My High Heels Are Clicking Towards Your Door

It's been about 7 months now, and I finally have my silkscreen studio up and running. It began last summer when Mikee built me an exposure unit and then a dark room. During that time I had my intern explore this DIY set-up; working out the kinks, developing a system within the process -- trying to make it essentially workable. And now, I can honestly say that it is.
I did my first 4-color print a few days ago, based on a drawing that I was commissioned for by Soojin Buzelli, Creative Director, of Plansponsor and Planadviser magazines. It was for a column entitled, "Find the Best Provider."
In this case, the best provider is the best provider of meat-filled steamed buns.
Or as we say in Cantonese, cha-sui-bao.
I mentioned in a few posts that I have had a body of work floating in my head for several years now. It began when I was doing a 2 month summer fine art program at the School of Visual Arts in New York. The work that I was doing was homoerotic, but the motifs and imagery that kept surfacing during that time was rooted in food, and body image, beauty, race and (my) ethnicity.
I find it tremendously important to work on personal projects alongside commercial ones. For those of you who know me, you are probably tired of hearing me talk or write about it, but it's true. There is opportunity for the work that we do which nobody sees, those pictures that might be quantified by critics neither as fine art, nor illustration because it is less of this or more of that, less socially relevant and more decorative, less conceptual and more random; that work that we do in the privacy of whatever space we call our studios does carry with it meaning solely within that act-of-doing. So over a short period of three years, these random images, disparate from each other that I have done for no audience is finally taking shape. To be continued...

* The title of this post is from the lyrics of the song "One Thing," by Amerie.

This is coming in a bit late... Happy Valentine's Day!

SHOES
When I was 10 years old, I had my first job.
It was an ordinary job, a paper route that was passed onto me by my 16 year old brother. I was in fifth grade, having received a $2 per week allowance from my father over the past several years, but now I no longer had the patience to save up for those things in my life that I wanted, like the $42 pair of Nike sneakers with rubber baseball cleats.
Fashion forges ahead.
Yes, it gives a nod to the past, but moves forward nonetheless.
At the rate that I was going, it would have taken about 6 months to finally purchase those sneakers!
Each afternoon, I would get home from school to see the pile of The Toronto Star newspapers resting outside the entrance of my parents home; I'd bring them inside, stuff the newspapers into a bag and then walk, or sometimes ride my bike around the block placing them into each of the customers' mailboxes. But on the weekends because so many more people subscribed to the The Toronto Star, my father offered to help me deliver them. The number of homes we went to remains fuzzy in my head, but I do recall that the newspapers were incredibly thick. My father and I woke up very early on the weekends to receive the newspapers and then placed the inserts inside each one of them. We lined the foyer floor with clean sheets of blank paper, or sometimes plastic to prevent it from getting dirty, and then hauled in the stacks of newspapers and inserts into the house. I remember part of my soul wretched a little because I knew that this paper route caused me to miss a handful of those Saturday morning cartoons that I loved so much; back in 1985 it was the jingles that I liked the most about them, the songs and music at the beginning of these cartoons that I sang along to:
Band of brothers marching together
Heads held high in all types of weather
With fiery blast, our roaring rockets rise
Beyond the earth, beyond the sky
At the sight of Robin take your stand
With the gallant leader of our band.
Send a joyous shout throughout the land
For Rocket Robin Hood
One by one, my father and I placed each of the inserts into the middle sections of the newspaper. We didn't speak much while we did this, but only ploughed through the work in front of us, like factory workers do. After the piles were completed we carried the stacks into the back seat of the car (that my father again had lined with some fabric to prevent it from getting dirty) and then he drove me from house to house around the block. We did this every weekend for 3 years, and although I despised it, I appreciated the lessons that I was taught about work ethic, organization, the value of money, and not to wait for somebody to give me $2 a week for 6 months to buy a pair of $42 sneakers, but to go and get it myself.

ANTICIPATION

Two weeks ago I drafted a timetable for myself.
My days are now broken into sections on somewhat of an hourly basis. For example in the photo at the top of the page, I had allocated about an hour in the morning to do administrative work; then I spent the next hour and a half on commercial work; I had a conference call with a client at 1pm, after which I headed into Manhattan for an appointment later that afternoon; following this I went to the gym for about an hour; returned to my studio in Brooklyn to work on commercial work until about 8pm. It seems somewhat militant, I know, but for so long now I've wanted to breathe life into some projects that have existed on the margins of my career; however, I haven't understood how to incorporate them into my daily routines. As I mentioned in a previous post, I have been reading some books which have helped me organize myself better throughout the day. It's very common sense: the authors describe the need to organize and prioritize one's tasks in order to be productive. I've believed for a very long time that I was a very organized person, but somewhere in the root of my brain, I knew that this wasn't entirely true. I have always worked hard, but now I realize that I have never worked smartly.

I am very good with deadlines, and in the past nine years, I think that I have only missed one , which was during a sketch stage. In retrospect, I understand why this happened (which was near the end of last year) because I had spread myself too thin; I took on too many tasks, worked on too many projects, and as a result I could feel myself edging towards the brink of a burn-out. I'm familiar with this feeling, where I've pushed myself to my limits, having taken on so much work partly out of the fact that I wanted to, but also because of my own psychoses. To beat a dead horse, 2009 and part of 2010 were not great years for me financially, and so in essence I felt fearful that if I didn't take on nearly every project that came my way, that I would regret it.

This time I'm trying a different course of action. Whether or not it works, who can say? But in the meantime, things are going very well. As freelancers, we are not bound to any kind of structure. We can be as free as we would like, choosing to work at home, or in a separate studio, alone, or with our friends and peers. There are no hard and fast rules to help us succeed because the products that we create - our pictures - are made up of an aesthetic and vocabulary that is primarily shaped by who we are, our own tastes, which appeal, or don't appeal, to whoever our audience happens to be (sidenote, I understand that an illustration is dependent on other things such as a story, or article, but my focus here is on the elements of the style of a picture, those superficial qualities that help set it apart from other illustrations). Of course crossovers exist such that genres of illustrations, or styles done by several Illustrators appear similar to one another; however, despite the visual similarities, the work methods that one illustrator might employ towards his/her business of promotion and advertising, might not work for another. Yes, there are some basic methods that a young illustrator can use in order to get his/her first... or second... and then third job... but then what's next? I think that I've finally realized that I have lacked a kind of accountability within my profession. Although meeting deadlines, and paying taxes are only 2 forms of that; still, throughout the day, much of my time is oftentimes wasted on things that lay outside of whatever the focus of my tasks should be. It's human nature, I know.
Distractions.
But also I have the tendency to spend too much time on one thing or another, which is not only time wasted, but energy as well.
This idea of accountability means that I can keep track of what I do throughout the day. Weeding out those tasks that might be extraneous, while spending quality time on each of the projects that I have in front of me, means that I can leave the studio at a reasonable time. Of course there are moments when my timetable needs to flex for whatever reason, but more or less, this hourly to-do list is working so far, and is giving me the kind of structure that I believe is working for now.

*The photos above are of my U/V light table that Mikee built for me so that I can silkscreen. I put it on hiatus since the summer, but I'm using it again. Heads up for some new silkscreened projects. To be continued...

This is the first post without a photo; not because I'm choosing not-to, but because I can't. I'm at Zenkichi restaurant right now in Brooklyn - it's a Japanese Brasserie? And one of my favorite restaurants.
It's my birthday today.
And I've chosen to spend it by myself.
Well that's not entirely true.
I spent it with Mikee, Rita, and Yuko.
My dinner however, I have chosen to spend it alone.
Earlier on in the week I thought that I was going to plan something - at least a dinner, but as my birthday neared I decided not to. I like to be quiet sometimes; I enjoy spending time alone. I wonder if it's a product of getting older, although I don't think that it is. I often find myself in experiences that I want to freeze in time for one reason or another; and today it's one of those days.
My food is getting cold.
But that's cool.
Because I want to reflect.
I'm 36 today.
And my initial thought is, "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, how did that happen?"
I don't want to suggest that I have issues with getting older because I don't, but as I do get older, even if only for one year I take a mental inventory of my life: business and personal. And I feel as I mentioned in my previous post, that I'm at a new beginning.
It could be that I'm being melodramatic. It could be that the weight of the food in my belly has offset the equilibrium in my brain. Whatever the reason is extraneous.
It feels good to be here.
I'm in space too small to be a cubicle or a closet with sake, udon, cod, and pork belly. Too much for one person to entirely eat, but seriously do I care?
No.
Yes, call it waste or whatever, it won't phase me tonight.
All that I care about is centering myself.
In food.
Light jazz is floating somewhere between the laughter and conversation that surrounds me.
"this place is amazing, dude."
"oh my gawd."
"it was like really caj." (ie casual)
"i hurt so bad."
"I know it's like his room."
"yeah, right, but it's so bad."
"and he was talking..."
"yeah but still -"
"it was so gross!"
Music to me.
I'm nearly done eating.
I think I've sunken into the arms of Gluttony
But we'll embrace tonight.
Tonight was truly a celebration of life.
Even though I spent this supper alone, I wasn't lonely.
I thought about a lot of things; about a lot of the super cool and loving people in my life.
Didn't I say "love is cool?"... Because it is...
I'm totally doing fine.
Happy birthday to me.
And many good vibes to you.

1 IS THE MAGIC NUMBER

2011 has already begun feeling like a hustle, but I'm entirely cool with that. I really believe that those who have a top-kind of recognition in our industry have achieved this by the sheer ferocity of their work ethic. Sure, luck sometimes shows her face and helps out, but for the most part, it's one's push to do better which directly translates into a positive outcome (as long as one's intentions are honest).

I was extremely fortunate as a young illustrator to land an international advertising campaign shortly after school, called Lavalife. This project was divided into more than 9 campaigns spanning about 9 years; the first of which was sold to the client as a complete buyout; which means that I no longer own the rights (copyrights or moral rights) to these particular images. It was both a blessing and a curse because the project truly provided me with a kind of financial freedom I had never known. I might be able to compare it to an expired television series that goes into syndication, in which the actors who are on this program benefit from the royalties of it. This campaign lasted for several years, and although it took only a few weeks worth of work per year to create the drawings, it constituted about one-third of my income, not only from the fee that I received for the new drawings, but also for the reuse of those images in some of the previous campaigns. Nowadays, my work with this client has ceased for the most part, and so has the money. And although I feel a bit pained because my pocket-book feels lighter, I also am a somewhat relieved that a new part of my career is beginning.

I've written in the past about new beginnings, and for a long time I thought that "a new beginning" was that flash moment in time, that denouement in a story where things are suddenly reshaped, but it's not.
Eat
Pray
Love to believe that life unfolds in this manner, but I don't buy it.

New beginnings occur over a period of time, and for me, I realized over the past few days that I have been in the midst of a beginning for several months now, which will, like any other part of one's studio practice, have setbacks and successes. The idea of embracing the possibility of failure is something that truly frightens me. There's no need to expand on this (and yes, I know, I've written about this before).
Success makes me happy.
Failure makes me sad.
But it's those teachings that rise out of failure --wait, let me digress here, and pull back a bit -- it's the information we discover in those uncomfortable moments within our studio practice that makes us stronger artists. It helps us to think more critically about our work; define our vision and to to clarify, and concretize our vocabulary so that our work can over time, become a style, or signature that a client and our peers recognize.

* The illustration above was drawn for Bloomberg magazine - a portrait of Deepak Chopra and Russell Simmons.

Ten Minutes Left. Where is Ryan Seacrest?
I think this may be the first new year in (17) years that I've spent at home, not actually alone -- Rita, who's my dog ,is here, but she's sleeping, deciding not to chime in the new year with me and my glasses of Veuve and Moet. Yes, I softened to the idea of curling into my space tonight alone - movies, cupcakes, vegetarian dinner, semi-dried up Christmas tree as my cohorts to see this year out, but I feel really good about it. Yeah, there are parties tonight, gatherings, fun times to be had, but for some reason I don't feel like partaking at all.
2010 was a strange year.
It was a rebound from 2009, which was one of my toughest years yet. I understand on an intellectual level, the notion of business cycles -- recessions and recoveries; however, I haven't been working long enough to have actually experienced business cycles (note the plural).
In recent years, I have begun to wean myself off of the idea of resolutely choosing to decide that I will be "more of this" and "less of that" in the near year. The idea of resolutions are silly to me. Rewording "it" to "New Year's Intentions" seem more palpable, but still, intentions are oftentimes just left as unresolved hopes. That said, I will still move forward trying to become a better person (which doesn't mean becoming more accommodating; in my case less apologetic - I've been endowed with a double whammie: I'm Chinese and Canadian:
Sorry.
Thank you.
Sorry again.
But becoming a better person means that I'm trying to have a better gauge; an honest gauge about what those things in life are that make me most joyous. Oftentimes, they are experiences instead of "things".
Just now, my mind suddenly drifted to an episode of Strangers with Candy (Warren Sutton, "I love your work" ... Steven Colbert... "I love you even more"... Amy Sedaris, I love that you love pizza even though that you might not. Still you're badass funny. I draw for the illiterate and those who can't read...)
I'm digressing.
Sorry.
But back to my point, 2011 is the beginning of "me pulling me closer to me."
Think Steven Colbert breaking up with Paul Donello in Strangers With Candy.
I'm pulling myself closer to me.
On my playlist are the rappers and songstresses from the eighties and nineties.
Special Ed, Big Daddy Kane, Jay Z, Amil, Missy Elliot, Queen Latifah -- yes, I said Queen Latifah -- Xscape, TLC and Mariah.
As for movies, I'm on a hot tip right now -- I'm movie crazy (see Black Swan by the way, although I met a guy at a party 2 weeks ago that suggested that I watch a precursor of it). Breakfast Club, Say Anything, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Pretty in Pink (... Oh Ducky...), 16 Candles.
Books. I'm reading Daniel Pink's "A Whole New Mind" and "Seven Days in the Art World" by Sarah Thorton... although I'm out to purchase "For Esme - With Love and Squalor" by JD Salinger because I'm working with a dancer right now who was named after the character of this book (kowtows into the earth to Ryan for the hookup).
As for imagemaking. I have some thoughts of what to do in 2011. As I wrote in a previous post already, I have had a body of work circulating in my head for about 3 years now - now, it's time to put it into motion, and give it life.
Okay there are about 13 minutes left until the new year begins.
Props to us all for moving through 2010.
And as always good fortune for 2011.
Stay true.
Stay honest.
Be good.
And move forward.
Be in touch again in a few days.
All the best to you and yours.
Love is cool.
Happy New Year everyone.