Is pursuing your passion worth the cost?
Written by Loisse Ledres
Event Photos by Charisse Ledres
Once in a while, this question pops up in my head. In this country and in most of the world, artists get taken for granted. The art we create is often what brings life, color and new perspectives to our lives and communities, yet society doesn’t provide systems to let us thrive.
This is why me and Jazz, my partner in crime at Tagalikha, decided to organize a panel titled Mahal or Mahal: Is pursuing your passion worth the cost? The word "Mahal" in Filipino shares two definitions: Mahal as in expensive, costly, or Mahal as in love. We invited Keith Lafuente (fashion design), Sacha Carlos-Raps (glassworks and printmaking) and Christie Rafol (architectural design) to talk with us and share about the real cost of creativity. Is it too expensive to be an artist? Is our love for our art worth all the sacrifices? We hosted the panel in downtown Brooklyn, with plenty of snacks to share. It was an amazing time of community with fellow Filipino creators, sharing the highs and lows of this journey that chose us.
There are a select few artists who do earn plenty of money and praise for their work. Some of them likely already had financial backing to start with, or have connections within a very gatekept creative industry. There are creative jobs, but often in service of large corporations that stifle creative freedom in the name of selling products.
In all of these realms, BIPOC creators have greater odds stacked against them. Our conversations with them showed the resilience they had to build to get to their levels of success. For Keith, his parents didn’t want him to go to fashion school. So he taught himself how to sew through YouTube. Since then, his work has been featured in galleries all over NY and internationally as well as publications like Harper’s Bazaar HK, The Cut, Cultured and Cosmopolitan. During the day, he works part-time at another job and manages to find time and energy to create after his long work hours. Keith’s clothing navigates queerness and Filipino-ness, “embodying a complex, expansive, and ever-evolving conception of diasporic identity.” Even with all his accomplishments, Keith sometimes still feels a “dripping faucet of doubt”, like he’s still behind. Keith knows what he needs however, to keep going. He says, “Following your passion can be isolating, but remembering that other people are doing the same brings comfort to me.”
Even with all the limitations, there are many of us who continue to create because we see what could be. When Sacha was working as a copywriter, she would visit museums to destress and be inspired. But oftentimes it did the opposite. She said, “When I saw something beautiful in a museum, I would get so angry. My soul was telling me to create something. I don’t want to experience that ever again.” Everyday she wasn’t creating the way she was intended to, her soul felt the impact. Today, Sacha is one of the few Filipina artists in the glassworks practice, and she practices and manages a studio in Brooklyn. Her works are “memoiric totems that embraces the kaleidoscopic inner self, an ode to the abode and the absurd.” She hopes to teach workshops soon. (New Yorkers, I am very jealous of you.)
This is the magic of artists: “We have limitless imagination. The rest is just logistics.” Christie has had years of experience in the architectural field. As time went on, she grew jaded by the unjust systems that were perpetuated in the industry. She is now developing The Thiiirds, “a platform that connects and educates creatives on the ways that art and design can be used as a tools for societal and personal healing to create better future and realities, here and now.” It took a lot of loss for Christie to get to this space of self-love and confidence, but it has been a path that she says has been well worth it.
Navigating the artist’s journey is never simple and linear. I grew up in Cebu, Philippines, watching Project Runway in elementary school, and because of that show, I wanted to be a fashion designer. Back then, our TV needed an antenna to reach the proper signals to play a clear picture. This American show was even trickier to catch because it wasn’t on a local channel. Kids now won’t probably be able to imagine, but since our antenna was broken, I would have to hold them up for the whole episode to play clearly. I’d sit right by the TV, arms aching but happily taking every detail in. Even though I had so much hope and aspirations while watching the show, in the back of my mind I would think that my dream was useless. I already bought the idea that artists would always be poor and struggling. I didn’t see it play out otherwise in the real world. It’s hard enough to get a stable job in any field in the Philippines. When I moved to the US as a young Filipina pre-teen, the dream felt even loftier, since everyone I saw on large platforms didn’t look like me.
Yet, here I am, about a decade or so later, creating for myself and my communities. As my job. As my primary income source. How did this happen?
This took a lot of work. It still does. To start, I had to move across the country with my family, navigated complicated systems to find funding for schooling and intentionally sought out Filipinos and people of color who were thriving in their creative practices. Even now, I continue to learn how to build a business, find clients, market my work, and in the midst of it all still keep my sanity as an artist. Keith, Sacha and Christie know this struggle well. It’s a reality they face everyday, but at the end of the panel, everyone said they’re going to keep doing it anyway.
The team that made the panel happen
Supporting art and art-making helps change the world everyday. Think of the last song you heard that made you cry, a drawing that makes you smile, or the necklace that reminds you of a loved one. Art isn’t just what hangs in museums, it surrounds us everyday. Imagine if all of that disappeared? I simply can’t.
The journey is still continuing,
as long as each artist still creates.
Here’s three ways you can support artists today, direct from them:
Keith Lafuente | keithlafuente.com | @keith_lafuente
Follow me and message me about art and fashion. I’m also looking for models. No experience required.
Sacha Carlos-Raps | sacharaps.com | @sacharaps
I have three things: If the first happens, I don’t need the other two.
If you or a friend is an eccentric billionaire and needs a beneficiary, talk to me.
I want to lean into being a teacher. Message me if you’d like to learn.
Be the bitch that commissions stuff. A little card, any small thing helps. Supporting communities like Tagalikha. A rising tide lifts all boats.
Christie Rafol | thethiiirds.com | @christie_just_adds_water
Support me by letting me support you. I would like to be in community with everyone through The Thiiirds. Talk to me, email me and hit me up on the DM.
Want more?
If you’re interested in discussions similar to what’s featured here, check out more of Tagalikha’s community work through our website. To listen to the whole panel, watch livestream on our Youtube here. Skip to the 34:00 mark.
This article was also featured on Loisse’s Substack, feel free to read more about the trials and errors of building a life around art.
