Who I Am, Long Story Short

I spent over a decade helping corporations make millions. But the artist in me was dying.

Hi. I’m Edmund—an artist and art educator based in LA. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

For over a decade, I’ve worked behind the scenes at some of the biggest entertainment companies, visualizing the impossible and greenlighting their wildest, most psychedelic, unhinged fantasies. Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether I was sitting in a pitch meeting or on shrooms. Grand, outlandish ideas with budgets that stretched into the horizon. The sky’s the limit was every studio’s principal mantra.

Sometimes, it was hard to tell whether I was sitting in a pitch meeting or on shrooms.

Film, TV, advertising, theme parks, retail, video games, VR—you name the medium, I’ve probably worked in it. Alongside many brilliant minds, I pushed tirelessly against the limits of visual storytelling. The work was lucrative, often thrilling. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

The sensation was slight at first, like a soft pinprick. I ignored it. But it lingered and grew. Only when I looked back did I realize—I’d predicted this feeling as a student at ArtCenter, one of the most rigorous design institutions in the world.

Graduation terrified me—not because of the looming student loans or the unknowns of the real world, but because I had this dreaded sense of what the corporate world was about to do to me. I feared it would gently, with utmost corporate professionalism, flatten me into a cog. And for years, it did.

Of everything I learned and trained for, a fraction was ever used. Systems that ran the corporate machine were messy. Credit rarely found its way into the right hands. People who never held a paintbrush directed seasoned artists. Executives prioritized career optics over the projects themselves. I started to reminisce the days of creating art that meant something to me personally.

Every worthwhile path demands something from us, a willingness to leap before we are ready.

In 2022, I found the courage to step back from the studio track to pursue the artist’s path and returned to my love of teaching. They say the artist’s path is not without immense sacrifice and promised uncertainty. But what isn’t? Every worthwhile path demands something from us, a willingness to leap before we are ready. To be honest, the red flags made it all the more appealing—the uncertainty oddly comforting. I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve never felt more alive.

Fast-forward a few years: the art I create now bears little resemblance to my industry portfolio. I still take on select commercial projects—those that align with my values. I believe that the power of collaboration is unmatched, but it must be with the right people and intentions to serve the vision. The decade-long immersion into the corporate world taught me two important things: what I’m capable of, and what matters most. People. Community.

Art creates a profound connection between the artist and the audience; through that connection, both can heal.

I create from the heart now, works that reflect my lived experiences and invite others to connect with their own. In turn, I’ve witnessed a full range of human emotions—smiles, bursts of laughter, shock, puzzlement, even tears—from total strangers standing before my work. Some, so moved, adopt a piece of my world into their own. By contrast, amid the sea of corporate projects, I saw that kind of raw connection maybe once or twice, if I happened to be in the right place at the right time. It wasn’t the return on investment I was hoping for.

As the saying goes: Art creates a profound connection between the artist and the audience; through that connection, both can heal.

It only took me three decades, but now I’m beginning to understand what that really means.