On Anonimi
It's Italian and means anonymous. I don't speak Italian. I just like the sound and shape of "anonimi."
On June 15, 2017, my husband took me to the Fundació Joan Miró in Barcelona. I don't have any background in art, nor did I have any interest at the time. So I went unwillingly. It turned out to be one of my favorite places. Later we bought a book called I Work Like a Gardener. Towards the end of the book, Miró had something to say about being anonymous.
I've always wanted to remain anonymous, which is somewhat cowardly in my parents' opinion.
Like many traditional Asian parents in their generation, they wanted kids to have some "fame" in the name of love. Be it a big career title in a prestigious firm or entrepreneurship where I could talk the fancy talk or something that one can make big bucks out of and brag about. In essence, it's fame and the "face" culture.
In early 2017, I had just quit my full-time job in a maybe big-name firm. What plans do you have? They asked. "I'm going to travel and take a break for a year." They did not like my answer. I could feel their disappointment, which in later years they did not hesitate to express expressively. I didn't hold an important position in that firm, just a minion who was easily replaceable. It occurred to me that the first question my dad asked my now-husband was, "what's your 10-year plan?" We only dated for less than a year then.
Of course, my parents love me deeply. I'm privileged. They provided me with anything and everything they thought suitable for me. It's the life they tried to pave that bothers me. Or rather the fact that they think they know me, but they don't.
In an anonymous state, I feel free to speak, create, feel, and strive with more purpose. I want the limelight to shine on whatever I make, not on me. I want to hide behind my work and the work being remembered, not myself. So yes, I am ambitious. I want an unconscious effort and be good with its result. But I don't desire the "fame" they expect. I don't remotely qualify either.
"Anonymity allows me to renounce myself, but in renouncing myself I come to affirm myself more strongly. In the same way silence is a denial of [sound], but as a result, the slightest [sound] in silence becomes enormous."
Miró’s words struck me.
Over the years, I try to reconcile feelings towards my parents in this particular regard. It's a good practice of appreciation and gratitude. But I have come to realize more and more that anonymity is my identity.
I'm interested in the flower world's collective effort - a weird stem, a bruised petal, the lusciousness of a well-manicured garden, the unthinkable of the wilderness. The most extraordinary power doesn't lie within each individual being, but the symphony of them as a whole. Together, they are the most profound reflection of seasons, beauty, and stories that nature wants to tell. And in turn, everyone develops even more penetrating individuality because the story tremendously respects their subtleties.
Flowering is the way.