preface

what this is all about

Getting this Substack going at the end of the month means I have the liberty of beginning with my biggest takeaway from April, which is the following quote (that I got from this video by the wonderful Tammy Dinh at Uncomfy):

Don’t make selfish art.

About three weeks ago I had somehow gotten obsessed with the idea of starting a small business selling handmade polymer clay art. It was an idea that had been at the back of my mind for a long time, and this was just one of the many instances where I’d read the signs wrongly—or perhaps to put it more accurately, mistook chance occurrences and other everyday things for signs.

My only consolation was that at least it lasted only a few (very adrenalised yet over-ambitiously fraught) days before I realised this whole idea was just not feasible or practical at all for someone like me, who has not only persistent eczema on my hands but also no self-discipline, diligence or drive that doesn’t fade away in a matter of mere minutes—not at all like my contact dermatitis. Sad to say, this process of stopping short after never really starting is something that I’m all too familiar with.

I remember quite recently seeing this Instagram post talking about how every single hobby we pick up in life, no matter how brief, will serve its purpose at some point. Of course that is what I’d like to think too, what with the countless things I’ve momentarily dabbled in (just like the polymer clay), so many of them now I can’t even keep track or remember anymore; of course I’d like to think that not all of those hours were wasted on nothing. But I also know that whatever caught my interest back then, and whatever catches my interest from here on out, at least I will have tried it once, and the trying will have done something, which is to satiate that curiosity that existed even if just for a fleeting moment, just like the synchronous relief and pleasure from scratching an itch before it goes away forever.

(Unfortunately having eczema means that my itches never do go away forever, they always come back; but you know what I mean.)

Anyway, to backtrack… here’s my point: the aforementioned quote to not make selfish art was a fortuitous strong slap to the face that I didn’t know I needed, and as much as I needed it of course it did still hurt. It made me realise that almost all of the “art” I’ve been making is indeed selfish, made purely as way of a coping mechanism, or for the pursuit of novel engagements, or simply for self-gratification. It is in every piece of writing I’ve written in times of sorrow or anguish, every half-baked project that I started but never finished, every “experimental video” I’ve edited using subpar footage recorded with my phone because I can’t stand the thought of them taking up storage space without existing for a good reason, and every photo I’ve taken that I thought I wanted to share with the world but was in fact just another strategy to maybe cultivate the image or version of myself that I wanted people to see.

But I don’t want to be selfish anymore. I want to share the things that I see and think and feel with people whom it might resonate with, who might have seen those same sights or thought those same thoughts or felt those same feelings; and therefore understand.