On the necessity of Point A: How to start from scratch in another country
MANILA, Philippines - We don’t choose the life we are born into. I am, however, a firm believer that we get to build the life we want later on. How? Suppose Point A is where that blossoms. Think of Point A as revelation, the cusp of movement.
Five years ago, in a hotel room in the country that I now live in, I was exhausted yet intoxicated by the past six months, which found me mounting the first big international exhibition of my career. Packing my bags for my return trip to Manila, I rejoiced at the prospect of falling asleep on my bed at home the next day. I also rejoiced at my conviction that here in this country, where life is a run-on sentence, I knew I was meant to begin something that was wholly mine.
Art, kaleidoscopic and large, egged me on — who was I and what could I be outside of the good life my parents had so blessed me with? How would I pin down everyday life outside the confines of schedules largely involved with school and family obligations? Lessons on independence and the motility of “home” were broached and love was distilled to be the catalyst for everything. Knees-buckling love for art and later on, a man — two monosyllabic, tri-letter words that were, to be quite honest, completely synonymous to me. My Point A.
If my family had it their way, Manila would be home once and for all. But all disputes encountered regarding my leaving were put to bed quickly with the understanding that I was to do this on my own. My timelines established, there were several trips for the purpose of networking and pursuing leads. My mother stubbornly and sweetly ignored me every time I brought up my progress with finding employment in Hong Kong. Only then when I accepted a job offer from a gallery and relayed the words, “I’ve signed a contract, I’m leaving on March 5” three months before graduation, did she acknowledge it. And with a mother’s total love she responded, “I think we have some boxes in storage for you to pack your things in.”
That was two years ago. I remember the process of separation being long, manifesting in a shockingly unexpected way. The motions I made to leave things behind did not find their funerals in despedidas and the drop off at the airport. They came a year later: when I got married, when I adopted my first dog — when I realized my love for cooking and how I had direly underutilized my mother’s kitchen. Severance from my earlier life emerged when I left the gallery that brought me here in the first place so that I could start my own art agency and consultancy. Overhauls don’t happen overnight and even now, in my quiet little neighborhood, I sometimes still feel a little lost walking to the shops to buy groceries for dinner.
I cradle these moments of lostness. They are the pockets in which I stand by the crossroads, able to exercise my claim to decide for myself — left or right, soft or loud, wine or water? Or perhaps more profound things akin to the question: Where do I go now? Because Point A never got me to any specific Point B. For all the years I spent planning my move, my blueprint was only good until I stepped off the plane. Starting from scratch anywhere should be undertaken with clarity so stunningly powerful that it is impossible to map out anything else save for the one thing that throttles you forward.
Tend to your Point A. Coupled with guts, this is enough.
* * *
Zoe Dulay, 24, is the founder of Lightbombs Contemporary. She currently resides in Hong Kong.
