This article is part of Mochi Magazine’s summer issue on Art — click here to read the rest of the issue.
Growing up as an Asian American, I was always encouraged by those around me to become well rounded and explore areas such as art, music, and sports. However, there was a firm understanding that these were just hobbies to bolster up my college admissions. They were also additional bragging points my mother could use when talking with other family members, rather than pathways to my career. It was all fun and games for my family until I wanted to major in something other than engineering or the medical field.
First and foremost, my true love growing up was books, and reading as many books as I could in an obscene amount of time. I knew early on that I wanted to major in English and never strayed too far from that path. Although this was looked down upon by my family of doctors and dentists, this was something I was set on. At the same time, art was the main avenue for me to express different emotions. I look back and smile at the growth (and sometimes cringe) when I look at my pieces. Throughout college, I took art classes once or twice a year to have a fun distraction from dense theories and monotonous, lengthy essays. Creating art was a way for me to detach and do something that I knew. It was solely for my benefit and gave me the desire to get better.
When I graduated college in the early months of 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic was at its peak. I moved back near my mother to help take care of her, and I was desperate for a job. I never thought about getting a career in art since it had always been my way of relaxing and not something I had considered doing professionally. But before I knew it, I had landed a job as an art studio manager and teacher.
As I turned one of my passions and hobbies into something I had to do for a living, I could no longer enjoy it as a form of relaxation and peace the way I had before. On one hand, I had so much joy in delving…
Read the full article here
