I’ve Been Thinking About This Since I Was 3

On my third birthday, my grandparents gave me the gift of my first art supplies.

That day sparked a lifelong passion for art. I felt like I was doing something I was meant to do.

My grandfather was an oil painter, and he was one of my closest friends and greatest influences during my childhood.

We spent hours together creating, him working on oil paintings and me banging on piano keys, scribbling on every piece of paper I could find, and painting with cheap watercolors.

Growing up, I exploded with creativity.

I won art contests, writing contests, and reading contests.

I made so many drawings, my mom made me draw over the originals because she couldn’t keep up with the amount of paper I used.

My award-winning drawing depicting an old bathroom and a modern bathroom. It was accompanied by an essay for my town’s centennial celebration. Way to go, first grade me!

And then… life. Like so many other creatives, I grew up to be told art was not a career or a livelihood.

I grew up in a small town where art wasn’t a career path (population maybe 1,200, and that’s stretching it).

Now I’m in my 40s, still wondering, “what if?”

I don’t regret my career path, but I do regret not believing in myself or my abilities.

And yet if I hadn’t taken my path, I wouldn’t have the knowledge I have now.

Knowledge that serves me as an artist.

I’ve been thinking about being an artist for forty years. Now I’m going to see where my true passion takes me during the next forty.