Art Chose Me
There’s a photo, somewhere in my parents’ house, of a little girl sitting at a table with a piece of paper and a marker in her hand. The joy on her face is incomprehensible, and the marker, or a crayon, or a pencil, could always be found in her hand. Fast forward about twenty years, and that hasn’t changed. That little girl is me. My life, like many others, has been an endless quest to find myself. Growing up I wanted to be a teacher, a marine biologist, an oncologist, an architect, even a criminal psychologist (thank you, criminal minds). I always ignored the fact that no matter what, the thing I found myself doing to relieve stress or occupy my time, even to make miniscule amounts of money, was drawing. When I was a teenager, I had severe social anxiety. I rarely spoke to people outside my immediate family and small group of friends. I always had a sketchbook with me, and to avoid talking to people I often drew if I wasn’t working on homework. Of course this didn’t work the way I wanted it to, and actually drew more attention to me. At first, this made me extremely uncomfortable, but the more it happened the more comfortable I got talking to people and as a result my social anxiety started to improve. I began being able to hold a conversation with someone new without completely shutting down or literally running to hide.
Flash forward to my freshman year of college; I’m a biochemistry major because I just had to pick the most difficult major I could to impress people. I was miserable, consumed by homework and equations and nearly failing test after test. I tried to study, but every time my note sheet turned into some intricate doodle. One day I decided enough was enough, and I finally took the plunge and changed my major from biochemistry to graphic design. Talk about a jump! I was finally happy. I finally felt like I belonged. I was creating art I was proud of, meeting people with similar interests, and feeling confident. That is where I feel I began finally learning who I actually was. I made incredible friends with similar interests, and was finally able to talk about my passion with people who truly understood. I was still consumed by homework, but found myself enjoying staying up all night in the studio, meticulously crafting hats out of paper or intricately stippling for hours until an illustration was absolutely perfect.
I won my first award for a piece I created at the end of my second year as an art major, after crafting a working camera from wood. That camera was my baby, it represented my ability to take an idea and make it a reality, no matter how difficult it may have been.
When I graduated in 2019 with a BFA in Graphic Design, I was convinced I was going to be making logos for the rest of my life, and working on “real” art in my “free time” (anyone know what that is? exactly). After about a year working as a graphic designer, I finally admitted to myself and my husband that I was completely miserable, so when it came time we decided I would become a stay at home mom and work on my art in my “free time” (yeah, I still thought that would be a thing!).
Now I’m a proud stay at home mother to the most incredible, sweet, funny little boy and I couldn’t be happier! On top of that, I’m an artist. I don’t live under the illusion that I’ll have endless time to dedicate to working on my art because I know that being a mother is a full time job and then some. But every now and then, during a nap, I’m blessed with a small window of opportunity, and that small window is where my work blossoms. In that small window, I am a working artist. Pencil or brush to paper, something beautiful is made, and I am at peace. There are usually only a few hours every week that I get to work, but the completion of a new piece, commission or otherwise, gives me the drive to keep on finding time. I don’t think I could ever stop being an artist, no matter how busy or tired I am. It’s not just something I enjoy, it’s a part of me. Of who I am. It’s in my blood, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
