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Hana Mullen

1x

Finalist

1x

Winner

General information

Hobbies & Interests

  • Violin
  • Drawing And Illustration

Reading

  • Fantasy
  • Adventure
  • Historical

I read books multiple times a month.

Bio

Before my sophomore year, I told my dad I would never shade my drawings. It wasn’t my style—I preferred anime-inspired line work. Later that year, I received a Sarasota Regional Scholastic Art & Writing American Visions Award for a richly textured, shaded fantastical drawing. Along with two Gold Keys and a Silver Key, I discovered not only a creative talent, but an ability to imagine, design, and express ideas visually. In my junior year, I earned a National Scholastic Gold Medal, a Regional Gold Key, and three Silver Keys. By then, I knew I was headed toward a career in art. My rigorous coursework at Pine View School fostered an analytical mindset, reflected in my 3.9 GPA, but my instinct remained that of an artist. The summer before my senior year, my dad searched for a new accessible van. His gear-shift options were uncomfortable, impractical, or visually jarring—one resembling a beach shovel taped to the dashboard. Disabled myself, I know that design drawing attention to difference can feel isolating. Where he saw frustration, I saw opportunity. Accommodations need not be purely functionalist; they deserve to be aesthetic. By studying the intersection of design and accommodative engineering, I aspire to create work like the Guggenheim’s spiraling ramps—art that is beautiful because it is accessible. Now, as a senior and Scholastic Gold Key portfolio recipient, I plan to explore this union of art and science. I have applied to leading industrial design programs like Georgia Tech, and RISD. By making the world more accessible, I believe we can make it more beautiful.

Education

Pine View School

High School

2017 – 2026

Miscellaneous

Desired degree level:
Bachelor's degree program
Majors of interest:
Industrial Engineering, Design and Applied Arts, Marketing
Desired degree modality:
Full-Time
Medical school interest:
No

Career

  • Teen Arts Council Member

    Arts · Sarasota Art Museum

    Jan 2024 – Jan 2025

Miscellaneous

Dream career field:
Design
Dream career goals:
Whether it's working on Apple’s assistive touch, ability-specific furniture for Ikea, or modified clothing by Adidas or Nike, I believe that by making the world more accessible for all, I believe we can make it more beautiful too
Work experience:
1 year
Has nursing license:
No

Future Interests

  • Advocacy
  • Volunteering
  • Philanthropy
  • Entrepreneurship
Carolyn Craddock Memorial Scholarship
In 2022, I lay alone in the NYU Langone ER vomiting green for the twentieth time that night thinking, “Well, this isn’t what mom meant when she said ‘take care of yourself at camp!’” Without any glucose for almost two days I knew I was at risk for diabetic ketoacidosis. But after three hospital visits, countless barf bags, and one ketone blood test, there was still no clear answer to my condition or what treatment I needed. As a diabetic, sometimes the real challenges aren't all the shots, the nights of insomnia, even the highs and lows. Rather, the real struggle is fighting for yourself. Being a diabetic since I was three, I've met school nurses with chronic underestimation, teachers and coaches being overwhelmingly protective, and even medical professionals who try to help, but make decisions based on textbook generalizations rather than personal needs. That night I swallowed my fear of standing up to authority, leveled my head, and with the most serious tone a 14-year-old could make demanded anti-nausea medicine or else “I will go into ketoacidosis.” An hour later I was happily sitting with two units of insulin in my blood and a p.b.j sandwich in my hands. From then on, I decided self-advocacy would always come first; it was that or another trip to the ER. Luckily, I had learned how from the very best. Advocacy in the disabled world has shaped my perspective since I was born. When I was old enough to buckle my own seatbelt I pumped gas into my dad’s van, tip-toed with stretched fingers. For as long as I can remember I’ve been my dad’s travel buddy, watching him advocate for his quadriplegia. His outspoken courage in the face of obstacles has taught me that any challenge can be surpassed with enough effort. It’s meant spending days finding accessible routes overseas, moving furniture when hotels aren’t accessible, and unapologetically asking for help. As I’ve grown, his advocacy has become my second nature: walking ahead to check for stairs, opening doors, picking up pencils and paperclips. Oftentimes, advocating for others means showing care through those little things. For Robyn, a friend whose parents divorced during high school, it meant hugging tighter for a few extra seconds. For Moxie, who was undergoing his transition, it meant correcting my parents’ use of pronouns, even and especially when he wasn’t there. For Onyx and Ginger, the two senior cats at Cat Depot, it meant painting them portraits for adoption incentives. Advocacy asks for unapologetic fierceness and kindness, whether for yourself or others. In the future I hope to continue advocating for others by studying the intersection of design and accommodative engineering. I aspire to design worlds like the Guggenheim and its spiraling ramps: art that is not only beautiful and accessible, but art that is beautiful because it is accessible. I imagine floral tactile paths that bloom through bustling concrete. I imagine chic wallets with clips instead of pockets, so it doesn’t take a pair of hands to pay for your own food. I imagine briefcase ramps so wheelchair users can roll through even Rome’s ancient sites. I believe that by advocating for a world more accessible for all, we can make it more beautiful too.
Gabriel Martin Memorial Annual Scholarship
My dad and I run on stickers and Tervis Tumblers. As a child, drawing my own blood was intimidating. While I braved it out every time, I began to dread the grey lancing device, always foreshadowing shocking pain. But when I was 9 years old, at a diabetic convention, I was gifted a new monitoring device: rainbow, covered in sparkles that came with a pack of decorative stickers. Drawing blood still hurt, but the approachable design made it easier for elementary school Hana. The Tervis Tumblers on my kitchen counter look like ancient artifacts—yellowed and foggy from wear, but my family can’t get rid of them. Not only because we’d hate to see the “#1 Dad” and puppy decals go, but also because they’re the only mugs that work for my dad. Your average ceramic or glass? Too clumsy, too fragile, and any hot drink burns his paralyzed hands. But the lightweight, grippy Tumblers are perfect for my Dad to enjoy his morning coffee. As I’ve developed hopes to design professionally in the future, my family’s accommodations have become crucial to my understanding of “good” and accessible design. Aesthetics and accessibility are often viewed as two polar ends of a spectrum, where prioritizing one necessarily means sacrificing the other. However, I’ve come to realize that both function and form are at the heart of accessibility. Our aesthetic choices inherently involve usability. A government website cluttered with jargon, low contrast text, and endless drop down menus doesn’t just look uninviting—it actively shuts families out of key benefits they might need. In hospitals and transit spaces, signage that relies on small fonts and visual clutter can render navigation impossible for first time visitors, non-native speakers, or people who easily experience cognitive overload. For individuals who depend on accommodations to live life with dignity, such differences in usability are critical. Through the Brown RISD Dual Degree program, I hope to create accommodative and aesthetic designs that carry forward what I’ve learned from my family. At Brown, I’ll gain the language to critique the systems burdening disabled communities through PHP 2710 and HISP 2520T, which I can apply to the context of Industrial Design in RISD’s ID 20ST-06. I can take what I learn about Digital Design in SCULP 2141-01 and apply it directly into prototypes at the Brown Design Workshop. The simultaneous enrollment between Brown and RISD would mirror my optimal learning style: creating art from what I learn. A positive feedback loop between learning, design, prototyping, workshopping, then back to learning. In turn, I’d hope to contribute to the progress that Brown and RISD have made, making an accessible space for everyone. When my parents visited me during my time in Summer@Brown, we were generally able to find ramps for my dad to get around (and of course, we visited RISD too). But with the additional help of the Brown Accessibility Map, navigating the dauntingly steep College Hill became much easier than expected. I hope to innovate technology furthering this inclusivity: audio GPS for navigating campus as a blind first-time visitor or remote key door entry for students and admin with disabilities. If good design is measured by who it includes, then a sticker-covered lancet and a foggy Tervis Tumbler have taught me exactly how to contribute.
Skin Grip Diabetes Scholarship
Winner
Hana Mullen Student Profile | Bold.org