Catherine (Kay) Williams Memorial Arts Scholarship

“The Story Behind the Canvas” By Milana Borrelli They say art is the soul’s way of speaking—and for me, that couldn’t be more true. As a young woman from Florida, a first-generation student, and someone who has faced more than her fair share of loss and hardship, art has always been my sanctuary. Whether I'm wrestling on the mat or painting at my desk, I find freedom in expression, strength in color, and clarity in creation. The piece I’ve submitted is a watercolor titled “Unspoken.” It features a figure with a fractured silhouette standing in a field of wildflowers, their face turned toward a stormy sky breaking into light. The flowers are painted in vibrant hues—scarlet, cobalt, and gold—while the figure remains in black and white, symbolizing the contrast between the chaos within and the beauty of the world we’re still part of, even when we feel broken. This painting was inspired by my journey through grief after losing my father. His absence has been a silent presence in my life, something that can’t always be explained with words. Wrestling helped me channel my physical strength, but painting allowed me to express the emotions I had locked away. With every brushstroke, I’ve found a little more peace. When I paint, I’m not just creating—I’m healing. What moved me most about Catherine Williams’s story is how she found her artistic passion later in life and embraced it with such joy and dedication. I, too, understand how powerful art can be in helping us process pain and rediscover purpose. Like Catherine, I lose track of time when I’m working on a piece. Hours slip away as I focus on the shape of a shadow or the curve of a line. In those moments, the world quiets. I’m no longer the girl weighed down by financial worries or grief. I’m just a creator—free, focused, and full of life. Art has been my therapy, but it’s also become my vision for the future. I plan to study graphic design in college while pursuing a minor in business, combining creativity with strategy to eventually launch my own design brand. I want to create bold, story-driven designs that uplift and inspire—especially young women who need a reminder of their worth and power. With this scholarship, I’ll be one step closer to turning my dream into a reality without placing additional financial strain on my family. Being selected for this scholarship would be more than an honor—it would be a continuation of Catherine Williams’s legacy. Her dedication to creativity, even in the busiest chapter of her life, inspires me to never give up on my passions, no matter the obstacles. I hope to live out that same spirit by sharing my work, uplifting other young artists, and encouraging creative expression as a path to both personal and collective healing. Thank you for this opportunity to share my art and story. I hope my painting and my journey can offer even a fraction of the hope and inspiration that Catherine offered to those around her. And just like her, I will keep painting—not just for myself, but for the people who need to see that even in the storm, there’s still beauty, still strength, and always a reason to begin again.

Loss snatches you up when you least expect it. Starting my senior year, I was ecstatic to be in my final year of school. Nothing was going to stop me from having the "best year of my life", as they say in the coming-of-age high school movies. I have owned plenty of animals in my life- cats and dogs alike. At the beginning of my senior year, I had proudly owned a total of ten pets (four cats and six dogs). They were all unique in their own ways, but none were as unique as my tabby cat, Pumpkin Spice (Spice for short). He was an ambitious kitten. He would also climb on my dresser, knocking everything from it just to reach my bed. He always had to be by me when I was doing school work. Or when I was cooking dinner some nights. Or eating food. Or laying in my bed. Wherever I was, he was to follow in pursuit. This caused issues in my family, as they found him way too clingy or annoying. His sister, Mocha Latte (Mocha for short) was the absolute opposite. She was too shy, attracting everyone who flocked her way. She was talkative and extremely fluffy, too. A beauty, truly. Everyone liked her more than her brother. I was never drawn to the shy cats. My short-haired tabby was perfect. He was a reject, and it made him all sorts of cuter. He was purr-fect, just the way he was. August 31st, 2024, my 2-year old Spice passed away from something unknown. My mom refused to have him checked out by the vet the day before, when I had discovered something wrong with my cat after class. We didn't have money to go to the vet, so I couldn't resent her for long. I have had him since he was born. He was my cat. No one else in my family liked him as much as I did, and he thought the same. He would be there on my worst nights and my best mornings. He cuddled with me when no other animal would. He understood me more than any other animal I have had. As I write this, it has been 4 months since he has passed away. I don't sob when I talk about him anymore. Some nights when I'm alone, grief will strike me like a snake striking at its prey, slowly suffocating it with its coiled body. Every time I think I'm over it, I never truly am. This art piece was created before Spice had passed. It is for my AP Drawing exam come later this year. My art portfolio was to be about cats, but it has now been crafted into the loss of a pet. The art techniques used in this piece are stippling and shading. The materials used in this piece are a black ballpoint pen, graphite pencils, and stumps. Just like how this scholarship is about celebrating the life of art through Catherine, a passed loved one, my art showcases the celebration of life through a passed loved one (just slightly more furry). I hope my art conveys more than what meets the eye. Thank you for reading my submission.

Title: Routine Medium: Acrylic paint, embroidery thread Size: 3' x 5' Makeup is an integral part of girlhood. Whether or not you were allowed to wear makeup as a young girl supposedly defined the woman you would become in the future; Makeup too young meant you were trying too hard, but makeup too late meant you were unattractive. Growing up, I dug through my mom's collection of tubes and palettes, hoping to find something I could return to my room with and claim as my own. As a plus-size woman, I feel that makeup is one of the only ways I garner respect and 'redeem' my physical appearance. My morning routine is tailored to the application of makeup and drives the rest of my choices for the day. The use of pink throughout this piece represents traditional femininity and the 'standard' for what girls like. In addition to the pink, the use of embroidery for the flowers blends the femininity of the craft and the piece itself. Lilies represent innocence, but also rebirth. In choosing lilies for the embroidery, I strived to showcase the idea that while makeup began as a mask for me, I am able to reclaim it and use it as an art form instead. Embroidery and sewing have deeply feminine roots, most of these trades being passed from mother to daughter, or grandmother to granddaughter. In my case, my grandma taught me to embroider when I was 7, and I fell in love with the craft. Through my paintings, I try to hold all that she has given me in my heart and display the love I have for her onto my canvas. In using embroidery with this painting, I aimed to channel her femininity and grace into the flowers for the final outcome. I feel that blending these two differing mediums of creativity has opened doors for me to express my unique perspective on traditional feminine roles and stereotypes. Overall, my love for creating artwork has carried my grandmother's craft through time and allowed me to express my perspective on femininity and body image. Through the use of intimate spaces and moments, I hope to recount not only a universal morning routine for women but a universal moment of peace and understanding between women of all generations. Girlhood, over time, turns to womanhood and motherhood and allows us to share these intrinsic feminine experiences with our own daughters down the road.

Memories are timeless and personal and need to be honored. I have focused on intimate memories through emotional paintings. The tragedy of losing a loved one is sad, but I want to embrace the memories spent and look at death as one's celebration of life. Through my process, I explore allusive mark-making, colors, and textures that represent how I usually perceive depressing obstacles. I juxtapose these materials into a memorial of all the good times that have lasted in my memory. With the loss of loved ones in my life. I want the viewer to acknowledge grieving is a healing process. Through the creative power of personal expression, I can acknowledge loss through the celebration of memories and life itself. In this piece titled “ Mourning Print,” I was inspired to make a piece after the death of my guinea pig Espresso. After she died I was only left with the items that represented her while she was living. One of the items was a mould of her feet. So, I decided I wanted to make a painting to honor our bond together. The paw prints in the background were made by using the mould of her feet. I wanted to represent her, but not explicitly. Using a 3-D element in my piece was the route I decided on. No matter what, the memories we spent together are eternal. I will never forget the impact she made on my life. The central figure is me. Previously, this painting was left in my closet. I never had a true intent to finish it. It was nothing more than a simple self-portrait. After an epiphany, I was finally able to continue the once-discarded piece. The piece once represented me before the death of my guinea pig, but now continuing it represents my emotions after her passing. With this new narrative, I was able to complete my piece to honor the timeless memories I and my guinea pig shared. However, the piece was difficult to start. Reminiscing on the past is not easy, especially after making this piece so soon after her death. Although initially it was a struggle I was able to overcome myself only focusing on the unfortunate aspects of death, but instead I came to memorialize the good memories spent together. Though she was a guinea pig I want the viewer to understand the death of a pet is still an impacting death. It will never easy losing something, especially a pet.

This painting is titled Can't Fix Me. My inspiration for this painting did not fully strike until I was in the middle of painting it. My original plan was to simply paint a girl, whole and unbroken. Then, I decided that I wanted a stronger message behind it. The title describes the journey we take of trying to fix ourselves to satisfy the standards of others, and in the process, losing who we are. I was inspired by how strong this desire to fix ourselves is in high school. We are surrounded by hundreds of different opinions and standards, and I would feel as though I needed to change to fit into those boxes. I watched others carefully in how they would act, as well as the responses they got from others. Whenever I saw someone get a positive and validating response to who they were, I would feel as though I should be that way as well in order to receive that same validation. But, in the process, I found that I changed so much so quickly that I couldn't remember who or how I was in the first place. I had become so many different people except myself; my identity was everyone else's. Truthfully, it was a bit disorienting, as though I was lost. That's what this painting is about. The girl has tried to change so much that her original identity is breaking and fading away. Although, it's fading slowly. That's the worst part. When you change for others, you don't see it at first. It's slow. Small specks of yourself are fading away but you're too occupied to notice. Her eyes, which I worked to make look like she was looking at the painting's viewer, are almost begging the viewer for answers. She's asking what to do next, or worse, who to be next. But she's also crying for help. Losing yourself is a scary process. It's a choice you have to make of whether you will continue to change or try desperately to re-unite yourself with the only person whose opinions of you should matter: you. Although, change is also inevitable. As we grow and learn from our mistakes, we change. It's how that change affects us that matters. Are we being truthful and honest with ourselves, and who we want to be, or are we letting ourselves fall into self-destruction? This is the intended meaning of the painting, but I also want to open it up to interpretation. I want the viewer to hear the message that speaks to them and perhaps even see themselves in the girl. That's what I want my art to do: speak to and inspire others.