To Ghosts and Its Creators

“God made wheat, but not bread,

and fruit, but not wine,
so that humanity might share in the act of creation.”
– Daniel M. Ortberg

The people I love the most often tell me to give up. The day I decided that I was to become a
professional artist was the moment in my life in which I was met with the most disapproval. I
have toyed with the idea before, of centering my future around the arts, whether it be
literature, cinema, or design. But seen simply as my hobbies or talent, people used to
offhandedly encourage me to pursue such things, not knowing that, to me, it was— it is my
whole life. They did not understand its magnitude. And for me to be told that it shouldn’t or it
can’t be my future, it was like telling me to stop living. To cease to exist. To become what is
essentially a ghost of a person.

The people I love the most often tell me to give up. And they have their reasons not to believe
in me. I am not a child prodigy. I am not a genius. I am not gifted. I am not Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart or William Shakespeare. I have not won a single award or received any kind of
recognition that would be proof of my potential as an artist. On a technical perspective, my
skills are mediocre at best, and in terms of originality, I am easily replaceable. And most
tragically, I have the most terrible habit of unfinished work. I fill notebooks, boards, and walls,
any surface— anywhere I could write on, with outlines, with thoughts, so much of my ideas. I
could go on and on, plotting novels, short films, paintings that I want to do. All these projects,
sitting on the shelf, collecting dust. So, really, what is the point? I don’t create anything
complete that is worth acknowledging because there is always something missing. I call my
unfinished projects or works in progress “ghosts”. I create ghosts. Fractals of stories, of half
feelings, of disembodied musings, of premature connections. A scribble on paper of a line of
dialogue I could use later, a doodle of a face I’m considering for a character. They are
incomplete; they are ghosts that walk around in my mind, murmuring and whispering to
themselves, doomed by their state of still and quiet, of being stuck at possibility. This is a
confession. I myself do not understand why I would stop at possibility, but in truth, I don’t. I
don’t believe that I have ever stopped. The ghosts I create, I carry with me. The ghosts are
remembered. Take this as a promise, also. I am overwhelmed with the endless possibilities for
projects that my mind comes up with on the daily, but I know I will get to every single one of
them. “Not yet” we say. It has not happened at this current point in time, but trust that it will. I
will write that novel. I will make those short films. I will do those paintings. This is a matter of
anticipation. This is a matter of believing in myself and the future I am building myself up to.

Imagination is a powerful thing, and it consumes my mind. I find myself being so immersed in
the world of the arts and often forget or ignore everything else because of it. Lost in
imagination and disconnected from reality, you can already guess how that would pan out for
me. When people describe someone as being “not entirely there”, they mean this person may
be here physically, but their mind is somewhere else: daydreaming. I don’t want to admit it, but
I should: I daydream a lot. It’s how I go through my thoughts and ideas, what could be, and I
reiterate, the ghostly works of mine. I find myself not paying attention to conversation, to my
classes, to my lessons. I think this distractivity is damaging to me, as it hinders me from
learning. Afterall I am still a student. And what are the arts without the humanities? We people
do not love without contemplation, do not find beauty without understanding. Knowledge is
closely interwoven in the act of creation and expression. Without the knowledge of the past
shared with us, how could we then indulge ourselves in admiring the old and the present, or
even discovering the new? My mistake was not finding significance in my education earlier. I
had neglected to appreciate the process of learning and studying, and this hurt my progress as
an artist.

I remember- we all remember the pandemic- and I had all the time in the world. The existential
bore during those days should have pushed me to do more, try more. Yet I felt like I hit a wall I
couldn’t get myself to climb over. Everything I drew, I wrote, I filmed- I just felt apathy about
my art. And slowly, I just stopped creating. That was a low point in my life, but it gave me time
to think, to reflect. I really wasn’t in the right headspace to make art, so why force myself to? I
let myself rest, let time heal me. I thought a lot about what I wanted to do going forward.

“If you’re not the best, why not try to become the best?” is what I used to think. And sure, it’s
an optimistic mindset, but I personally am no go-getter. I want to exist in a space in which life
isn’t made out to be a race for who gets to the finish line, who’s number one, who’s the
“winner”? I may be interpreted as a mild person because of this. Participating in games and the
like, I could care less if I’m first or last. And I do not react loudly to my successes or failures.
Many think of me as indifferent, but I prefer to call myself stoic. Again, I do not like to think of
life as a race. I advocate for people to go at their own pace, to not let themselves be pressured
by others to rush into things. Which is why the concept of being “the best” or “the greatest” is
something I find ridiculous, especially in the arts. Art is not a competition. The value in art is
that it is for everyone, whether you’re creator or consumer, whether you participate or just
observe. As a creator, we have the ability to create so much more, so to bound yourself to one
genre, one style, one “masterpiece” is limiting. As a consumer, we have the means to see,
watch, hear- experience so much work from a multitude of creators. So, artists should remind
themselves that the audience does not care for one great art and only care for that, they care
for that one and also look to find more great art. The world does not pick a “top ten artworks of
all time” and only care for those, the world is wide and the people are diverse. As an artist, we
will always have an audience for whatever we create. People do care for art. We artists are
seen, no matter if we are number one in the call sheet or an unknown, upcoming talent: People
care. And I am perfectly content in being just who I am now. To me, it is enough to just do
what I want to do.

There have been moments too many to count wherein I brought up the prospect of my future
as a professional artist, of my plans to take up Fine Arts or Multimedia Arts in college, of my life
philosophy being centered around the arts which have been met with stares and responses
filled with disappointment and rejection. But not in malicious intent, it was in genuine concern
and care for me, because we have to take into account the rest of the world too. The people I
love the most may have discouraged me towards that career, but they have been what kept me
persevering in art. I feel the most loved and seen whenever they compliment my artwork
(which they never stopped doing), and I express my love for them through creating art about
and for them. Art means a lot to me, it really helps me connect with people. But as a career, a
lot could be said. There is opportunity in the arts, but the industry is competitive and ruthless.
There is fulfillment in becoming an artist, but the pay is meager and unreliable. There is
promise in making a career out of one’s art work, but it is a demanding and critical one. The
people I love the most often tell me to give up because they are afraid for me. They do not
want me to struggle to find a job or pay my rent, they do not want me to worry about whether
or not I can afford my necessities. But I assure them, with all my heart, that the arts is my
calling. I know that it will be difficult, I know that I will hit obstacles. I know that the likelihood
of becoming rich or famous is low for me. I know that I won’t be the “world’s greatest artist”.
Because that isn’t the point of art. That isn’t the point of all of this. That isn’t the point of living.
It’s not living if you don’t find satisfaction in what you do even now, no matter how small it is.
It’s not living if you’re not appreciating the present as much as you are preparing for the future.
A wonderful quote from one of my favorite television shows ever goes: “Find happiness in the
unique insanity of being here, now.”
 To Ghosts and Its CreatorS
(An Autobiography)
By
AYN GABRIELLE BAYEDBED CALDE

Phone Number: 09558664405

Email: gabrielleayn@gmail.com
Address: Balili, La Trinidad, Benguet
Date of Creation: April 10, 2023
Class Subject: Creative Nonfiction