There is something interesting about this guy.
Andy Chen: “The Artist’s Hunger”
I think most of us know the fight it takes to get into art school, or design school. Like Andy’s experience, my own proclamation of applying to Emily Carr was met with confusion and “Ok, Ginger is a retard” discussions. But I think whatever we choose in life very much depends on how hard we fight for it.
For me, I remember applying to four art schools, and when I got into all four of them, plus offered a scholarship from one, my mother began to scratch her head. I could see it on her face: “Hey, if these other people think Ginger can do it… hey, maybe she really can do it…”
This was followed by more surprises; like me confirming a bedroom in a random student housing on Cambie Street (with BOY roommates—this did not impress the mother, actually), applying and registering all on my own, applying for a work permit, actually using said work permit to work as a cash girl for an upscale market, and other adventures that were so foreign for a shy Filipino-Chinese girl from Catholic School who had never even taken public transportation by herself or gone into a bank to manage anything financial in her life.
To explain, I come from a background of business. I’m from what some might call a fucking dynasty of Chinese merchants and providers, each generation’s story built on sacrifice, diligence and poverty. My family knew of nothing but how to do business. I remember childhood Christmas Eves of me writing invoices for things like ham and jewelery for the bazaars that my mother would have to make extra money. I sold calculators in a mall instead of enjoying summer vacation. My grandfather, who is in his 80s, still comes to work in the same store he built in Chinatown. He doesn’t pretend to work either, like the Queen in a constitutional monarchy. He actually works and makes decisions and shit.
In the end, a lot of the later generations (mine, in particular) grew up rather pampered, if not spoiled, and if not spoiled, then perhaps useless and ignorant of the basic necessities of independent living.
I knew that my mother had her doubts about me living in Canada on my own, and we fought over it often. She would say that I was so white, and that I was too independent, and that I was too stubborn, and that I was never going to get married this way. Every visit she made, from the Philippines to Canada, always ended with me and her standing in the middle of a room in our pajamas, unable to vocally express what we meant. Neither of us were very good at communicating. Our words would be cutting and angry, but our faces would be tired and scared. We so badly wanted to understand each other, but could not find the footing to even begin.
However, I remember coming home to my mum’s wake a couple of years ago, and meeting all these people. All these important business associates, distant relatives, former employees, and they all had one thing to say to me. “Oh, you’re Ginger! Your mother always spoke about you and how strong you were. Living alone in Canada, surviving all by yourself, at your age! She loved talking about you, Ginger.”
This one in particular surprised me: “Don’t tell your sisters, but I think you were her absolute favourite.”
Of course, when I told this to my sisters, they just gave me this look that said, “Yes, you little dipshit. Mum loved you the best.”
So I don’t know. There’s always a story to be told, things to be discovered. Andy Chen asks of his father in one of his posts, “Will I fail in his eyes? Will I ever make him proud?”
And the thing is, we kids might never be sure, but the parentals are and will always be proud of their children, no matter what they do professionally—because it’s always the way we fight and face their challenges that really matter. You stand up to them. You prove them wrong. And if you have a mother like mine, you will never find out until the very end.
That’s her way of telling you that a) she loves you and always have, and b) you’re a douchebag if you didn’t even know that in the beginning.
That’s my art school story.
