Art to me is more than creation, it’s an expression of myself and a window into my soul. I have been an artist for as long as I can remember. Art has always been a part of me, it’s always been with me. I started out drawing on any paper I could find with my grandma’s various sharpies, begging her for them daily. Even then, I showed a better understanding of art than other kids my age. In kindergarten, I insisted on drawing a whole scene on every worksheet, complete with my family and lots of trees. This meant that I was always late to turn in my assignments, and my classmates got annoyed with my hogging of crayons.
As a preteen, I was gifted an iPad, on which I downloaded my first drawing application. It left a lot to be desired, but I loved creating art digitally. I created primarily digital art up until high school. Then, in high school, I discovered my deep love for pencils, and putting those pencils to physical paper, instead of a digital screen.
For my whole life, I had created art just for fun, just to create silly characters, or draw some flowers. But in high school, that changed. I started getting bullied and harassed relentlessly. Not just by one bully either—but by multiple girls. I became depressed, and didn’t know how to deal with my feelings. I had no friends anymore, and was reserved. Art called out to me, and held my hand as it brought me out of my slump. I started creating self portraits. But they were unlike other self portraits or anything my other classmates were making. My portraits were bloody, full of pain, and also pills. People didn’t understand my art, but I did, and I finally felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I finally got these feelings out.
Then, in June of 2023, I was in a car accident. I was in a collision with a Jeep, and although I was uninjured, the driver of the Jeep was killed, and his son was severely injured, requiring multiple surgeries. This still weighs on me heavily— the idea that maybe I could have prevented this death if I had told my boyfriend, who was driving the car I was in, to watch out. But I didn’t.
I didn’t know how to deal with this either. How does someone deal with seeing a man die on the street, and his son be pulled out from under their mangled car? Again, art came to save me. I created multiple pieces all about this crash, and I do get many odd looks. Sometimes I wonder if my art is too weird or out there, but one of my pieces ended up as a runner up in a New York Times contest, so I must have something that other students don’t.
Although I’m not sure if I’ll work with art for the rest of my life, I am sure that I will always be creating art to express myself, even if I don’t create art for my career.
The arts are important to me, because when I have nothing, I have art.