The Happy Hue 10.0

Unleashing My Creativity: The Obsession That Changed Everything.

For reasons I struggle to elaborate on, I’ve been inexplicably transfixed and utterly obsessed with this thing— this character I’ve created—called The Happy Hue. To what end, you ask? Even that, I still sometimes wonder. 

I think about The Happy Hue quite literally all the time. On my walk to the groceries, when I wake up, while I am on a commute, when my mind drifts off at dinner—as it sometimes does—daydreaming about all the possibilities, in the shower, while I am eating, or before I go to bed. Those close to me and who have known me long enough can attest—I am in awe and spellbound by this thing I call the The Happy Hue. 

For the better part of my adulthood—no, actually correction— for the entirety of my adulthood, since I was twenty-one (the legal age of adulthood accepted by most jurisdictions), I’ve been engrossed, consumed, and at the mercy of The Happy Hue. This thing, this brand, this company, this character, this mission. 

I talk about it passionately. I’ve poured my heart and soul into every iteration. However, truthfully, I still sometimes find it challenging to explain what it is that I am trying to do with the hue. 

The Straightforward Idea

In 2013, the idea was straightforward. I wanted to create a blog of positivity and inspiration. I wondered why there couldn’t be a space online to report on joy, happiness, and beautiful things.

Why can’t there be somewhere to collect inspirational stories and catalyse a movement to live life in celebration? After getting a vote from close friends, I purchased the domain, paid for a Squarespace account, and started writing— The Happy Hue was born.

For years, I was diligent. I wrote restaurant reviews and spread the news about good-natured people doing cool things. I shared music that I loved. I wrote about health, wellness, the latest fitness trends, research on becoming healthier and stronger, and tips on how to love yourself more. 

I wrote about why fad diets are a lie, and on other days, I poured my heart out. I also wrote about meditation, the art of eating well. All while jumping from job to job, exploring the myriad of marketing roles while also working in the fitness industry.

To be fair, what I wrote then isn’t too different from what I’ve been writing on this Substack too. All my attention was always on my audience first. What do I think you want to know from me? How can I add value to your life? What is it that you’d like to know? 

I wrote about the books I read that others may find interesting. I shared my recollections on what I think my audience will find relevant. I debuted different recipes that I think might appeal to you. I even committed to a travel section and only included things I felt others may appreciate.

I never stopped to ask myself, is this really what I want to write about, or is it just what I think I should write about? The difference is minor, but you’ll soon understand why it’s significant as you keep reading.

I admit I was also initially too ego-driven and youthfully naive to publish on mainstream platforms. Equally stubborn to think, why should I waste my time on WordPress when I can have my own domain? Little did my early twenty-something brain realise that mainstream platforms existed because that is where the audience is! Duh! I clearly know better now. ;)

At the height of the lockdowns

At the height of the lockdowns, I incorporated and trademarked The Happy Hue. I started online sweat classes, from a short twenty-minute high-intensity class to an hour-long online group training session, and flexibility and mobility classes too.

The Happy Hue was also a personal training service that required clients to take personality tests. The Happy Hue was also a run club, a podcast, a YouTube channel, a playlist subscription and even an events provider servicing private membership clubs. 

Once on a Saturday morning beachside, with barriers up to keep everyone at a safe distance. Another time on a picturesque sunrise along the famous marina. Other times, we were squatting and sweating to a rendition of Robbie Williams’ Rock DJ track amongst a projection of virtual forests within the curated havens of private member clubs; where members were greeted with The Happy Hue’s home blend signature scent and a little yellow note of encouragement.

Those on the outside looking in might have seen success. I strangely felt unaccomplished and disconnected. Nothing felt the way I thought it would when I accomplished them. While I enjoyed many moments and met amazing people along the way, something still didn’t feel right.

I’ve since deleted everything across all platforms (though there are some tidbits below) because I was too embarrassed to have traces of my failures online. Truthfully, The Happy Hue still felt like a failure. But I also wanted a total rebrand when I began this Substack— a decade on, I am still entranced by this idea, The Happy Hue.

What was I searching for?

What was I searching for? What am I trying to achieve? I had no idea why I felt the way I did. Yet, I still knew that something deep down in my gut kept telling me to continue but also that I hadn’t quite got it right yet. Recently though, two distinct moments happened. 

One, I was listening to a conversation with Rick Rubin recently. I was reminded of one of his most significant pieces of advice from his spectacular best-seller, The Creative Act: A Way of Being (a book I highly encourage anyone creative or interested in creative work to read): how an artist should not create for the audience.

An artist's work is to share their purest expression as a gift to God (listen to the link from around minute 50). Like a diary entry, art is not about the result, nor is it for the recognition, accolade, success, or commerce.

A diary entry is personal. It’s created for itself as a vulnerable reflection of someone’s truth in that moment. Art is the same. Art is about creating what’s most honest in the moment of inspiration. The outcome of which and the monetary value is irrelevant. Like a diary entry, art is valuable in itself, regardless of how it sells.

The second moment was when I read Elizabeth Gilbert’s book, Big Magic. Towards the end of the book, there's a chapter where she talks about how important it is for a writer not to write for the audience but for themselves instead.

Even Gilbert admits, while Eat, Pray, Love was a sensational success— she wrote the book mainly for herself. Its meteoric rise still leaves her flabbergasted, though she admits it was a nice bonus that she’s grateful for. Yet utterly irrelevant to her writing process and why she wrote the book.

Of course, it’s natural for any human to want their art to be appreciated by others. Both Rubin and Gilbert acknowledge this human desire. Making money off your art is also an excellent cherry on top, but the work cannot be at the mercy of supporting your life. Neither should making money be the objective. Both highlight how they feel true greatness in artistry can only be born out of authenticity, and authenticity can only happen if the art originates from pure intrinsic intent. 

Writing is art.

Then, it all suddenly clicked for me. Writing is a form of art. For all these years, with The Happy Hue, I’ve been trying to create art, yet have either been severely distracted by trying to make it a success or was also constantly trying to please others. I’d try things for the sake of commerce, too. In other words, I have been attempting to make art by engaging in the rules of commerce, not art. 

For the better part of this decade, I thought about the audience first, as marketing wisdom prevails. Then, I’d define the ideal outcomes and strategise how to make it a success. 

I even created customer profiles to help me visualise my customer base. I imagined the life of my ideal members that detailed their ages, made a matrix about my target audience, and even created fictional storylines, likes, and dislikes for each imaginary client profile.

The Happy Hue is my art.

All this time, I’ve been trying to create art through the rules of commerce, not art. Yet, The Happy Hue is not commerce. The Happy Hue is my art.

Every word, every tilt on a graphic, and every colour combinations, each creation is in the name of expressing my most authentic self. The Happy Hue was founded on the values of finding your most authentic self. The Happy Hue is my creative medium to convey my honest truths—as an artist, not a salesperson. 

Yet, the irony is that even I didn’t realise this for a long time. All this time, the disconnection is because I’ve been unintentionally disguising my art for something else— an attempt at art, but by the rules of sales, commerce, branding, and marketing. 

I invite you into my art.

Over the next few weeks, I invite you to participate while I explore my art. While I can’t promise anything just yet, all I can say is that moving forward I will challenge myself to be vulnerable with you to present to you my most authentic expressions. 

It’s not that what I’ve written and shared wasn’t authentic. The difference is that all this time, I’ve been authentically creating what I think you, my readers and loving community might find interesting instead of creating from a genuinely inspired place. 

Of course, such things are never so black and white, and what you’ve been presented with on occasion are glimpses of that authentic expression I am seeking. But, as Rubin and Gilbert say, how can an artist present their most authentic truth if their main concern is about pleasing the audience? How can a diary entry be honest if it’s meant to be read by others?

From today onwards, The Happy Hue will be on an experimental journey. I will present my art to you. I hope you stay for this adventure! #HUEVOICES and #ANEWWITHTHEHUE will be segments that will continue, but everything else will be a playful investigation of what happens when I shift my intention. 

Thank you for your continuous support! I don’t take your trust for granted. :) Stay tuned for more updates. I am so excited for this new chapter to begin. I hope you are too.