Confessions From a Creative person: A Meditation on the Future
New York, August 2021
by Elena Chen
As my 27th birthday is edging closer I’ve taken some time to think about the idea of a “future” and what it connotes for me, situated in wider cultural contexts, and how its meaning has changed as the future grew into the past. When I was younger, everyone (the grown-ups) would look at me and assign this idea of a future onto me. I was going to be a “...doctor” or “scientist” or “...a professor” and these would be the professions impressed upon me. Spoiler-alert, I’m not a doctor or a scientist and I have no plans to become a professor. Although I did, I planned for a long time to become someone “professional”.
I would have a profession. I would work towards it and one day, my future, would be that of a professional. Now, I really detest this idea of a profession. I admire people who are doctors, scientists and professors. Teachers and nurses and engineers. But I detest the idea of “professional” because I was taught to associate professional with legitimate and if I wasn’t working for a dedicated number of years in a structured environment towards a final achievement, demarcated by steps certified by an authoritative body (preferably recognized by the government), then what I was doing but somehow less worthy. If it weren’t a defined profession, it would be less worthy of pursuing. That time spent towards those endeavors would ultimately be time used on the “wrong” pursuits, because anyway, I’m not going to be a carpenter or artist or woodworker. Not a chef, painter or gardener. What is this ascension-from-the-middle-class narrative that I have been indoctrinated into?
When did the idea of fun start contradicting the idea of “future”? (Hong Kong, 2018)
Then there’s the story, this idea, that if I did not pursue a profession then I would be unprofessional. As if I’d take working less seriously if I were doing a “serious” profession. I’ve met doctors who made silly jokes. Engineers who were great at having fun. When did the idea of fun start contradicting the idea of “future”?
I did many fun things when I was kid. I danced, I sang, I played the piano. I drew, I painted, I swam when I could. I fantasized about tree houses and making ornate dresses and traveling the world with a camera. These were the things that made me move and got me to my feet. Eventually I stopped dancing. I left the choir. I put the scrapbooks with dresses away. I took classes in biology, economics and history. The world is fascinating and so all these subjects were nonetheless interesting because they were about the world.
I’m still enamored by these subjects today. But when it came to choosing a university and a path forward into my future, I applied to seven comprehensive universities and one art school. Some part of me kept that spark alive, because I wanted to be hopeful about this idea that my future could be about chasing my dreams. Nobody told me I could also not go to university. Or I could delay going to university. Well, I don’t regret having gone to university. I just didn’t think that I’d end up going to three universities and changing my major the same number of times. I went to the art school by the way. I thought, this is it, I’m going to start being me now. Yet it was really hard being in a huge city surrounded by strangers without any clue how I would structure my life. I also didn’t know how to be creative. How to enjoy being creative. I spent so long suppressing and demeaning the idea that being creative could be worthwhile that everything I did came under the same criticizing scrutiny.
Could I really survive as a creative? Could I really get away with being happy?
So I left that university, and tried art school in a different country. I was still studying photography. Here I learned that being creative could indeed be rewarding and that expressing myself was something I could enjoy. But I still felt too scared to believe in its practicality. Could I really survive as a creative? Could I really get away with being happy?
I turned 19 when I moved to London. I was a fetus in terms of understanding what future I wanted. I could barely get to the next week without anxiety. Since I was 19, I’ve completed a bachelor’s degree in social anthropology and a master’s degree in child psychiatry. I’ve worked as a teacher and video editor, a writer and a photographer. I’ve modeled and styled and researched and interviewed. I’ve been so lucky to have traveled to places I never thought I would.
Outside my apartment in Los Angeles, 2021
And now, I have returned to the place I feel best. I’m doing creative things again. I hardly ever think about being a researcher or psychiatrist or anthropologist. I don’t want to work in market research or childhood education. There is no map for what I’m doing. There is no certificate that anyone can give me to tell me I’ve made it. I don’t know what to expect for my future or how I should envision it – professionally. I know that personally, I’ll be cooking good food, traveling to beautiful places, surrounding myself with true friendships and hoping for the best. Now, I spend my time learning French, crocheting and knitting, running my small businesses, baking, cycling, waitressing, writing, and planning my next big move.
As for the future, I think I’ll keep meditating on what it is I want it to be irrespective of professional status, financial return or the narratives built up in my head. In the meantime I’ve been listening to “All Love” by Fletcher on repeat and somehow it’s rather fitting. Have a lovely morning or evening, wherever you are.
