04. Freedom

I’ve constantly struggled with the concept of “freedom”. Oftentimes, I’ve asked myself, “what does it mean to be ‘free’?” I think I struggled with this because I didn’t frame my inquiries with any reference or context. “Freedom”, by itself, can truly mean anything. This can range from financial autonomy from debts and student loans to thriving independently in the intersections of my Blackness, queerness, and evolving interpretation of masculinity—despite the many systems that exist to silence that desired liberty. Though, one of the hardest hurdles I’ve yet to overcome is finding creative freedom again.

There was a time that I had little limitations on my ideas and exploration. From an early age, I knew I wanted to draw characters for a living. All throughout school, my ideas and stories knew no bounds. I would draw characters from Darkstalkers and Rival Schools to Zoids and Yugioh. I wrote tales of adventure and mystery with some inspiration from various RPGs like Final Fantasy X, The Legend of Dragoon, and the Xenosaga series. Along with video games and tv shows, mythology — specifically, Egyptian mythology — played a vital role in generating ideas on countless sheets of paper. To put it simply, I was thriving as an artist. After grad school, I noticed a steady decline in my concepts.

I think the biggest contributor was a thought that afflicts nearly every artist —
my art style doesn’t look like their style.

Questions that plagued my mind included, “Was it too many video games? Or was it too much anime? Did I lose my touch? Are my concepts boring? Is this even normal?” To be honest, I still haven’t found an exact answer. Maybe it was a combination of multiple factors. I think the biggest contributor was a thought that afflicts nearly every artist — my art style doesn’t look like their style. “Their” (or “they”) being the illustrators I, knowingly and unknowingly, looked up to. As a budding creative, I focused on drawing the intriguing details and exaggerated poses of those video game and anime characters, all while generating my own interpretations of my muses. As a post-graduate student burned out from two consecutive years of animating, I questioned my prowess and, quite honestly, my worth as an artist. I didn’t attempt to discover the root of those thoughts. Instead, I did the best and worst thing I could think of — I gave up art for design.

For the most part, I’m a self-taught designer (which is a strange realization I’ve made through this particular blog post). My initial interest in Graphic Design came through an Identity Branding course. From there, I really started to tinker with this entity known as “Design”. Over the years, I’ve learned — whether correctly or incorrectly is debatable — that Art and Design are two different things. Art allows for more subjective self-expression, while Design has a more functional utilitarian use, but still allows creative thought. Simply put, Design is about solving problems.

I never loved design.

Initially, this was great. After my graduate studies, I enjoyed diving into the realm of Design and exploring what “solving problems” entailed. Though, everywhere I went, I ran into the same sentiment about “problem-solving” (along with the overused “design thinking”). Within the past year, I’ve accepted something that may take some of my fellow designers by surprise—I never loved design. I enjoy the process, but I’m not in love with the discipline. A dull pain slightly aches in the pit of my stomach when I engage in conversations about “design thinking” and “problem solving” (imagine how it feels teaching those concepts). That pain stems from a yearning for more creative freedom.

Throughout my quest, I’ve learned Design is taught as a problem solving discipline. With this notion, I wondered how Art could be both separate and related to Design. As a result, I concluded that Art is a process of asking questions. The possibilities to ponder, explore, wander, and inquire “what if” in this “question asking procedure” is what infuses me with wonder and excitement! The joy of investigating, or making Art, allows me the liberty to saunter without the lingering feeling of functionality or sustainability. But stepping back into this creative freedom opens up the door for insecurities to enter.

A lesson I wish I learned when I was younger is — freedom comes with sacrifices.

I wonder if warnings about these feelings of angst were written in the small fine print of my degree studies. These sentiments originate from comparing myself to others and believing what I thought I “should” be. I believed my validity as an animator would only happen if my work appeared in a Pixar film. I thought my credibility as a designer would only occur if my portfolio included a well known client like MTV, VH1, or Nike. I assumed my character concepts would be legitimate only if they looked like the characters worthy enough for a Square Enix, Capcom, or Ubisoft title. The anxious feelings to develop “acceptable” work was both crippling to my well-being and stifling to my, once, overflowing creativity. But I’m learning that it’s okay. My journey is different from every other creative’s expedition, but it doesn’t make mine less valid or exhilarating. I’m gradually understanding my workflow and learning style. I’m realizing that working in a major studio may not be the best space for me—and that’s okay.

It’s just that simple.

A lesson I wish I learned when I was younger is — freedom comes with sacrifices. The creative freedom I yearned for led me to this point in my life and career, but it hasn’t been without sacrifice. The desire to tell my own stories and craft my own worlds came at the expense of my down time. Moments with my friends were given up so I could dedicate time to refining my craft and projects. I stepped away from freelancing (which I’m not upset about) to focus on teaching, learning, and making. With every new discovery on this path of creative independence comes new deterrents—and that’s okay. These barriers have taught me to either overcome them or to look around and redirect. I’m embracing these obstacles more and more because they’re forcing me to stop, breathe, and think differently. Instead of mulling over ways to overcome those hindrances, I’m accepting their presence as a tip from the universe—slow down, look around, live a little, and see what happens. It’s just that simple.

–Freedom