moo

“My boyfriend left as soon as I got pregnant. I was terrified to tell my father, but he discovered my pregnancy test hidden in a drawer. He didn’t speak to me for a few days. We’d always been close, so I knew something was up. Finally he asked me if I wanted to tell him something. I began to cry. I thought he was going to kick me out of the house. But he just went to speak with my mom in the other room, and when he came back, he asked what I planned to do. I told him I wanted to keep the baby, and from that moment on he was very supportive. He cooked me all kinds of dishes whenever I had cravings. He gave me words of encouragement. He started saving money in case I needed a cesarean section. But during my seventh month he came down with a fever after wading through floodwater. The next week it turned into a cough. We took him to the hospital, went home to get clothes, but he died by the time we got back. It was so sudden. I had no idea what I was going to do. I got all my strength from my father. It seemed like keeping the baby had been a mistake. It’s been a tough few years. I had to drop out of school and find a job, but my son is doing well. He’s very smart. He comes home from school with stickers and stars. He’s a ‘Mama’s boy.’ It’s been hard, but I’ve proven to myself that I didn’t have to end a life just because I couldn’t face it.”

“You know the story of Martha and Mary? One of them needed to make everything perfect for Jesus, and the other one just listened to him. Well my mother was the one who needed everything to be perfect. She would lose her temper every Christmas because something was out of place. She was the definition of a ‘tiger mom.’ She rarely praised me. She showed her love through sermons and lectures. I was afraid of her, and so I always performed well on my assignments. I always made the honor roll. I became an executive at a fairly young age. I can thank her training for a lot of those things. But one thing I never learned was how to fail. I was always too afraid of the consequences. So even today I’m not good with the unknown. It’s hard for me to try something new, because I’m scared of messing up.”

Hello, friends. It’s been a while, huh? For those who have been following me, I thank you for your never-ending support. For those who are new – welcome! And thanks for tuning in.

Let’s do a recap.

2014 – 2016

I went back to university. I took up the Bachelor of Communication Design at Monash University and had the best three years of my life. I grew immensely as both a creative and as a person. I made so many wonderful connections, friends and mentors, all of whom shaped me into a better person.

I moved out. I was learning to live an independent life, and in turn, learned a lot about myself.

I began to cull a lot of excess from my life – commitments, material items, emotional baggage and toxic people. I sought simplicity and reduction and appreciation of the littlest things.

In the first two years, my mental health seriously declined again. I experienced the death of one of my dearest friends. A work colleague took his own life. I went through more conflict with my family. I was in a terrible place.

I left the legal industry and took up a retail job in a department store. It was close to home, flexible, easy and perfect for my schedule.

But then, after lots of hard work and self-care, I was at a stage that I was high-functioning enough to manage it on my own. I had improved beyond measure. I stopped going to therapy.

I went to Italy for an exchange program during my studies, and it was incredible.

I got engaged. 😊

I completed my degree and realised something important: that I wasn’t ready to continue making work yet. I was obsessed with proving my parents wrong about me. And I didn’t want that to be my motivation. 

In addition, though I loved learning about design and acquiring a host of new skills, I finally realised that I didn’t identify with being a designer. All I wanted to do was to keep drawing.  

So, I needed to take a step back. I needed to recenter and refocus and think about what I wanted.

2017

My sabbatical. I realised I was mentally fatigued and wanted to take a year off to nurture myself. This was a year of self-care. I gave myself zero obligations in terms of creating art, and barely picked up a pencil all year. No expectations to make anything, to be on social media, to maintain a public image. Just zero pressure. It was a healing, fulfilling break.

I fielded some disheartening judgment from others who saw my sabbatical as a step backwards. I realised it was much more a reflection of them than it was of me. That was okay. I kept going.

I went to work, paid the bills, and spent as much time loving myself and my nearest & dearest as possible.

I went to my graduation from Monash. My second graduation. I felt really fucking proud, and so was my partner, and it was just really special. I did it.

I spent a lot of time with my sister and my new, tiny, baby niece Siena. She became the light of my life.

I continued to enrich my relationship with my fiancé.

I gave myself a lot of peace, nurturing and rest.

I continued to care for my mental health.

I became very interested in slow fashion and curating an ethical wardrobe, and wondered how to incorporate that into my art practice one day.

I quit my job at a department store, and received a job offer to work at my favourite independent art gallery. The first day job I’ve had that I really, really like.

I reconnected with old friends and forged connections with new ones. I was inspired again.

I began to feeling rumblings within and maybe, maybe I was ready to start again.

2018

Now, we’re here. I want to start again. I am ready to start again. 

I remember writing about my deep yearning to pursue art many years ago. Who knew the process would take so long? I was naive then. It wasn’t as simple as signing up for uni, or moving out, or making a declaration. There was some difficult work to be done. It was an unpredictable and challenging trek through my past, my present and my future. It was years of facing and managing my depression and anxiety, and all the elements of my life that had contributed to my mental illness. 

But I am beginning now - from what seems to be a completely blank slate. 

The last time I felt really engaged creatively was the end of 2016, with my graduation project. However, the last time I really created artwork just for myself? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to do that. Not without a lot of anxiety, pressure and fear drummed into me. This is the first time in my life that I can independently make my own work, and while I am scared of failing and being not “good enough”, I am also excited to begin again. And to see where my work will take me, and what it will look like. I am eager to find my voice.

So this year, I want to make. And I want to only make for myself. While I would love to eventually get paid for my work, it is not my aim right now to seek freelance projects. It is a year of personal growth and creative experimentation for me.

It is time for me to resurface.

Now, that will mean I will try to make work. I hope to make a lot of it. And honestly, a lot of it won’t be any good. I have become very rusty and unfamiliar with making things. My technical skill has regressed. My conceptual thinking has gone for a long walk.

I am no longer the same artist who posted concept art-inspired work on DeviantART ten years ago. I don’t really know what kind of artist I am anymore. It has been almost a decade since I was actively and regularly creating artwork.

Basically, I don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing right now. And I am hugely doubtful of my abilities and where this will take me. And I am fearful of failure. 

But that’s okay.

All I know is that I’ve never stopped wanting to draw.

I figured that if I shared this process with you all, it would encourage me to keep going.

Maybe you’re starting over yourself. Or maybe you’re completely new to this. Either way, I’d love for you to join me on this journey. 

Let’s make things together – slowly, slowly.

Photography by Leah Jing.

“1450 italy? does it look like I have the time to dye you wool? nO. YOU’RE GOING TO THE 1980s”

“Upper middle class?!?!? You told me upper class! FUCK YEAH THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!!!”

“How about kimoNO.”

“Look me in the eyes. I do not care what you want. This is the 1500s. You absolutely cannot wear trousers.”

“Another court gown?? Here’s a novel idea: go as a peasant for once in your life. Why do you do this to me? You’re fucking sadists that’s why.”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be up all night hand painting silk.”