As a freshman, my favorite part of sports was the performance, since that was my main drive for validation. Being a naturally talented athlete who wanted to play in college, it was easy for me to find success in my sports performances. I joined cross country my sophomore year of high school with small expectations, for I had never run more than a mile consecutively. However, I quickly became a top ten-ranked runner in my state and had the goal of running while pursuing college. Consequently, though, shortly after cross country season, I developed a condition called Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome. Not only did this disability completely take away my ability to run for more than five minutes, but it also affected my everyday life. It was not only physically painful but mentally. I scheduled surgery rather quickly, but unfortunately, I had an unsuccessful attempt at fixing the issue, leaving me to live with my disability. Therefore, I had to quit my most successful sport of cross country and am unable be able to perform at a very high level in basketball and track. I went from playing full games of basketball to not even being able to play a full quarter. I was devastated and confused why I fell into such a small percentage of failure. It didn't make sense to me that everything could be taken away so quickly, especially with no warning at all. While a majority of my ability to perform physical activity was stripped from me, my leadership was not. Although I can’t run cross country anymore, that doesn’t mean I can’t show up to support my teammates. Although I can’t play a whole quarter of basketball, that doesn’t mean I can’t help lead my teammates at practice and on the bench. And although the longest distance I can run is an 800, that doesn’t mean I won’t be there to carry my friend after her 3200. Now, sports, to me, isn’t about a record-breaking night, but instead about how you treat your teammates and how your character is viewed. While I’m in high school, I don’t want to be known as the sports state qualifier or the girl who had a perfect GPA. I want to be remembered as the girl who was there for her teammates. Developing this mindset and going through the situation I’ve had has helped shape me for the future. I’ve learned to be appreciative of the things I have since I’ve had a big part of my life taken away from me. While I lead in the future, my mind won’t just be focused on my successes but rather on the success of everyone around me. I’ve learned that my disability doesn’t disable my outlook on life. My physical pain doesn’t have to fill my mind with pessimism. While I do still grieve the life I wish I could have had without my chronic syndrome, I'm extremely grateful to finally see the things in my life that have been living in the shadows. I’ve created lasting memories and friendships from joining activities that I wouldn’t have joined with fully functioning legs, and I’ll forever be grateful for that. While I lead in the future and continue to try and stay active, I have to be reminded to give myself grace. Therefore, my mind won’t just be focused on my successes but rather on the success of everyone around me.

Growing up, all of my friends wanted to become doctors. Naturally, being a high-achieving student, I thought becoming a doctor was what all “smart” students were supposed to do. I spent the majority of my high school years believing I was going to become an ophthalmologist. It surely made sense because I grew up with an eye disease and had large academic success, right? While I thought I had it all figured out, my true passion had always been found in art. Although it was my favorite activity to partake in, it still felt shadowed compared to my success in sports and academics. Athletics and academics were highly praised in my small town, so why would my art ever give me a sense of validation? Because of this, I kept my creative endeavors hidden away in my back pocket and labeled them simply as a hobby. However, as I moved into my senior year of high school, I knew that becoming a doctor was never going to fulfill my dreams. Art can be a career, and I don’t need to live my life pretending that it can’t be. For the first semester of my senior year, I believed I was going to be an animation major. It’s always been a dream of mine to create movies, and it felt like a creative outlet that I would genuinely enjoy. However, artificial intelligence and a lack of funding have created a shaky industry that is slowly killing animation as a medium. After learning this, I quickly pivoted and researched other art careers, landing on pursuing a Bachelor of Fine Arts. As I'm pursuing art, I know that my ability to overcome hardships has prepared me. Developing my disability (Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome) is one of the hardest things I’ve been through, yet I wouldn’t trade how it’s shaped me. Living with my chronic injury has pushed me to grow in ways I never expected. It has challenged me physically and mentally, forcing me to adapt, stay disciplined, and find new ways to persevere when things become difficult. Instead of letting it hold me back, I’ve learned how to listen to my body, manage setbacks, and stay focused on my goals even when progress feels slow. These experiences have strengthened my resilience and determination, qualities that will continue to shape who I am as I move forward. As I look toward my future, I know the lessons I’ve learned through this condition will prepare me to face obstacles with confidence and keep pushing toward success no matter what challenges arise. Even with all the right tools and traits, freelance art is still a career that'll require patience and hard work. To be successful in freelance art, I will need to combine creativity with discipline and strategy. First, I’ll continue developing my skills and refining my unique style, so my work stands out. I’ll build a strong portfolio that showcases my best pieces and demonstrates versatility, while also creating an online presence to share my work and reach a wider audience. Learning how to market myself—through social media, networking, and connecting with potential clients—will be essential. I’ll also need to understand the business side of freelancing, such as pricing my work fairly, communicating professionally, and managing deadlines. Staying consistent, open to feedback, and willing to adapt will help me grow over time. By balancing artistic passion with strong work habits and business awareness, I can build a sustainable and successful career in freelance art.

Growing up, all of my friends wanted to become doctors. Naturally, being a high-achieving student, I thought becoming a doctor was what all “smart” students were supposed to do. I spent the majority of my high school years believing I was going to become an ophthalmologist. It surely made sense because I grew up with an eye disease and had large academic success, right? While I thought I had it all figured out, my true passion had always been found in art. Although it was my favorite activity to partake in, it still felt shadowed compared to my success in sports and academics. Athletics and academics were highly praised in my small town, so why would my art ever give me a sense of validation? Because of this, I kept my creative endeavors hidden away in my back pocket and labeled them simply as a hobby. However, as I moved into my senior year of high school, I knew that becoming a doctor was never going to fulfill my dreams. Art can be a career, and I don’t need to live my life pretending that it can’t be. Throughout the past year, I’ve learned to take art out of my back pocket and to put it in the forefront of my life and career. That's where I discovered my art medium: oil painting. Oil painting has become one of the most meaningful and defining parts of my life, not just as a hobby, but as a form of expression and identity. What draws me to oil paint more than any other medium is its versatility. With oil paint, I’m not confined. I can experiment, make mistakes, and transform them into something intentional. That freedom has given me a powerful outlet to express thoughts and feelings that I can’t always put into words. What makes oil painting even more important to me is the way I came to learn it. Although I have taken art classes in school, my experience with oil paint has largely been self-taught. My school doesn’t offer a highly advanced art curriculum, so I had to take initiative and learn on my own through trial and error, research, and persistence. That process taught me more than just technique; it taught me discipline, independence, and how to trust my creative instincts. Every painting I complete feels like a personal accomplishment because I know how much effort and self-direction went into it. Oil painting has also enhanced my life by giving me a clear sense of passion and direction. Through this medium, I’ve discovered that art is not just something I enjoy, but it’s something I want to pursue in college and beyond. It has given me a purpose and a vision for my future, motivating me to continue growing and improving as an artist. Additionally, my passion for oil painting has inspired me to think about the future in a new way. I want to teach and share what I’ve learned so that I can pass down my love for creativity to others. I know firsthand how powerful it can be to discover art, even without extensive resources, and I hope to be someone who encourages others to explore that same path. Ultimately, oil painting is more than just a medium to me. It is a form of self-expression. No matter where I end up after high school, I know that somehow, and in some way, I can help impact a young artist to take art out of their back pocket, too!

In general, as I create my artwork, one of my biggest intentions behind it is to make people pause and view my piece with a sense of curiosity. Rather than offering an immediate sense of clarity or beauty, I want the viewer’s first reaction to be uncertainty, as if something disrupts their expectations and draws them in. Through my use of theme, I aim to create a moment where the viewer feels compelled to look longer and think deeper. That initial discomfort is important to me because it opens the door to reflection. It challenges people to move beyond surface-level observation and search for meaning within the piece and within themselves. As they sit with that tension, I hope they begin to uncover the underlying message, realizing that the unease they felt was intentional—a way to spark awareness, emotion, and a more personal connection to the artwork. When looking at my pieces specifically, I featured three artworks that deal with topics that are very important to me. My first piece, "Artificial Ineffability," challenges the idea of how Artificial Intelligence will affect the creative industry. As an artist who originally was going to major in animation, I've been nervous about how different the industry will look in 5 to 10 years. There is no better word for me to describe it other than "sick." With that in mind, I aimed to make a viewer feel a sense of disgust, so that they can then battle with the dangers of AI. My second piece, "Dad, what's a jellyfish?" is inspired by plastic pollution in the ocean. Growing up, my friends and I would save our plastic straws with the hope that we could make a difference in saving sea creatures. As I've grown older, I've realized how my contribution looks microscopic compared to how grand the issue of plastic pollution is. With this piece, I hope viewers confuse my plastic jellyfish with a normal jellyfish, until they take a step closer and view the close details. In that moment of realization, I want a viewer to have a moment of true reflection. My last piece, "good luck with everything," is my first self-portrait. This piece is extremely special to me. Inspired by nostalgia, it features the harsh leap from childhood to adulthood. Although a string of morals and beliefs ties me together, that string is now hanging with the possibility of going in so many different directions. I'm looking back on my past, mixed with emotions of gratitude, longing, and fear. Even if I don't feel prepared, the future is still waiting for me. A small text is featured in the corner, reading "good luck with everything." That text, written from younger me to older me, represents stepping into a new chapter even when feeling unprepared. Overall, I want to achieve the feelings of wonder and feeling slightly unsettled. That moment of unease is meant to draw viewers in, urging them to look beyond the surface. As they take time to reflect, I hope the deeper meaning of my artwork emerges, leaving a stronger and more personal impression.