[A DIY Study Abroad Starting with Just a Pen] Ep.5 Money vs Dream

Pen Artist Ha-jung Lee Series

[A DIY Study Abroad Starting with Just a Pen] Ep.5 The Edinburgh Artist

A sharp, heavy chill bit at the tip of my nose. Edinburgh, Scotland. The city's dark, medieval stone buildings stood tall amidst the fog, making every step feel like walking straight into a movie scene.

Here, I stayed in an Airbnb hosted by an artist. A German immigrant, she was a true polymath—composing, taking photos, drawing, and playing the piano. She had crossed borders alone, building a life centered around her art in a foreign city.

I thought I had finally let go of my obsession with "skill" and "efficiency" after my realizations in London's grand museums. Armed with a solid determination to create "powerful design," I had moved on to Scotland. But it wasn't long before the voice of realistic anxiety started creeping back into my mind.

"Can I really make a living as a creator?" "Is it possible to do authentic work and still make money?"

My impatience had simply shape-shifted from "skill" to "survival," once again grabbing hold of my ankles. To an anxious mind like mine, the host's daily routine—which I watched unfold every evening—seemed like a bizarre series of habits that defied all common sense.

A Backpack Full of Chocolates

As dusk began to settle, she unfailingly grabbed her heavy backpack and headed out the door. I assumed she was carrying her art supplies, but when I caught a glimpse inside, her bag was packed full of chocolates.

"What are all these chocolates for?"

"Oh, I'm heading out to play the piano. I'll hand them out one by one to the kids listening to my music on the street."

Every evening, braving the chilling winds of Edinburgh, she went out to the streets to play the piano. Whenever passersby stopped to listen, she would hand chocolates to the children, offering them a bright, radiant smile.

It wasn’t a paid gig, nor was she aggressively busking for tips. She was simply someone who found joy in having people listen to her play, giving away chocolates she bought with her own money. Through my eyes, it seemed like a hopelessly inefficient, unproductive waste of time.

Unable to shake the calculating mindset of my former UI designer days, I couldn't hold back my incredibly pragmatic questions. If you play for free every night and give away chocolates, how do you sustain yourself? Aren't you anxious about the future? Isn't it exhausting dealing with people constantly asking how you make money?

At my barrage of impatient questions, her fingers abruptly stopped flying across the keys. She gave a slight shrug and offered just one phrase.

"This is my life."

"This Is My Life"

Wrapped within that short answer was everything I had been desperately searching for. She knew exactly what made her happy, willingly crossed borders to protect it, and went out to play the piano every single night without a shred of hesitation.

She had pieced together her livelihood by combining composition, photography, illustration, and hosting her Airbnb. Through her Instagram and portfolio website, she had been introducing herself to every person she met with the exact same message for over twenty years.

"I am an artist who makes these things."

Her conviction and pride had been built over decades. In the face of that, my anxiety—shaken by immediate profits and the gaze of others—felt incredibly small.

Despite my vow to create "powerful design," I realized I was still hovering around the superficial shell of needing to "get famous to make money."

What truly matters isn't technique. It’s the attitude of deeply loving your work and silently enjoying the process, even if it’s inefficient and unprofitable.

It’s the pure immersion in the simple act of drawing lines and completing an illustration—just like the way she smiled while handing out chocolates. I was finally laid bare, realizing that my constant impatience stemmed from losing that very purity.

My Own Tempo

In the thick fog of Edinburgh, the last remnants of impatience that had clouded my drawings began to lift.

I didn't need to be shaken by people asking how I make money or telling me I need to get famous first. I had to establish the identity I wanted at my own pace and live it out. I realized that only when rooted in that unshakable affection could I connect with the world through the most "authentic design."

The melody of her piano is probably still echoing through the night streets of Edinburgh. That melody handed me three clear compass points.

First, stop chasing the expectations of others and focus on my own direction and tempo. Second, stand proud and confidently declare my identity as a creator, anywhere and anytime. And finally, before chasing money or fame, always ask myself in every moment: "Do I truly love my art and am I genuinely enjoying it?"

To the rhythm of her piano, my sharp 0.05mm pen began to move lightly and firmly across the paper once again.

(End.)