Arts education has been the backbone and fuel of my education my entire life. My parents met in art school and instilled it in my siblings and I’s childhoods thoroughly. I was driven to do better by my older sister. Being four years older than me, her skills developed faster and I grew hungrier to show her I could be just as good. I was a quiet child in school and swimming in the shadows my sister left in her wake, every teacher expecting me to be just as smart as her. Arts classes were the only curriculum where I felt I could thrive as my own creator, not a successor. It was in my fifth grade when our school district had added a new building and for the first time I had teachers my sister had not had before. In the sixth grade, I got to have Mr. Jones, a brand new art teacher. I did not realize at that age how intertwined I had made my artistic identity live within my sister but when it was being seen by Mr. Jones, something was freed within me and my work. He pushed me to try new things not because my sister could do it but because he saw my potential to dedicate myself to it. I stayed after school one day to work on my project, cutting little circles out of matboard to make a butterfly embosser, and I told him I wanted to be an art teacher one day. “That would be the perfect career for you.” He said. While I did not make the conscious decision to pursue that career in the sixth grade, his unbiased belief that I could do it has been something that has always simmered in my head. That year at the district art show, I stood in front of my work on the wall with my father, his arms crossed as he studied the colored pencil graffiti art, magazine collage, and the butterfly embossment. He says it was the first time he had seen a voice in my artwork and I agree. My freshman year, the district moved around some of the art department and Mr. Jones was moved to the high school. Over four years, I had the honor of building my work, my craft, my identity, and my voice with him as a mentor. His notes and critiques gave me the utensils to better myself as an artist and the vocabulary to collaborate with others in the classroom. In my senior year, I built a body of work that was the foundation for who I am as an artist today. Though my senior year was cut short from the 2020 shutdown, at the virtual graduation, Mr. Jones presented me with the Dyer Art Award for being “the student who best supports and spreads art within their community.” I would not have been able to do such a thing without him amplifying me over the years and assuring me that I am more than the shadow of my sister but rather an artist with my own dream. I saw him years later at a local art show and told him I was going to college for art, art history, and museum studies to one day be a fine arts professor. “That’s perfect for you.” He said.

I am inspired by people. The people I see deliberate between flavors in the grocery store, the family that laughs loudly in the restaurant, the old woman who grumbles at the birds and the little girl who feeds them. I am inspired by humanity. The small acts like two street vendors swapping goods, the person with a full cart letting the person with a basket go in front of them at checkout, the takeout regular holding up the line to ask if the owner’s wife is feeling any better. I am inspired by the loud artists. The ones that play on the street, the ones that tag bright colors on cement, the kids that dance on the sidewalk. I am inspired by the quiet artists. The photographers that kneel in front of a flower with a butterfly on it, the knitter that sits in the park, the painter that recreates the horizon and lets me sit quietly with them. I watched a man in New York, on a tree-lined shaded street I used as I cut through, paint the builds far away. He was quiet and so was I. So were the trees, the bricks, the shop bell down the street, the rustle of critters, and the bustle of life all around our street. I am inspired by the way the world breathes together. No matter how each breath is directed, we breathe life and each other. The way people, nature, schedules, emotions, traditions, and lives intertwine. That is what inspires me.

As a kid, when it came to career searching mantras, the one my parents taught me was to “find something you are passionate about and stick to it”. As the son of two parents who met in art school, it always felt like the natural path and I have followed it every step of the way. I was always creating and eager to learn; starting a creative writing club in school and winning the Dyer Art Award at graduation, an award given for spreading art within my community. The summer after my first year of undergrad, I interned with the Demuth Museum. I shadowed the Museum Education and Outreach Coordinator, helping with tabling event community crafts, teaching the summer camps, and helping the intergenerational workshops. It was a beautifully enriching summer that reassured any doubts I could have had about my field and my passion. My way of giving back to the youth in under-resourced communities through visual arts begins with accessibility, education, and community connection. One of the ways I plan to contribute is through my future work as a museum education and outreach coordinator. By developing inclusive initiatives within museum spaces, I aim to create learning opportunities that are accessible for all generations and backgrounds to engage with the arts in a constructive, meaningful way. These programs will be tailored to highlight and teach diverse artistic voices and skill sets, encouraging multigenerational learning and fostering environments where young people see their identities and stories reflected in the art around them. The museum based outreach will go beyond simply visiting exhibitions; it will be about building bridges between institutions and communities with workshops, artist talks, interactive demonstrations, and hands-on studio sessions that can travel outside museum walls and into schools, community centers, and neighborhood hubs. These programs will prioritize youth in under-resourced areas, ensuring they not only have exposure to the arts but also pathways to creative careers. The goal is to empower young people through skill development, mentorship, and access to networks that they might not otherwise have. In addition to educational programming, I believe that access to materials is critical which is why my dream is to establish art supply stations as a consistent and community-powered initiative. These drives will operate like Little Free Libraries as open, accessible locations where individuals can donate new or gently used art supplies, and where artists in need can freely pick up what they require. I will take up the work of originally stocking and encouraging those from the donor side of the museum world to keep the stations in operation and in stock. I would love to drive around restocking the locations with supply donations with anything from sketchbooks and paint to brushes and textiles. These stations will help eliminate the cost barrier of art for aspiring creatives in low-income areas. This dual approach of education through museum outreach and access through community-based art supply drives creates a sustainable, inclusive model for giving back. It not only offers young people the tools to express themselves but also builds a support system that validates their creativity. By merging formal education with grassroots resource-sharing, I hope to foster a culture where the visual arts are not a privilege for a few, but a right and opportunity for all. I am so fortunate to have found my passion at such a young age and now, I will share it with the world.