced whatever i learned or experienced. drawing, on another hand, has been continual for me. i've rested in between, stopped drawing once in a while or just drew less, but i always found myself going back to doodling faces and bodies.

it's not really an addiction, fortunately and unfortunately, it's an outlet. i like to tell stories through my silly little doodles. stories that make no sense, stories inspired by real life stories, stories that are mine alone. drawing made me feel happy, because i could find myself living in an entirely different world that i had made up, with all of the characters i have always wanted to live with. it was an escape route. now, i still tell stories through my drawings, but they're not so much of an escape from reality anymore. in fact, they even reflect reality sometimes. today, i draw mostly because i want to share what little talent or gift i have received from God, to cheer people up and make them smile. to make a difference in someone's life, even just by a little.

however, coming from a rather typical Asian family, my parents had always wanted me to grow up and get a job to earn myself a decent living. even though they were always very supportive with my art, they would also constantly remind me of finding a 'real' job, as though my dreams were simply dreams to them, that they were simply seen through a child's sight. i will always be an infant to them, until i finally realize the ultimate importance of earning money. believe me, i want to make money. i know how important money is, maybe not as important as they value it now, but i know, at least. i want to make money too, so i can live a good life too, so i can continue to bless others too.

but 'art' isn't a legit career.
art is luck. art is a miracle. visual artists who earn millions or billions are unknown to the public eye. they are not recognized, not acknowledged. the world only sees the doctors, the soldiers, the lawyers, the politicians, the teachers, the musicians, even--but all of these careers deny the industry of visual art. being a visual artist is not considered a profession to the norm. we are either dirt poor or filthy rich, either way still covered in dirt and filth; nobody knows that we work through days and nights without sleep, completing an artwork to be glanced at and ignored and forgotten forever, if left unappreciated; we are considered dreamers, ghosts, beings of the in-between realm--our existence is never assured.

that is how the world perceives us. perceives me.
that i am a child with great dreams, yes, but it is better to make that dream a second choice in life and put reality first, think of the realistic job opportunities and options given to us. that i am a just another kid who needs to be set straight. that yes, i can chase my dreams, but there will always be a 'but' afterward. i can, but i cannot.

struggling with this is one thing, but struggling with finding my art style is another. some people have very distinctive styles to be categorized and classified into: from fine arts, illustration, digital art, anime, semi-realism, abstract, to even cartoons, most artists have a distinctive category to fall under. me? i'm still not quite sure what i am. as if it isn't bad enough to be subconsciously alienated by the society, but now even within a space that i am supposed to feel comfort and security in, i am not. i am an extra-terrestrial being among other artists. i don't know who to hang out with, who to feel comfortable with entirely. i know so surely that art should not be categorized, but it can't be helped--there are tiny cliques in a community, after all.

so where do i fall?
where do i, fall under?

but i fall anyways.

this isn't what i feel all the time when i look at my art or talk about it, but it's certainly an undeniable emotion that lingers within me, a sort of doubt and insecurity that the society has instilled in me, to put me in subtle fear, to remind me always that i am not a part of the norm.

i'm sorry for the exceptionally lengthy post, but i'm not sorry for having fallen in love with drawing. to even call my works as 'art' still seem rather prideful to me, but i am not ashamed. i am not the best at what i do, and i never will be, but with this i know i can always do better, and i can always make someone else's day better with just a few strokes on a piece of paper.