My Last Shot at Georgetown
Fall 2017
My Senior Year of High School
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At age 5, I was a princess living in a castle. Well, I was actually just a normal kid in my normal house, but the castle and magic felt real to me while holding a green crayon. I felt like I was a real princess as I drew my King Daddy and Queen Mom together looking over their kingdom. My mom came alive on the page as I drew her fierce curls underneath her crown, as I drew her smile and imagined her fearlessness. 5 minutes later, upon completing this drawing, I found myself in a jungle and then on a boat. All I had to do was pick up a crayon and I could transport to a different world. I couldn’t ever seem to put the crayon down and travel back home.
Twelve years later, I grip my pencils with the same intensity and fall into my subjects' worlds with the same passion and oblivion. That first pencil stroke on an untouched sheet of paper still draws me in. That blank paper still transports me to a new and exciting world. The subjects of my drawings still become alive. I imagine the feelings and context of when the photograph was taken, and I still instantly travel out and away from my room. I decide that the little boy was bribed with candy to pose for the shot or that the smiling woman had just seen her grandchildren again. Doing this, I find myself in an impenetrable concentration. Once I finally break it, it’s as if the world begins to move again. Like it had been completely frozen for the hours I spent in silence with a pencil in hand. I notice that some of my senses become heightened after putting down my pencil; the loud volume of the clock ticking and air conditioning running startle me. I realize that the more focus and passion I put into my subjects and their worlds, the more oblivious I am to my own.
I didn’t start my art business intentionally. As a fourteen year old that just drew for fun, I had no idea what it would become. After watching me draw in my room, on planes, in cars, and on my kitchen table, my mom proposed a trade. She told me she would help provide some art supplies if I drew myself and my two brothers for her. I had no idea those drawings would be the first of hundreds. To support me and the unofficial beginning of my business, other relatives began to commission me. Relatives led to friends, friends led to mutual friends, and mutual friends led to strangers I had never met or heard of. Within a year, I was mailing commissions out to people in California and in Connecticut. Now, 4 years and 163 commissions later, I can’t imagine what I would do if my mother had not ___.
Sammie died before her second birthday. Her 13 year old sister, Savannah, contacted me weeks after her death. She commissioned three drawings: one of Sammie and her brother, one with her grandmother, and one with her whole family. This request has resonated with me ever since. I was asked to help memorialize a two year old girl through a piece of paper. I realized at that moment that everything I had been working for and all of the hours spent alone with a pencil could impact lives besides my own. The years of concentration and focus were put to use to help a grieving family. As it turns out, my art is not just about creating something I’m proud of and passionate about; it is also about creating lasting memories for people I’ve never even met.
Art is with me in every aspect of every day, regardless of if I am holding a pencil. I started drawing to find personal refuge, but I have now found myself a participant in the lives of every one of my subjects. I am present for all moments of joy, pride, innocence, and grief. Regardless of if I know the subjects, I am there with them at their graduations, weddings, birthdays, ______. For this reason, I see the world as my subject. I am inspired by the story of chalk covered boy in Nicaragua or the seamstress woman in Spain. I can’t help but turn our encounter into a lifelong, tangible memory through a pencil.
