It Started With a Crayon

One of my first attempts at portraiture.

I am often asked: when did you start creating? How did it all begin?

It started with a crayon.

And then things evolved. Crayola markers. Lipstick. The seven color pallet of watercolors. Play-Doh. Popsicle sticks. Charcoal. Pastels. Oils paints. Ink.

I tried new things. Sand drawings. Lite-Brite. Cross-stitch. Chalk on sidewalks. Scrap booking. Collage. Creating my own languages and planets. Making my neighbor's new baby a dress with fabric and duct tape. Magazines collages. Friendship bracelets. Paper plate masks. Cardboard box vending machines. Clay beads. Photography. Whittling. Ceramics. Food art.

I've experimented with surfaces. Coloring books. Nicely shaped rocks. Phone books. Cheap computer printer paper. Bananas. Church programs. School folders. Grocery bags. Restaurant napkins. Sidewalks. Bed sheets. Toilet paper. Sketchbooks. Clothing. Sneakers. People's arms. Walls. Masonite. Canvases.

I had schooling. My dad drawing silly animals for me at church. Art classes galore, including a  fun summer school class (think pinatas, cheese cloth ghosts and toothpick cabins). A painting major in college. I collected and read a whole lotta art books. Subscribed to Artist Magazine. Roamed the isles of the art section at the library. Sat in an overstuffed chair at Barnes and Noble with a tower of art books at my feet. Visited the Louvre, the MoMA, The Met. And then my old bestie Jason, helped me discover acrylics--and there was no turning back.

I've had influences. Street artists. Fashion designers. Bob Ross. Jason Orr. Teachers. Classmates. Charles Dwyer, Gustav Klimt, Vincent Van Gogh, Marc Chaghall, Frida Kahlo and J W Waterhouse. Johnny Depp. Oprah.

I had people who believed in me. Friends. My grandma Pat. The judges who deemed my work worthy of awards in junior high. My mom (forever and always my biggest fan). My brother Matthew. My favorite high school art teacher, Mr. Rees. My favorite professor Catherine Downing.

I've had some failures. Torn up, crumbled and slashed artwork. Lots of eraser marks. Being rejected a few times. The B- in figure drawing. Teachers who hated my work. Lots of tears. The times I wanted to quit.

And some successes. First place in Reflections contests two years in a row. Amazing compliments from strangers (I never get tired of those). Juried art shows. Solo exhibits. Artsy shops. A tattoo parlor. A crepe store. Magazines. Books. A couple of honorable mentions in college. Commissions. Two sweet girls from England who studied my art for a school assignment. A handful of prints sold. Over 60 original paintings sold. The times I decided not to quit.

So how did all this wonderful craziness begin?

It started with a crayon.