When You See Someone Showing Off, You Get Jealous

Just like always, merely seeing someone else’s LOMO-style photos showcasing vermilion seal carvings printed on paper triggered my artsy pretentiousness without warning. I couldn’t wait to buy a seal carving knife and ten blocks of Kunlun frozen stone online, intent on making a big splash and carving to my heart’s content! After placing the order, I started to second-guess myself—first, because Kunlun frozen stone is softer than Shoushan stone and has fewer patterns than Qingtian stone; second, because buying all this material just to carve my own name seemed wasteful. A while back, my mouse’s micro-switch broke, and to fix it I spent dozens of yuan on a soldering iron, only to use it once before tossing it in a drawer. This time, with the seal carving, I naturally hoped to produce some decent results—maybe gift one to a girl I liked if it turned out well. If not, no big deal; if I end up struggling in life and have to set up a street stall engraving seals and forging documents, at least I could brag that I started at 24, already an old hand. Like Lu Xun hiding in a small room rubbing steles before Call to Arms—he didn’t become famous from the rubbings, but at least he gathered some writing material for his readers.

Looking back, I’ve always enjoyed doing these futile things. The fundamental goal is to learn some skills for future needs, but unfortunately most of these efforts end up fruitless, which is heartbreaking. In college, I had way too much free time. Later, while tinkering with my blog, a small feature could take a whole day to implement. My energy and mind were completely absorbed in it, and I felt there was nothing more fun than writing code. I desperately wanted to become a programmer, but I severely lacked mathematical and logical thinking, so I reluctantly gave up that unrealistic dream. Then I tried focusing on product design to honor my pre-college aspirations, but the university curriculum had no real substance, and the teachers’ levels were uneven, which made me dislike my major. Combined with the grim employment prospects for industrial design, I simply gave up. I even told my counselor directly: “What’s the point of studying this? I won’t be working in this field anyway!” Around senior year, I decided I needed a practical skill—just like my grandfather who became a stonemason and my father who became a carpenter. With a skill in hand, you won’t go hungry. So I took up graphic design: spending time in the library reading design theory, taking the train back to Chengdu to see design biennales, visiting design exhibitions. In the end, my theoretical knowledge felt solid, but I still lacked hands-on skills. I drew a few concept sketches, quickly landed a job at an ad agency, and realized advertising design was nothing like graphic design—I just piled up materials, and clients were delighted. Later, at my third company, my hands-on skills still hadn’t improved. A designer whose hand-drawing is terrible is an insult to the profession. Although I’ve long known I lack drawing ability and planned to relearn it, I never took that real step. I wonder if I’ll manage it this year. Drawing is what I most want to pursue—if I can do it well, I’ll truly understand the relationships of points, lines, and planes, color combinations, and layout construction. In future work, I won’t feel anxious and will enjoy peace of mind.