Neema Ejercito (she/her/hers), Low Entropy Volunteer Writer
Recently, I have been actively practicing my art. Whether it’s been writing, sewing, multimedia-making, singing or playing the sax, I have been paying attention to my muse more, and she just seems to reward me each time.
When I was going through my depression, I thought art therapy would help save me. I met a counselor whom I chose because she practiced art therapy, but to be honest, I found the session boring. I was kind enough to myself to not blame myself for disliking the session and simply accepted that perhaps it wasn’t for me. But I did not give up on the idea that art could be therapeutic.
Fast forward to over a year later, when I have completed over 20 pieces on a series I’ve titled Found Things, submitted some to a fundraising activity for an east side gallery and submitted most to a dance studio for consideration. Although I did not sell any at the fundraiser and the studio did not approve my submission, my philosophy in making art has become to play. And I think that’s come a long way from me thinking art is for selling, for productivity, for others. There is art that is meant for those things, but I have more fun making my art when I think of it as play time, making a mess (which I don’t, really, I’m a CLAYGO girl =D) and you know, just letting loose.
I don’t blame the studio that declined my submission. When I did look through my works again though, I kept thinking how I understood why they were unsellable. I felt that they were too tied to something about me, my circumstances, what I was feeling at the time. But then, isn’t that what some of the most famously sold pieces are? So I guess I don’t have a clear understanding of their choice, but I did start thinking of what I could make that would be bought.
Don’t worry though. I have not sold my soul to commerce. I still make art for my peace of mind. But making art has helped me be more deliberate in the way I think, to be more aware of what I think and to be more purposeful in the way I spend my time when I’m not creating. Although now, I do share Ricky Lee’s perspective on art, and more specifically, writing. He is one of my most revered Philippine screenwriters, and in his book Trip to Quiapo, he shares that everyday life is writing. His commute to and from places, his meal with a friend, his meeting with a producer—all of that is writing. Because if he didn’t do those things, there would be nothing for him to write about!
Art is also therapy because it has made me be more open to serendipity as well. This article itself is an example of that. I don’t think I would have been so compelled to write it had I not been practicing my art. And if I had not been going to therapy, I also feel I would not have chosen to listen to my gut.
—Ever since watching Better Man with her second son, Neema Ejercito has not stopped listening to Robbie Williams’ Live at Knebworth album on Spotify. She even writes to it, but has also discovered that writing to Death Grips is actually quite cathartic, releasing some anger and helping with her peace. She is a mother to two other humans and a bunch of plants, all of whom she adores and loves watching grow.
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