Revisiting My Artist Manifesto
Finding My Way Forward
As 2024 draws to a close, it is a good time to reflect upon the principles and systems that have guided me throughout the last few months. I composed my artist manifesto last January, which has served me well ever since. This year, I have performed a good bit, composed new music, unveiled my Japanese-inspired garden, and created lots of visual art. Of course, I still struggle here and there (social media continues to trouble me), but overall, I love that my manifesto has helped me to laser in on how to proceed with my vision for my life.
I share this again as a reminder to myself and with the hope that you might gain some insight for your own creative journey.
According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a manifesto is “a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer.” This seems simple enough, but the fact that it is such an open and public declaration makes it bolder and more substantive than if it were an unspoken thought or a mumbled whisper.
In life, it is beneficial to everyone (though mostly to oneself) that one’s deepest intentions are transparent and specific. We then become accountable to everyone else (but mostly to ourselves) and embrace a better sense of what we believe in. Few things are more dismal than uncertainty and the shame that comes with hiding our honest desires.
Taking a cue from fellow artist Caroline Yoo (#5 from my list is inspired by her manifesto), I decided to try my hand at writing my own artist manifesto and to clearly and publicly state the intentions that color all of my creative work moving forward. I came up with the graphic above, and I am actually quite happy with it.
Each item on this list grew from a few of my frustrations.
1. I will invest my energy in the things I can control.
Disappointment is easily one of my greatest foes. I have often lost count of the outcomes that did not meet my expectations. A letdown is the wicked stepsister of my hopes and dreams, who always seems to follow along and drain the life out of everything. I went on a date with someone once back in my single days that I thought went well, only to be ghosted by him afterward. I have done shows where I put in a mountain of preparation and time, only to be faced with a small attendance or a tepid response.
I have learned to recognize when severe disappointment rears its taunting head, and the best way I know to fight it is to simply reflect on what I could control (in addition to some comfort food, a big hug, and a cuddle with my cat). If someone ghosted me after a date, I could recall being kind and friendly toward him, and his response or impressions were beyond my control.
If a show did not turn out as well as I hoped, I can trust that I gave my best performance. Art is subjective, and all I can do is make the most meaningful and beautiful work I can. The rest is for the birds to scrape and claw over.
2. I will find joy in the art I make.
Burnout is another nemesis of mine. More often than not, I have encountered it when something I was doing stopped being fun. Virtually anything becomes easier to do if even a little bit of joy is involved. While deep into a project, I habitually figure out ways to make the process more enjoyable. I might turn on a favored playlist to listen to while I work or shift to a less labor-intensive section. In the toughest scenarios, I take breaks that allow me to clear my head and chillax. (This is usually a short walk or a nap.)
Alternately, I have become more selective about the projects I take on. I have a better sense of the kind of work that feels miserable, and I stay away from it. Learning how to say “No!” can be a superpower. It opens space for more meaningful and joyous work.
3. I will allow myself to be authentic.
On my Instagram profile, my bio includes the phrase “joyful queer Filipino.” Believe it or not, I was conflicted about using it, but I decided that my authenticity opens up space for myself and others in my tribe. For every one person like me, there are thousands of “not-so-happy, heterosexual white people” who take up even more space (and are not always allies of the LGBTQ/POC variety).
So, I choose to take up space by openly being myself, warts and all. Because if I do not, I will be invisible, and I have already spent too many years doing that. Besides, I am better off being the cat daddy/art nerd/plant dad/pianist/filmmaker/activist/joyful queer Filipino in the public domain. Anything else would be disingenuous and not worthwhile.
4. I will cultivate a state of flow in my creative work.
On more than one occasion, I have been performing on stage and had what I call an out-of-body experience. I do not mean that aliens abducted me. In those moments, I felt like I was outside of myself. My singing and playing just naturally flowed out of me, and it felt so freeing. I was in this zone in which my entire mind and body engaged with the music effortlessly. I am probably doing a bad job of describing this, but what I can say definitively is that I try to replicate that sensation as often as possible when I do creative work and perform.
I try to reach a flow state, particularly when I play music. It is an unencumbered outpouring of sound and physical energy that requires little, if any, thought. It is almost a form of meditation, and quite honestly, it feels wonderful. Whatever this is, it makes me happy. So, why not do it more?
5. I will not engage in social media that disconnects me from my people.
Social media has been a thorn in my side for a long time now. It eats away at my time and bombards me with “suggested posts” and constant advertising. Even though being on Facebook and Instagram does not cost money, I have paid a lot with my time and attention. Moving forward, I will significantly change my social media usage this year. I will repurpose my Instagram account starting on Valentine’s Day and shift my focus to other platforms that truly connect me with people. There’s this pervasive assumption that artists must promote their work on social media, but I feel the urge to rebel against this and find my own way.
I will find my way somehow.
Corporations like Google and Meta have devised clever strategies to monetize social media to make millions of dollars. Along the way, this eroded one of the biggest reasons why these sites were supposedly created in the first place—to build community and connect people to each other. Now, there are “content creators” and TikTok stars everywhere. I will focus on connecting with my people and shed everything else. For my own mental health, this is the best way forward.
Writing my artist manifesto has been a great way to stretch my thinking and dig deeper into being the artist I want to be. None of this involves shortcuts or quick fixes, but they are sustainable practices and personal philosophies that enhance the quality of my creative life.
Now, I just have to figure out how to print my manifesto in full color and proudly display it in my studio (aka Asian lair) for all to see.
I will see it every day and smile—forging a path of my own along the way.
Recently, I attended the album release party of fellow musician Alex Wong at the Darkhorse Theatre in Nashville. He is a singer-songwriter who is also a chef who has mounted several “Permission” parties throughout the US and Europe. At these parties, he showcases music from his newest album, which has the same name, and serves Chinese cuisine that he grew up with in his Chinese immigrant community in the Bay Area. The underlying theme of this project is to explore the notion of “taking up space,” particularly as someone who is part of a marginalized minority group.
At this event, Alex served food and performed on two separate stages—one with the Chatterbird string ensemble and the other with his band of talented Nashville musicians.
It was a thoughtful multisensory event with beautiful music, culture, and food. MaxZine and I were very happy to attend.
