Art Journey: How I Pursued Art But Haven't (A Lengthy Documentation of Life and Art)

Hello again, world. I'm back after a short (ha) break. In these weeks, I've been sick and caught up in school activities (and left this sitting as a draft half written for literally almost a month. Yay me...), but yet if I look back, I have drawn quite a lot! It's a amazing how much you can accomplish when everything adds up. Every tiny effort counts. An artist I admire calls it "drawing mileage" and it's an actual thing, because just so happens, my PE teacher also mentioned it recently. Clocking your mileage little by little, it adds up to a lot when you actually look back to it.

And thus, I look back to where I begin, and realise how far I've come. I'm not far into my journey of exploration, but I've come a good deal along the direction I'm shooting for! Now, before I get any more philosophical, let me try to recount the story of how I got here, typing on this blog today...

From as long as I remember, being creative has always been a part of my life. And I don't mean it like I grew up with a crayon in my hand or anything like that, I mean more like, imagination was a constant play mate. My childhood was filled with crazy adventures, like flying on the sofa for a holiday trip with my younger brother, throwing irons around by the wire to try fishing and dreaming up wars, battles and random bits of news to write in our very much established newspaper. Of course, queer projects aside, I did some actual drawing and painting and colouring too.

There was a time where every evening, before bed, my mum would sprawl out on the floor with me and a colouring book. I still have that book; it's currently sitting on my shelf in a little corner. But even without it, I can still vividly remember what it was like. There were pictures of pretty girls in fancy dresses, sometimes with flowers, sometimes with umbrellas. Each page was about A4 size. We'd open it up to a fresh page and then we would each pick a side to colour (ok fine, I picked the prettier side all the time XD) then we would spend the next hour or so colouring together, filling up the whole page, right up to the line in the middle where we would meet. Almost every night, we coloured and slowly filled up the book.

Now, my mum, is an excellent artist. Her proportions and eye balling skills are farrrrrrr superior to mine (even now!) And her shading; I loved how effortlessly she can blend two, three, four colours all in a row. As a kid, it was magic to me. I aspired to be as good as her. And definitely, at least to me, I had done a good job learning from her. Shading was my best skill, and honestly, still one of my favourite parts to do in every drawing.

Of course, things have changed over the course of a decade or so, but essentially, it's still the beginning of everything. This is where I began, laying on the floor, in pyjamas, and crayons spread out all around me.

Moving on with time, I never actually paid much attention to art. It wasn't a super big fancy of mine or anything. Yes, I could draw a little, I could definitely do some colouring, but it wasn't anything too fancy. I drew a little here and there, the occasional poster, birthday card etc (and this one random painting I would keep creating over and over, exactly the same. Don't ask me why, I have no idea, as far as I'm concerned, it never meant anything much, it just happened!! It's always this same red crab sitting on a beach in poster colours on printer paper. Super fancy, I know.) So anyway, back to the story, art wasn't thing big thing for me, no. Back then, in my early years of double digit age, the thing that really captured my attention and drew me in completely was words.

Words were my whole world. I buried myself in books and books and stacks of books still. Sometimes I'd write too (which you already know if you have been around). One thing though, they were all fiction. I was really really captivated by that. And when I say fiction, I really do mean fiction. I loved it so much, at one point, I was even ready to become a writer or a librarian just to hang out with words every day and have it be an actual job (coz why not right?)

And then of course came the pivotal moment, the moment where everything spiralled into today. Perhaps even the moment of warning, a foreshadowing of sorts to my current predicament. I was faced with the classic question, which I'm willing to bet my favourite book and all my art supplies on, that almost all artists face at some point in their life.

Should I go to art school?

Simple question, but not really. I haven't any experience yet, but keep in mind, I'm still on my journey, so maybe things might change who knows? This is where I've been and where I'm going though, so if you're curious, prepare for more lengthy storystelling...

When the time came to choose Secondary schools, my teacher suggested I try out SOTA (school of The Arts, basically art school in Singapore, for those above 12 and below 16-18ish? I think? To be honest, I'm not entirely sure because I never did much research into it, but let's not get ahead...) I was faced with the option of art school, which understandably, I was excited about. I mean, as a kid of 12, if you found out you could paint and draw every day and it would still be considered "work" wouldn't you be excited? I was all ready to go and become an artist, until I didn't. And here's why.

Firstly, money. Obviously, art school is expensive wherever you are in the world or at least would require a more substantial amount of money than it probably should be :( but lamenting aside, yes money was a big thing which leads to the second point. My mum wasn't as enthusiastic about the idea as I was. Sure, she was an aspiring artist in her own time but she never got the opportunity to take up art as a legitimate career path. But thing is, if I really think about it now, art wasn't that big of a thing for her, so maybe it didn't matter as much whether she had the chance or not. Either way, her "passion" so to speak never really held out and it became a thing she did for fun some times, for people other times. Maybe because it didn't mean as much to her, she didn't think it would mean much to me. And maybe she was right, because it wasn't that hard to throw me off that path. All she did to convince me was by a little, albeit dirty, trick.

"If you go to art school, you don't have a much of a future here, so you have to go overseas and you'll be away from me." And being away from my family and friends and everything familiar was a terrifying thought to young me, so it effectively wiped out any ideas about art or art school for awhile. See? Easy but sly trick. Totally worked though! For awhile that is.

See, the thing is, maybe it was meant to be, or maybe it was something I couldn't truly let go of, whatever the case, not going to art school wasn't the end of anything, but rather the start of everything.

I went to a school that most definitely is not an art school (ahem ahem no spoilers ahead) and actually forgot about the whole art school situation for over a year.

At least that's what happened until one very fateful day, for reasonsthataretoocomplicatedandareactuallynotrelevant, I found myself having to find a new CCA (after school activities that I spend way too much of my life on? Definitely something worth picking carefully!) I somehow landed myself in Art Club and oh geez, I will forever remember my first ever CCA session.

I remember so vividly, it was a watercolour class. The last one of a whole series. So basically, I missed the teaching part and got plopped right into the "Now it's your turn to create something!" part. There I was, artist newbie with some experience in acrylic, a little knowledge of composition and a (in retrospect, vaguely) impressive skill in wielding a pencil. Clearly, I was out of my depth.

For the first time ever, I found myself exposed to a tiny piece of the real art world out there. And it was nothing like my little corner on the floor of my bedroom. It was intense. I felt so left behind and under educated, from the very beginning of my Art Club journey that I ended up diving into a whole lot of self initiated research. And when I say dive, I actually do mean dive. I went down this rabbit hole of artsy information and honestly, I think I'm still floating around somewhere down there. I have finally discovered that there is so much more than just drawing to art and it drew me in (haha bad pun...) I looked up the Golden Ratio, Rule of Thirds, Colour Theory, different painting techniques, and on and on and on. It spiralled. A lot.

All that information intrigued me. It puzzled my mind. It made me curious. It called to me. I went on such a tangent over the course of a year, I suddenly found my artistic technique improving in ways that I never thought I could. But most of all, I found my interest in art spiking all over again. Art became a part of my life, and was closer to me than ever. Not going to art school didn't change that. Art still found a way back to me.

I jumped in head first and got swept up in everything. I found again, a passion and something like a love for art. I ran art projects in school, organised exhibits and eventually helped run Art Club as the president. I even joined a couple of local art competitions, with varying success, one of which earned me a drawing tablet and allowed me a foot into the world of digital art. In many ways, I was wrapped up in the art world, it found it's way into most aspects of my life and that was when The Question arose again.

There came a time where we were asked to consider future educational and career paths. I'm sure everyone, at some point in life, was asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Beforehand, I could never see a real answer for myself. The author thing was just a silly, you know, thing. I never contemplated it seriously. But when I think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, what I want to do, I knew then, I have to do something I love. Simply put, to me, money is just a bonus. Sure it helps you survive, but when you have more than what you need, money is supposed to bring you happiness. But if you can skip the in between and just find happiness in the job itself, isn't it a much better use of your life? Philosophical yes, but what is the point in life? Back then, my answer was happiness. We live to be happy, to experience life, the joy, sorrow and beauty of it. For me, that was devoting myself to art. My career wouldn't even be a career, it'd be something I do for fun and helps me survive. That was my dream.

I was excited all over again. I did research into art schools, locally and internationally. I tackled creating with a renewed vigour, eager to prove myself and build a portfolio comparable to those who have already had years of art education ahead of me. My goal was to get into an art school in Paris. Not for the prestige or the certificate or anything, but the experience of being fully immersed in a culture that embraces art as part of life. This is something I don't want to miss out on. I had to prepare myself as best as I can, so I asked my school, could I take up art as a subject now to prepare?

In some other schools locally, the answer might have been a steady yes, but for me, it was a definite no. It wasn't something my school offered. No, I couldn't take just this one class at another school because of timetable clashes. No, I could not switch schools. For various reasons, to this very day, I have never taken up proper art education. Nothing more than the compulsory, short art lessons at lower levels of education. Needless to say, I was disappointed. I well and truly love my school and the education system I'm currently in; it is flexible, efficient and definitely enriching, stretching me and helping me grow in so many ways, but one thing I'm wishing would change, is the emphasise on the arts and creativity in general. More can be done to help those who love to create, people like me.

And thus, here I am today, working towards my future. I still hope to get into art school one day and I'm building my portfolio in my own free time between lessons and homework, the works. I have no idea what the future would hold, but I know that if art was meant for me, it will come to me in it's own time.

Of course, there's more to the story. All the thought put into chasing this goal, my feelings about it, the process, the research, the decisions to make. All these will probably take a lot more words to document, and as it is, this blog post is already lagging on me, so I shall assume I'm nearing a word limit... there is more to every story and I'll work on getting it out there. Maybe one day the world would see it, maybe no one ever will, but this is for me, a tracing of my art, my journey, my life.

Art is life in progress. Isn't it true if you think about it?

Love, Cuix

(Hooray for reaching the end! I'm so proud of you for sticking with me :)