The reason I chose art as my career is rooted in both love and loss. It began when I was just a kid, sitting on the floor, watching my uncle draw. He was a great artist, the first one I ever looked up to. I remember how, with just a cheap box of crayons, he would bring entire scenes to life. One of my favorite memories is when he sketched out a tree and, with a few last touches, filled it with bright orange circles. Just like that, it became a beautiful orange tree. And before I left, he’d always give me a little drawing to take home, something to remember him by. But my uncle’s story is also a sad one. Drugs took his life when he was only 30. As time went on, the addiction took his memory. In the end, he didn’t even remember my name. That part still breaks my heart. He was so full of talent, and yet he was taken by something so destructive. Even though he’s gone, he’s never left my heart. He was the first person who showed me that art could be a gift, something you give to others, not just keep for yourself. After he passed, my grandma gave me a dusty old note she had kept tucked away. When I opened it, I found page after page of colorful drawings, poems, and stunning calligraphy, all created by my uncle. I never even knew he was that good at calligraphy until then. Holding that note in my hands, I felt something shift. It wasn’t just sadness. It was motivation. My grandma told me to keep it, to let it remind me of who he was, and to carry on the creativity he left behind. That moment was one of the first times I realized that art could carry memory. That it could preserve a piece of someone, even when they’re gone. I want to create stories and characters that stay with people. Whether through comics, games, or animation, I want to build immersive worlds that feel safe, healing, and full of heart. My dream is to create a graphic novel series, part fantasy, part deeply human, inspired by grief, memory, and resilience. I want to invite others into these stories and help them feel seen. Art has saved me in ways I can’t always explain. It helped me navigate grief. It brought me closer to someone I lost. It gave me a voice when I didn’t know how to speak. My artistic process is healing, it’s where I feel most alive, most present, and most myself. When I create, I feel connected: to my past, to others, and to something bigger than me. With new technologies like AI and digital tools, I’m excited by how much more accessible creation has become. However, I don’t see tech replacing soul. It’s our emotions, our losses, and our love that breathe life into stories. As a student of the arts, I want to keep that spirit alive. To blend innovation with heart. To honor the people and memories that shaped me, and to pass that gift forward. This is why I’m passionate about becoming a creative director. I want to use my creativity to help people feel seen, remembered, and loved, the way my uncle’s drawings made me feel. Through visual art, I want to continue telling his story, and write my own.

The reason I chose art as my career is rooted in both love and loss. It began when I was just a kid, sitting on the floor, watching my uncle draw. He was a great artist, the first one I ever looked up to. I remember how, with just a cheap box of crayons, he would bring entire scenes to life. One of my favorite memories is when he sketched out a tree and, with a few last touches, filled it with bright orange circles. Just like that, it became a beautiful orange tree. And before I left, he’d always give me a little drawing to take home, something to remember him by. But my uncle’s story is also a sad one. Drugs took his life when he was only 30. As time went on, the addiction took his memory. In the end, he didn’t even remember my name. That part still breaks my heart. He was so full of talent, and yet he was taken by something so destructive. Even though he’s gone, he’s never left my heart. He was the first person who showed me that art could be a gift, something you give to others, not just keep for yourself. After he passed, my grandma gave me a dusty old note she had kept tucked away. When I opened it, I found page after page of colorful drawings, poems, and stunning calligraphy, all created by my uncle. I never even knew he was that good at calligraphy until then. Holding that note in my hands, I felt something shift. It wasn’t just sadness. It was motivation. My grandma told me to keep it, to let it remind me of who he was, and to carry on the creativity he left behind. That moment was one of the first times I realized that art could carry memory. That it could preserve a piece of someone, even when they’re gone. I want to create stories and characters that stay with people. I want to build worlds through illustration and games, where people can feel safe, inspired, and understood. Art has saved me in ways I can’t always explain. It helped me navigate grief. It brought me closer to someone I lost. It gave me a voice when I didn’t know how to speak. My artistic process is healing, it’s where I feel most alive, most present, and most myself. When I create, I feel connected: to my past, to others, and to something bigger than me. This is why I’m passionate about becoming an artist. I want to use my creativity to help people feel seen, remembered, and loved, the way my uncle’s drawings made me feel. Through art, I want to continue telling his story, and write my own.

The reason I chose art as my career is rooted in both love and loss. It began when I was just a kid, sitting on the floor, watching my uncle draw. He was a great artist, the first one I ever looked up to. I remember how, with just a cheap box of crayons, he would bring entire scenes to life. One of my favorite memories is when he sketched out a tree and, with a few last touches, filled it with bright orange circles. Just like that, it became a beautiful orange tree. And before I left, he’d always give me a little drawing to take home, something to remember him by. But my uncle’s story is also a sad one. Drugs took his life when he was only 30. As time went on, the addiction took his memory. In the end, he didn’t even remember my name. That part still breaks my heart. He was so full of talent, and yet he was taken by something so destructive. Even though he’s gone, he’s never left my heart. He was the first person who showed me that art could be a gift, something you give to others, not just keep for yourself. After he passed, my grandma gave me a dusty old note she had kept tucked away. When I opened it, I found page after page of colorful drawings, poems, and stunning calligraphy, all created by my uncle. I never even knew he was that good at calligraphy until then. Holding that note in my hands, I felt something shift. It wasn’t just sadness. It was motivation. My grandma told me to keep it, to let it remind me of who he was, and to carry on the creativity he left behind. That moment was one of the first times I realized that art could carry memory. That it could preserve a piece of someone, even when they’re gone. I want to create stories and characters that stay with people. I want to build worlds through illustration and games, where people can feel safe, inspired, and understood. Art has saved me in ways I can’t always explain. It helped me navigate grief. It brought me closer to someone I lost. It gave me a voice when I didn’t know how to speak. My artistic process is healing, it’s where I feel most alive, most present, and most myself. When I create, I feel connected: to my past, to others, and to something bigger than me. This is why I’m passionate about becoming an artist. I want to use my creativity to help people feel seen, remembered, and loved, the way my uncle’s drawings made me feel. Through art, I want to continue telling his story, and write my own.

My favorite piece is "RESURRECTION", a 2D game concept I created from scratch. It all started one random afternoon when I texted my homie and said, “Hey bro, do you think it’d be cool if I create a game based on my characters?” That simple, casual thought ended up becoming one of the most meaningful projects I’ve ever worked on. Over the next five months, I poured my heart into building an original world from the ground up. I designed everything, from the characters and environments to UI elements and lore. The story follows a powerful witch traveling through time to uncover the truth behind the destruction of her kingdom. Furthermore, the game explores themes of memory, grief, and resilience, and I tried to reflect those feelings in every visual and narrative choice I made. Personally, this wasn’t just an illustration project, it was storytelling, character building, and emotional world-making all at once. There were times I doubted myself or got overwhelmed, but I kept coming back to the question: “What do I want people to feel when they see this?” That helped me stay grounded and push through. Lastly, "RESURRECTION" is my favorite because it’s the first time I saw my original characters come to life in a fully realized world. It’s a project that challenged me, taught me a lot about visual storytelling, and reminded me that the best ideas often start from the most unexpected places.

The reason why I chose art to become my career is a long story. It began when I was just a kid, sitting on the floor, watching my uncle draw. He was a great artist, the first one I ever looked up to. I remember how, with just a cheap box of crayons, he would bring entire scenes to life. One of my favorite memories is when he sketched out a tree and, with a few last touches, filled it with bright orange circles. Just like that, it became a beautiful orange tree. And before I left, he’d always give me a little drawing to take home, something to remember him by. But my uncle’s story is also a sad one. Drugs took his life when he was only 30. As time went on, the addiction took his memory. In the end, he didn’t even remember my name. That part still breaks my heart. He was so full of talent, and yet he was taken by something so destructive. Even though he’s gone, he’s never left my heart. He was the first person who showed me that art could be a gift, something you give to others, not just keep for yourself. After he passed, my grandma gave me a dusty old note she had kept tucked away. When I opened it, I found page after page of colorful drawings, poems, and stunning calligraphy, all created by my uncle. I never even knew he was that good at calligraphy until then. Holding that note in my hands, I felt something shift. It wasn’t just sadness. It was motivation. My grandma told me to keep it, to let it remind me of who he was, and to carry on the creativity he left behind. That moment was one of the first times I realized that art could carry memory. That it could preserve a piece of someone, even when they’re gone. I want to create stories and characters that stay with people. I want to build worlds through illustration and games, where people can feel safe, inspired, and understood. Art saved me in ways I can’t always explain. It helped me process grief. It helped me feel close to someone I lost. And now, I want to use that same creative force to help others feel seen, remembered, and loved.

My greatest achievement isn’t something you can frame or measure. It’s not a trophy, a title, or a moment of recognition. It’s the fact that I kept going after losing my uncle, the person who once felt like the center of my world. My uncle has always been one of the biggest influencers in my life. Throughout my childhood, he was a constant presence, always ready with a word of advice, a laugh, or a comforting hand on my shoulder. He played a huge role in my development, and I will always be grateful for the love and guidance he gave me. But addiction changed him. It started slowly, and at first, none of us saw the warning signs. Over time, drugs took away his memory, his personality, and eventually his life. Watching someone you love forget who you are is one of the most heartbreaking experiences anyone can go through. I remember visiting him in the psychiatric hospital, I will never forget the day he looked at me, with pale skin and dull eyes, and asked in a raspy voice, “Who are you?” That moment shattered me. I could not help but feel a sense of anger and frustration at the cruelty of life.  The day we got the call that he had passed away, my world fell apart. He died without ever remembering my name. That pain stayed with me for a long time. But over time, I learned something about myself. I learned how to grieve, how to heal, and most importantly, how to keep moving forward. Life goes on. I was a kid. School kept going. Days kept passing. The memories between us? Not as clear anymore. But no matter how blurry they get, he’ll always be an important part of my life. His impact doesn’t fade, even if the details do. I kept going. That’s what I’m proud of. I didn’t let it destroy me. I let it change me, in a way that makes me want to be more empathetic, more understanding. I think I learned what real grief feels like, and how to live with it. And in the future, I want to use that to help other people who feel alone, whether that’s through my art, my words, or just being someone who listens. Lastly, if you’re reading this, I hope you remember how serious addiction really is. Please take care of the people around you. Check in with them. Listen to them. Protect them. And whatever you do, don’t mess with drugs. It’s not just your life that changes—it’s everyone who loves you that ends up carrying the weight.

For me, just being alive, waking up, seeing my family and friends, sharing meals, and simply living peacefully, is one of the most beautiful things in life. After moving away from my home country and starting a new chapter in a completely different place, I’ve come to treasure these small, ordinary moments even more. Adjusting to a new environment made me realize how deeply I value the comfort of connection and the quiet beauty of everyday life. These real, human experiences now serve as one of my greatest sources of artistic inspiration. My passion for art began at the tender age of five. Growing up, I was deeply influenced by my dad, who worked as a skilled woodworker. He always had a collection of sketchbooks filled with detailed drawings of wood furniture designs in his locker. These sketchbooks fascinated me — I loved sneaking a peek at them whenever I could. What made those sketchbooks even more special was that they were more than just drawings; they were a window into creativity and craftsmanship. I remember stealing them quietly and spending hours tracing, doodling, and adding my own little touches to the sketches of chairs, tables, and cabinets. Those early moments were my first real connection to art. Now, as an artist, I find inspiration in the world around me: the way light falls through trees, the expression on someone’s face when they laugh, the feeling of home in unexpected places. Every texture, sound, and fleeting moment holds a story, and I want to capture those feelings through my work. Art, to me, is about reflecting life and sharing the quiet, honest emotions that often go unnoticed. It’s in these everyday moments that I find the heart of my creativity.

My passion for art began at the tender age of five. Growing up, I was deeply influenced by my dad, who worked as a skilled woodworker. He always had a collection of sketchbooks filled with detailed drawings of wood furniture designs in his locker. What made those sketchbooks even more special was that they were more than just drawings; they were a window into creativity and craftsmanship. I remember stealing them quietly and spending hours tracing, doodling, and adding my own little touches to the sketches of chairs, tables, and cabinets. Those early moments were my first real connection to art, not just as a pastime, but as a way to express myself and explore my imagination. Personally, I feel most creative at night, when I finally have time to lie on my bed and look at other artists’ work. There’s something about seeing someone else’s vision come to life that gives me this sudden urge to get off my bed, grab my brushes, or my tablet, and start creating. My creativity often comes as a sudden impulse. It’s not scheduled or calculated. It just "hits" me, and I follow that spark wherever it leads. But for a long time, I stopped following that spark. I’m Vietnamese, and my life has been full of challenges that shaped who I am, and how I make art. My family went through bankruptcy, and we had no money. Loan sharks showed up at our door, and life was filled with fear and instability. In middle school, I was bullied, and even my head teacher seemed to have something against me. Then, I had to leave my home and move to America, alone, leaving my mom behind. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. All that trauma made me push art away. I assumed it was just a waste of time, something I couldn’t afford to care about anymore. When I started applying to college, I remember telling my highschool ESL teacher that I didn’t want to pursue art. I wanted to choose a practical path, to earn money doing something more “realistic.” She spent hours trying to convince me. She told me I had potential, that I was good at this, and I shouldn’t throw it away. But I didn’t listen. Then something strange happened. At the very last minute, I changed my major to art. I couldn’t stop thinking about what she said. And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to believe that maybe she was right. I guess I do look good holding a brush, losing myself in the flow of creation. When I create, I feel alive. To stop doing art now would feel like giving up on that old self, the one who dared to imagine, who believed in the power of expression, even when everything else felt uncertain. After all, life has started to get better. I’ve found sincere friends who support me, and I’ve learned not to give up. Now, art is how I tell stories. I create pieces that reflect my identity, my struggles, my healing. I want people to look at my work and understand what I’m trying to say. I want them to feel something, even if they’ve never lived my story, maybe they can find a part of themselves in it.

My uncle has always been one of the biggest influences in my life. He has played a significant role in shaping me into the person I am today, and I am forever grateful for his guidance and support. Unfortunately, my uncle was a victim of addiction. Drug has taken away his life and changed him in ways we never imagined. It all started off innocently enough, none of us could have predicted the downward spiral that would follow, or the devastating impact it would have on our family. As time passed, his addiction worsened, with heavy hearts and a sense of resignation, we made the decision to send him to a psychiatric hospital. As we made our way to the hospital, the weight of the situation seemed to bear down on our shoulders. We held our breath as we entered the building, we knew it was the only way to save him, to give him the help and support he so desperately needed. Due to our busy schedule, my family was only able to visit him once a week. As a kid, visiting a psychiatric hospital was one of the most daunting and terrifying experiences in my life. I observed the patients roaming the halls, their blank stares, distant expressions, the muffled cries, and painful screams surrounding the building. Entering the room where my uncle was at. Looking at him, I was completely in shock. He was skin and bones, his skin became pale, his eyes were now dull, and his hands were bound in metal handcuffs. He stared at me and asked " Who are you? " In a raspy voice. In that moment, I sobbed uncontrollably. I could not help but feel a sense of anger and frustration at the cruelty of life. It was a gloomy day when the phone rang, the hospital's number appeared on my mom's phone. As I stood next to her, listening to their conversation, my world came crashing down. My beloved uncle has passed away. He passed away without ever remembering my name, adding another layer of grief and sadness to me. Years later, me and my dad made the decision to move to the U.S to seek a better life. Before leaving for the U.S, I visited his tombstone for the last time. Standing in front of his tombstone with burning incense in my hands. I proceeded to close my eyes and send my thoughts into the wind, asking for his guidance and protection in the hope that he would feel my presence and know that he was always in my heart. As a first-generation college student, I believe that college education is one of the most significant fundamentals to achieve success. By having this scholarship, I will have an opportunity to further my education, finding out my passion that will prepare me for my future career. I want to challenge myself to participate in extracurricular activities to obtain more valuable experiences and insight into many sectors to accomplish my academic goals. Through extracurricular and academic endeavors, I believe that my steadfast commitment will help me figure out how to reach my objectives. By sharing my uncle’s story, I hope we can prevent others from suffering the same fate as my beloved uncle by educating ourselves and those around us to never have a thought of trying drugs. After college, my long- term goal is to provide financial support to my family with the resources my career can provide. One of these days, I want to repay all they have done and be a daughter that they can be proud of.

My uncle has always been one of the biggest influencers in my life. Throughout my childhood, he was a constant presence in my life, always there to offer a guiding hand or a word of wisdom. He has played a significant role in shaping me into the person I am today, and I am forever grateful for his guidance and support. Unfortunately, my uncle was a victim of addiction. Drugs has taken away his life and changed him in ways we never imagined. It all started off innocently enough, none of us could have predicted the downward spiral that would follow, or the devastating impact it would have on our family. As time passed, his addiction worsened, with heavy hearts and a sense of resignation, we made the decision to send him to a psychiatric hospital. As we made our way to the hospital, the weight of the situation seemed to bear down on our shoulders. We held our breath as we entered the building, we knew it was the only way to save him, to give him the help and support he so desperately needed. Due to our busy schedule, my family was only able to visit him once a week. As a kid, visiting a psychiatric hospital was one of the most daunting and terrifying experiences in my life. I observed the patients roaming the halls, their blank stares, distant expressions and the muffled cries and painful screams surrounded the building. Entering the room where my uncle was at. Looking at him, I was completely in shock. He was skin and bones, his skin became pale, his eyes were now dull, and his hands were bound in cold, metal handcuffs. He stared at me and asked " Who are you? " In a raspy voice. In that moment, I sobbed uncontrollably. I could not help but feel a sense of anger and frustration at the cruelty of life. It was a gloomy day when the phone rang, the hospital's number appeared on my mom's phone. As I stood next to her, listening to their conversation, my world came crashing down. My beloved uncle has passed away. He passed away without ever remembering my name, adding another layer of grief and sadness within me. Years later, me and my dad made the decision to move to the U.S to seek for a better life. Before leaving to the U.S, I visited his tombstone for the last time. Standing in front of his tombstone with a burning incense in my hands. I proceeded to close my eyes and send my thoughts into the wind, asking for his guidance and protection in the hope that he would feel my presence and know that he was always in my heart. As the incense burned down to ashes, I found myself at ease, knowing that no matter where life took me, he would always be by my side. My uncle's passing has taught me many valuable lessons. I ‘ve learned that drug addiction is a devastating issue. It not only destroys lives, but it can also rob people of their memories and ultimately their identities. By sharing his story, I hope we can prevent others from suffering the same fate as my beloved uncle by educating ourselves and those around us to never have a thought of trying drugs. Furthermore, I hope everyone can spend more time with their family and their loved ones, it will be a decision you won't regret. I will keep the faith and overcome any obstacles that may come my way to achieve success and accomplish my goals.

As a member of LGBTQ community, the struggle for acceptance and equality is an ongoing battle. In a society that still is not completely inclusive or understanding of different sexual orientations and gender identities, it can be difficult to have the confidence and bravery to express oneself openly and freely. I am a bisexual. This realization came to me at the age of 14. Back to 2018, I had an opportunity to meet a girl through a video game. The moment I heard her voice, my heart skipped a beat. Her laughter was like music to my ears and her walks were so graceful and alluring. As I spent more time with her, I realized that my feelings for her were not just only admiration and friendship, they were something else because I found myself irresistibly drawn to her. Much later, I had enough confidence to confess my feelings to her, only to be met with disgust and rejection. She repulsed by the idea of being loved by someone who identifies as bisexual. However, I couldn't blame her. She is a Muslim; homosexuality is often considered taboo and condemned in her religion. So, it is crucial to navigate this situation with understanding, and respect. I realized that if we want to grow and evolve as individuals. It requires us to be brave, to face our emotions with honesty and courage, and to trust that letting go of the past will make room for new beginnings. I decided to move on and keep savoring the journey of life. Nevertheless, I have chosen to keep my bisexuality a secret from others due to the fear of judgment, rejection, and being treated differently. I am the first generation immigrant and college student who comes from a low-income family. I have encountered numerous inequitable situations that have made it difficult for me to access opportunities due to my background. Having to witness my dad works over 12 hours a day feels like torture. Hence, I firmly believe that my motivation to go to college is bigger than anyone else. College is often seen as a steppingstone to success since it provides students the opportunity to explore new ideas, expand your relationship, and develop skills that will uncover the purpose of life. Therefore, during my time in college, I want to challenge myself to step out of my comfort zone and figure out who I really am. Receiving a scholarship will give me an opportunity to achieve my objectives as I pursue my career in the field of business administration and graphic design, my long-term goal is to provide financial support to my family with the opportunities and resources my career can provided. I hope to spend more time and be able to take a good care of my family because they have afforded me the opportunity to savor the sweetness of life and the joys of this world. One of these days, I want to repay all they have done and be a daughter that they can be proud of. Furthermore, as a member of LGBTQ+ community. I understand the hardships and struggles that many individuals have to face in daily life. So, I plan to give back to the LGBTQ community by donating to organizations and charities that support LGBTQ rights and provide services for LGBTQ individuals in need. Moreover, I will use my success and financial resources to create opportunities for LGBTQ individuals to thrive in academic such as establishing a scholarship group/ organization like Star Farm Scholarship for LGBTQ+ Students because " All for one and one for all "-Alexandre Dumas.