Hi, my name is Brian Villers. I'm a first-generation college student in my 50s, pursuing a degree in Graphic Design at Colorado State University. Like Kalia, I believe in living with excellence and never giving up on your dreams — mine just took a little longer to find. After 25 years in welding and manufacturing, I made a life-changing decision to go back to school. It wasn't just about changing careers; it was about changing my entire life and finding ways to give back more meaningfully. I've had my share of struggles, including addiction, but recovery taught me that our lowest points can become our greatest strengths. Now I spend much of my time helping others rebuild their lives. I lead Celebrate Recovery groups at the Fort Collins Rescue Mission and my church, showing up consistently because I know how much it matters when someone believes in you. Every week, I volunteer with Vindeket Foods, driving a refrigerated truck to rescue thousands of pounds of groceries that would otherwise go to waste. I also mentor men coming out of addiction at Harvest Farm — the same place that helped me when I needed it most. Like Kalia served on the Black Student Union executive board, I've learned that real leadership means lifting others up. Sports were part of my life growing up — middle school basketball and later intramural volleyball. I wasn't the best athlete, but I loved the team atmosphere and learning to show up for others. That same spirit drives me now, just in different venues. I believe life is a team sport, and we all need each other to win. Right now I'm balancing school, helping my family, and working to build a nonprofit called CR Foco to expand recovery services in our area, especially for young people. One big reason I'm pushing so hard is my daughter, Noelle. She's in college too, working toward a degree in music education. I want her to see that it's never too late to dream big, start again, and live with purpose. We've even done homework side by side at the kitchen table, encouraging each other through late nights and tough assignments. My wife currently carries most of our household income while I work part-time gigs to help make ends meet. Money is tight and the stress is real. This scholarship would ease that pressure so I can keep showing up for my family, my studies, and the people I serve in recovery. More than the financial help, being chosen in honor of Kalia — someone who clearly lived with the work ethic, kindness, and drive to excel that I strive for daily — would mean everything. I may not have the perfect résumé, but I do have a heart that's all-in and a track record of turning my life around to help others do the same. I'm building something that matters — not just a new career, but a legacy my daughter and community can be proud of. Like Kalia, I'm committed to living, loving, laughing, and learning every day. Thank you for considering me.

# David Cross Design Arts Scholarship Essay - Revised At 52 years old, pursuing a degree in graphic design and photography isn't about starting a career—it's about answering a calling. My passion for design comes from a deep, personal need to bridge creativity and healing. I've spent the past seven years in faith-based recovery work, leading Celebrate Recovery groups in prisons, shelters, and churches. These environments often lack the resources to present their work with the dignity it deserves. That's where design comes in—not just to make things look better, but to tell stories that restore hope and dignity to people in crisis. One of the most meaningful projects I've completed is my "Mental Health Stamps" series. Each stamp represents someone close to me who's been impacted by mental illness: my daughter lives with bipolar disorder, I live with anxiety, my father carries PTSD from Vietnam, and my brother-in-law tragically ended his life in a murder-suicide after battling psychosis caused by undiagnosed CTE. I created these stamps to humanize mental illness—to show faces, not labels—and to use design as a tool for empathy. The work lives in my online portfolio not just as art, but as testimony. These stamps serve as a visual conversation starter to reduce stigma and spark awareness. The projects that move me most are ones that carry this kind of personal and social impact. I want to create branding, posters, and awareness campaigns for nonprofits working with addiction, homelessness, and mental health. These organizations often have the heart but not the budget for compelling visuals. I want to be the bridge between grassroots service and professional-level design. I've also begun using photography to document life inside recovery meetings and food rescue missions. I volunteer weekly for Vindeket Foods, rescuing thousands of pounds of food from being wasted. With my camera, I capture the dignity of volunteers, the beauty in reclaimed produce, and the unseen faces behind community resilience. My lens isn't focused on perfection—it's focused on truth. I've worked in Adobe Illustrator, Photoshop, and InDesign, and am now exploring motion graphics and short video storytelling. Digital tools give me the ability to match the emotional tone of a story to its visual execution. Design isn't just visual—it's emotional translation, and the digital toolbox lets me amplify those stories across mediums and platforms. This scholarship would allow me to stay focused on school and service instead of having to sacrifice either to meet basic expenses. More than that, it would be an investment in someone using design as a spiritual and social tool—someone who believes design can heal, illuminate, and empower. I'm not pursuing this degree for a title. I'm pursuing it so I can help others believe in their own worth again—through powerful visuals, honest storytelling, and compassion that can be seen and felt. **Portfolio Link:** https://www.frownedupondesigns.com/graphic-design-portfolio

I'm 52 years old, and I'll be honest - going back to school at this age is scary, but I know it's what I need to do. Like Debra S. Jackson, I am returning to formal education because life has shown me a deeper calling that requires new tools and knowledge. My journey has been marked by struggle, recovery, and ultimately, service. Years of battling addiction taught me the devastating impact of untreated mental health issues and substance abuse. But more importantly, my recovery journey revealed my life's true purpose: helping others find their way back to hope. For six years, I have been mentored by Pastor Jeff Faust and have grown into a leadership role at Vineyard Church of the Rockies, where I now lead Celebrate Recovery. What began as my own healing process has evolved into guiding dozens of others through similar journeys. I've watched broken lives rebuild, families reunite, and individuals discover their worth again. This experience shaped my core values: every person deserves dignity, second chances, and professional-quality support regardless of their circumstances. However, I've witnessed a critical gap in how we serve vulnerable populations. Many nonprofits working with homeless individuals, mental health centers, and recovery organizations struggle with outdated materials and unclear messaging that doesn't reflect the inherent worth of the people they serve. These organizations often cannot afford professional creative services that could dramatically improve their outreach. That's when it hit me - I could combine both things I'm passionate about. I am pursuing education in graphic design and photography alongside my alcohol and drug counseling license. This will allow me to serve my community on multiple levels – creating compelling visual communications that break through stigma while providing the direct human connection that sustains recovery. This isn't about getting a degree to advance my career. At 52, I'm way past that. This is about doing better for the people who trust me to help them. Like Debra Jackson, I plan to leverage my creative and clinical training to elevate the conversation around addiction, homelessness, and mental health. Professional-quality design and photography can transform how society views these issues, while evidence-based counseling practices provide support that truly saves lives. The financial reality of returning to school at this stage while maintaining my current community commitments presents significant challenges. This scholarship would provide crucial support as I balance coursework with my ongoing leadership responsibilities at Celebrate Recovery, allowing me to focus on studies without compromising the service I provide to individuals who depend on our program. Here's what I want to happen after I graduate: a future where every nonprofit serving vulnerable populations has access to professional-quality creative services, where recovery programs are supported by counselors who understand both clinical and creative aspects of healing, and where communities have leaders who bridge the gap between professional services and grassroots support. At this stage of my life, I'm not pursuing education for traditional career advancement. I'm seeking tools to amplify the impact I'm already making and to demonstrate that second chances – whether in recovery or education – can create extraordinary transformation. Look, I'm not going to lie - I need this scholarship. But it's not just about the money; it's an investment in a vision where art, education, and healing converge to create lasting community change. Just as Debra Jackson's return to education opened new doors, my educational journey will enable me to serve at a level worthy of the trust my community has placed in me.

Art has the power to transform lives, and I believe this transformation happens not just through beauty, but through connection and understanding. My passion lies at the intersection of visual arts and community education, where graphic design and photography become tools for healing and hope. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand how addiction and mental health challenges can devastate families and communities. These experiences ignited my desire to serve those facing similar struggles, but I knew I wanted to approach this mission differently. While many focus solely on direct counseling, I recognized that effective outreach requires compelling visual communication that breaks through stigma and reaches people where they are. My educational journey is preparing me to bridge the gap between professional creative services and community need. Through my studies in graphic design and photography, I'm developing the technical skills to create high-quality visual content that nonprofits desperately need but rarely can afford. Simultaneously, I'm working toward my alcohol and drug counseling license, understanding that true community impact requires both behind-the-scenes support and face-to-face connection. This dual approach reflects my belief that education and the arts must work together to create lasting change. Visual literacy is cultural literacy – when we help organizations communicate their missions clearly and compassionately, we're educating the broader community about resources, reducing barriers to seeking help, and challenging misconceptions about addiction and mental health. My plan is to provide professional-quality graphic design and photography services to nonprofits serving homeless populations, mental health centers, and recovery organizations. These groups often struggle with outdated materials, unclear messaging, or imagery that doesn't reflect the dignity of the people they serve. By offering my creative skills, I can help them reach more people who need their services while elevating the conversation around these critical issues. Concurrently, I will run recovery support groups, applying my counseling education directly to help individuals navigate their healing journeys. This combination allows me to impact my community on multiple levels – creating the materials that bring people to services and providing the human connection that keeps them engaged. Like Alice M. Williams, who helped first-graders read at fifth-grade level by exceeding expectations, I want to exceed what people expect from both artists and counselors. I want to show that creativity and clinical practice can work together, that beautiful design can serve social justice, and that every person struggling with addiction or homelessness deserves materials and services that reflect their inherent worth. Through my degree, I'm not just learning skills – I'm preparing to be a bridge between worlds that too often remain separate. My community will benefit from having someone who understands both the power of visual storytelling and the complexity of human healing, someone committed to ensuring that the most vulnerable among us have access to both professional-quality resources and genuine human connection. This scholarship would support my mission to prove that when arts and education combine with compassion, extraordinary transformation becomes possible.

I'm Brian Villers, a 52-year-old first-generation college student pursuing Graphic Design at CSU. My journey to this place has been marked by transformation — from personal trauma and addiction to becoming a leader in Celebrate Recovery and mental health advocacy. But my understanding of mental health's devastating reach deepened when it struck my own family in ways I never imagined. Personal and Family Struggle My own recovery from trauma and addiction taught me that healing is possible, but mental health doesn't discriminate. At 18, my daughter had a 4.25 GPA and was headed to Reed College in Oregon — a bright future ahead. Then bipolar 1 disorder emerged, and everything changed. She ended up living on the streets in a manic state for over a year, struggling with addiction alongside other young people in Boulder. As a father and someone in recovery, watching my daughter's descent was devastating. I created a photo journal documenting her experience and the other kids living on the streets, using drugs like fentanyl. This wasn't just advocacy work — it was a parent's desperate attempt to understand and bear witness to a crisis that was consuming my child. The photos captured both the humanity and the heartbreak of young people lost in mental health and addiction struggles. My beliefs about mental health have been shaped by both sides of this battle. As someone in recovery, I learned that addiction and trauma are not moral failings but conditions that respond to community, compassion, and consistent support. As a parent watching my daughter struggle, I've learned that mental health crises can strike anyone, regardless of intelligence, family support, or opportunity. I believe mental health awareness isn't just about conversation — it's about community, dignity, and creative expression. It's about recognizing that brilliant young people can be derailed by brain chemistry, and that our response must be rooted in love, not judgment. My daughter continues to struggle at 21, but I've seen glimpses of her resilience and potential. This reinforces my belief that no one is beyond help, and that the right support at the right time can save lives. These experiences have profoundly affected my relationships. My 33-year marriage to my wife has been tested and strengthened as we've navigated both my recovery and our daughter's mental health crisis. We've learned to support each other through trauma while maintaining hope for our daughter's future. My relationships in recovery communities have deepened as I've shared not just my own story but the ongoing pain of watching a child struggle. This vulnerability has allowed me to connect with other parents facing similar challenges and has enhanced my ability to lead with empathy and authenticity. Over the last several years, I've dedicated myself to creating safe spaces for those in crisis — leading recovery groups at my church, the Fort Collins Rescue Mission, and even a prison program in Sterling. My volunteer work with Vindeket Foods brought rescued nourishment to families in need, and now I'm co-founding CR FoCo, a faith-based nonprofit centered on trauma-informed recovery. My choice to study Graphic Design is deeply personal and urgent. I design materials — flyers, branding, social media visuals — that speak hope and healing to people who feel unseen. My vision is to use design as a tool for transformation, helping nonprofits tell powerful stories that reduce stigma and bring people back from the margins. Every design I create is informed by my daughter's face, by the young people I photographed on Boulder's streets, by the knowledge that effective outreach and compassionate messaging can be the difference between life and death. My career aspirations extend beyond traditional graphic design. I want to specialize in visual storytelling for mental health organizations, creating campaigns that reach young people in crisis and their families. I want to develop resources that help parents navigate the mental health system and advocate for their children. The photo journal I created of my daughter's experience isn't just documentation — it's the beginning of a larger project to humanize mental health and addiction struggles through powerful visual narratives. This scholarship would ease financial strain, allowing me to reduce gig hours and invest more in design projects that highlight mental health voices, from youth outreach to digital campaigns. More importantly, it would support my mission to create a world where young people like my daughter have better access to mental health resources and where families don't have to navigate these crises alone. My daughter's story is still being written. My recovery continues daily. But both experiences have taught me that mental health awareness must be backed by action, community, and creative expression that breaks through stigma and reaches people where they are. Thank you for supporting artists and advocates who are working to make mental health visible in every corner of our community, especially for the young people who need it most.