Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Litong Zeng. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Alright, Litong thanks for taking the time to share your stories and insights with us today. Can you take us back in time to the first dollar you earned as a creative – how did it happen? What’s the story?

I was 17 years old when I earned my first dollar as a creative. On the commission board of a social media platform, I found a client who wanted a logo design for her online shop, so I left my work in the comments. To be honest, I wasn’t much of a professional artist at that time, and my design was completely amateur. But I still managed to get the attention of one or two clients with my low price.

Actually, I wasn’t focused on making money at that time, as I was still a student and didn’t have much time. I left high school temporarily and traveled alone to Beijing for art training, where I painted from 8 a.m. until 10 p.m. every day. I was under tremendous mental stress because attending the training had nearly drained my entire budget. I knew that my financial needs would not be solved by my current level of skills, so I convinced myself to focus on my studies and think in the longer term. My move to look for potential clients on various social media was mostly driven by my insecurity. There were regular art tests during the training program, and I didn’t always perform perfectly. As I watched my classmates soar, I began to wonder if I was really making progress, and if I would be able to get into the art school I dreamed of. If I didn’t succeed, how was I going to pay back my bills?

So, in between my daily training, I kept searching for commissions and submitting my work. I think what I wanted was just proof—a validation that there were still people who would appreciate my art. It’s not that I lacked confidence; the harsh reality was that the number of people who could get enrolled was limited. Even if I was excellent, if there were enough people better than me, it would still be impossible for me to achieve my goal.

When I found a client willing to let me design a logo, I was ecstatic. I used my free time to complete the commission very carefully. The so-called free time was mostly late at night. The lights were out in the dormitories, but the corridors were brightly lit, and many students, like me, were still awake. We would take out our little stools and sit in the hallway, the sound of pencils brushing against paper echoing all night long. But unlike them, I wasn’t doing sketch assignments—I was secretly creating something unique. An artwork that may not have been professional or perfect, but that was infused with the beauty I felt at the time. After submitting it and making a few minor revisions, I managed to get paid. It was a very small amount of money, not enough to feed a person for two days, but it still comforted me.

Unfortunately, this comfort didn’t last long. My insecurity didn’t go away, and I tried to take on two more clients, but I wasn’t happy at all. I looked at my designs and thought they were ridiculous—how immature and lacking in highlights. Although the clients didn’t express any dissatisfaction, it was clear to me that none of the designs were good enough. It’s true that taking commissions can improve my skills and provide some mental and financial comfort. But as someone who truly values her work, that wasn’t what I should have been focusing on at the time. So, I stopped accepting commissions and returned to my studies.

A few years later, when I had grown, I earned hundreds of times that amount. I’m so glad I tried it then, as it gave me clarity on what I should really be doing. I’m good at learning through commissions, and with each one I completed, I found my weaknesses and tried to improve on the next. “How much money I’ve made” isn’t the most important point. “What can I improve on” is far more valuable. Since most clients are not professional art practitioners, their needs and suggestions for revisions may sometimes go against your aesthetic. As a creator, you must always identify your own shortcomings and find room for growth.

I think that’s what earning my first dollar as a creative taught me the most.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I started my artistic career as an illustrator. Over the years, working as an illustrator prompted me to reflect on myself. For a long time, my illustration style was fixed within a rather limited aesthetic, following prevailing trends. However, as I broadened my horizons and studied the work of other illustrators, I began to question my so-called “style.” Looking at my own work, I realized that the uniformity had lost its appeal.

At one point, I “gave up” illustration. This doesn’t mean I stopped illustrating altogether, but I briefly stepped away from my fixed approach and explored different possibilities with a fresh perspective. This exploration led to my discovery of a love for motion graphics. The expressive language of motion graphics is very different from static illustration, and its rich audiovisual experience allowed me to integrate my own unique expressive approach. I have a wide range of artistic interests, including literature, music, and dance. My exploration of motion graphics led to a breakthrough in the creative inspiration I had accumulated over the years. I was able to combine my own words and sounds into my new work, which allowed me to achieve a level of expression I couldn’t reach through illustration alone.

Today, I’m not just an illustrator. I’m also a video editor, animator, VFX artist, and motion graphic designer. I usually refer to myself as a “digital artist” to encompass all of these identities. I don’t want to limit myself, and I believe I’ll continue seeking new possibilities in digital media.

What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?

It’s funny to say, but for a long time, I didn’t think I would pursue an art-related career. I never thought about becoming famous as an artist. I never wanted to be remembered by everyone, but I do want my work to make a difference. When I was younger, even though I didn’t think I had much talent and didn’t dare to dream too much about my future, there was one thing I have always been certain of:

“No one can bring these things into the world except me.”

This is how my creativity works.

Yes, I’ve always been enamored with some marginalized, niche hobbies. Every friend with similar interests is invaluable to me, but more often than not, I am alone. Whether it’s my paintings, my writing, or any other form of work, there’s always some intent. I think this is my most sincere side—my feelings, my emotions, my thoughts, my life… and even my trauma and vulnerability, which I don’t want to share with others, are all revealed in my works. Art can’t lie, and what the audience sees in your work must be the truest version of you. Only in creation can I find an anchor point in my wandering and uncertain life, a way to discover the sense of “self.”

Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?

Many non-creatives feel that creating is for the “gifted” and that the ungifted are doomed to create nothing. This is a huge misconception.

How do we define talent in the first place? Some people are naturally sensitive to colors and shapes, some are born with loud voices or good pitch, and some are born with flexible limbs and beautiful bodies. These are all talents, but they are not the gifts necessary for creators. What creators need is very simple: the desire to express themselves. It is the creator’s destiny to express what they want to express in various forms.

People tend to misuse the words “effort” and “perseverance” when arguing about talent. It’s as if these two words exist to counterbalance the idea of “no talent.” On the other hand, many people have been playing games for years—is it because they are “making efforts and persevering”? Many people have been watching TV shows for years—is it because they are “trying hard” to do so? People tend to view suffering as the cost of achieving results. But in reality, many things we do well are not because we decided to “make efforts and persevere,” but because we want to do them—we can’t help doing them. If we’re stopped, we become restless, like someone starving for food.

I’m not underestimating the power of these words, but I think many people misunderstand them. What I’m trying to say is that passion itself is a “gift.” The desire or drive to do something is the root of effort and perseverance.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://noey.cargo.site/
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/noeynuoyi/
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/litong-zeng-b6370a275/