In middle school, I spent hours sketching whatever cartoon characters came to mind. I would pull out 25 markers, finding the perfect shade of lemon yellow to finish filling in Princess Peach's hair. Although my adolescent sketches didn’t involve much thought or care, they sparked my passion for art. At first, I was very opposed to using watercolors. Their free flow and fuzzy lines made me look at watercolor as unpredictable and lacking in dexterity. I was used to making precise lines and shapes with rigidly defined edges from my fine-lined markers. Watercolor was a complete juxtaposition to my art-making process. It wasn't until my freshman year of high school that I truly started to embrace all of watercolor's "drawbacks." My teacher gave me an assignment to use watercolor to describe an inner layer within us. I felt a wave of dread wash over me as it meant I would have to depart from my norm; I didn't like change. I was strict and comfortable in my routine. As my brush shakingly hit the paper, I made a dot, but my dot didn't stay in its shape. It evolved, and after an hour, all of my precise lines and shapes expanded into light, fuzzy patches. However, as I stared at it, my head wasn't full of disappointment but excitement. It wasn't what I expected, but slowly the fuzzy, unpredictable colors blended into a vibrant portrait of me. As my watercolor skills blossomed, I learned new techniques and began to incorporate other media. My use of watercolor taught me much more than color theory or value; it taught me to embrace life's unpredictability. Ever since that assignment, watercolor has become an essential outlet of expression. It lets me convey my emotions in a visual format. In my latest watercolor piece, I use the medium to express the dichotomy between myself at home and myself at work. My afternoon consists of two activities: work and work. No matter how fast I complete projects, I will never escape the ever-encompassing flow of responsibilities. A portion of me lies on the left in my uniform, and as time passes, reflected in the change of clothes, she doesn't go to bed but instead shifts to the other side. Tomorrow she will complete the same routine. It's run, rinse, and repeat! As a growing artist, I take advantage of every opportunity that comes to me. I plan to study fine arts at the Rhode Island School of Design. I am excited to learn new techniques, skills, and trades, working with larger interconnected pieces. RISD will expand my artistic horizons by enabling me to explore new and unexplored facets of life. I aim to create art that elicits a response, challenging myself to rethink and reflect.

When I was a child, I lived in a bubble. I knew my situation wasn't ideal, but I never truly realized its extent until I got to high school. In contrast to my former school, my high school was funded and well-managed; most of the kids attending were from affluent families with parents who were CEOs, lawyers, and business owners. For the first time, I wasn’t the norm. In elementary school, I didn't have access to education like most kids did; our needs were often left unaddressed, our potential stunted, and slowly, our learning progression flatlined. There were a lot of times as a kid when my mom struggled to provide for me and my sibling; some nights, we'd go hungry. In middle school, going to sleep reminded me of how little I had. No bed, just the hard cushion of the couch pressing against my back, accompanied by my restless sleep. However, even though I've struggled so much throughout my childhood, it has motivated me to be where I am today. I started out feeling hopeless, but as I've grown, I realized that these setbacks made me much more than underprivileged. They have made me innovative, resourceful, and, most of all, me. I may not have the building blocks that others have and may have started behind, but I've built my way up to places I thought were impossible. I've finally learned to embrace my upbringing; it's the foundation that pushes me forward. This is why my mixed-media artwork 'Acclimating' holds such profound meaning for me. It stands as a testament to the transformative power of art, an homage to the experiences, memories, and people that have shaped me into who I am today. In order to make this artwork, I began by sitting down on the hard, hot pavement and staring directly into the sun's center, capturing the different stages of adjustments until I could look at it without closing my eyes. They watered, burned, and hurt; however, this method allowed me to capture my honest and candid facial expressions as my eyes continued to burn, simulating the raw, painful, and uncomfortable experiences I went through to develop into the person I am today. I then collected photos from my childhood up until just a month ago, collaging them and digitally rendering an American flag on top to represent how I have adjusted to change and have navigated life through my identity. I employed a continuous red thread and stationary pins to display how my selected family photos lead back to one subject. Me. My upbringing has given me a level of maturity that someone who hasn't been through my life may not have. I understand the context of certain things because I've been through it myself. This understanding, gained from my experiences, has enlightened my perspective and made me who I am today. Overall, my challenging upbringing has painted the canvas of my life because no matter how much I fall, I always get back up, and I will always get back up because I need to be there for my mom, family, and others. Acclimating is a timeline of my personal growth, and I want it to inspire viewers to look back on their past and see how much they have grown.

"Pop-pop" My shoulders as my arms swing up and down to finish filling in my Starmist Blue oval.   "shh-shh-shh" My brush as I lay on ultramarine triangles.   "Is that Bluey!?"  A little girl excitedly shouts from the hallways.  From the stalls of the school restroom, I replied with an elated "Yes!". Over the summer, I took a short but fulfilling trip to Windy Hill Elementary School; while there, I painted the bathrooms with characters from the kids' favorite show, Bluey.    When I arrived at the school, I noticed it was similar to where I grew up. The walls were familiar pale mustard, tiles fractured beneath my feet, and there was a lack of adequate air conditioning, all the exact characteristics of my underfunded elementary school. I remember being in their position when I would look at the broken tiles, frustrated at the world, mad that I wasn't blessed with a stable home life. My elementary school reminded me of my poverty, sometimes dampening a sorrowful day.   As I painted, more kids from the summer camp screeched in joy, "Look! It's Bingo!" and "I love Bluey!" It was clear to me that art on the walls was a rare experience for the kids. Although subtle, the joy students get from seeing their favorite character regularly can positively impact their school's environment. While drawing out characters from silly cartoon shows, I learned how even the little things count to positively impact lives.   My summer camp experience taught me the value of simple volunteering measures. Since then, I've begun to carry this attitude with me.  Becoming the Director of Black Arts, Visual allowed me to give my time to helping other minority students in similar situations like me grow as an artist. Since then, I've expanded the club beyond our annual gallery and increased our membership by 53%. Black Arts has developed into much more than a school club. It is now an organization dedicated to providing underrepresented students a safe space through art and is on the steps to becoming a program across High schools in Duval. So that minority students like me are provided with the same opportunities to pursue careers in the arts as other students.    Black Arts has provided a platform for artistic expression and fostered a sense of community and inclusivity, significantly impacting the local arts scene. It was through Black Arts that I began reflecting on my own life. My art is deeply shaped by my background. In my artistic process, I started by exploring something I was experiencing.Then, I mock up the subtle aspects I will use to convey the central ideal through different mediums, techniques, and tonal choices. For instance, acrylic paint allows me to create vibrant and fluid hues that evoke emotion, which I use to create luminosity in moments of realization. I also experiment with unconventional materials in my art-making process; a standard instrument used in my artwork is a self-imposed red thread that is an analogy for causing one’s suffering. This red thread has followed me not only in my portfolio but also in my life. My artwork is a means to explore and deconstruct my sentience.  Guiding other Black students to find their voices has, in turn, allowed me to raise my voice, too. The confidence that my peers gain from the programs I lead pushes me forward and reinforces my commitment to using the arts as a tool for social change.

When I was a child, I lived in a bubble. I knew my situation wasn't ideal, but I never truly realized its extent until I got to high school. In contrast to my former school, my high school was funded and well-managed; most of the kids attending were from affluent families with parents who were CEOs, lawyers, and business owners. For the first time, I wasn’t the norm. In elementary school, I didn't have access to education like most kids did; our needs were often left unaddressed, our potential stunted, and slowly, our learning progression flatlined. There were a lot of times as a kid when my mom struggled to provide for me and my sibling; some nights, we'd go hungry. In middle school, going to sleep reminded me of how little I had. No bed, just the hard cushion of the couch pressing against my back, accompanied by my restless sleep.  However, even though I've struggled so much throughout my childhood, it has motivated me to be where I am today. I started out feeling hopeless, but as I've grown, I realized that these setbacks made me much more than underprivileged. They have made me innovative, resourceful, and, most of all, me. I may not have the building blocks that others have and may have started behind, but I've built my way up to places I thought were impossible. I've finally learned to embrace my upbringing; it's the foundation that pushes me forward. This is why my mixed media artwork 'Acclimating' holds such profound meaning for me. It stands as a testament to the transformative power of art, an homage to the experiences, memories, and people that have shaped me into who I am today. In order to make this artwork, I began by sitting down on the hard, hot pavement and staring directly into the sun's center, capturing the different stages of adjustments until I could look at it without closing my eyes. They watered, burned, and hurt; however, this method allowed me to capture my honest and candid facial expressions as my eyes continued to burn, simulating the raw, painful, and uncomfortable experiences I went through to develop into the person I am today. I then collected photos from my childhood up until just a month ago, collaging them and digitally rendering an American flag on top to represent how I have adjusted to change and have navigated life through my identity. I employed a continuous red thread and stationary pins to display how my selected family photos lead back to one subject. Me. My upbringing has given me a level of maturity that someone who hasn't been through my life may not have. I understand the context of certain things because I've been through it myself. This understanding, gained from my experiences, has enlightened my perspective and made me who I am today. Overall, my challenging upbringing has painted the canvas of my life because no matter how much I fall, I always get back up, and I will always get back up because I need to be there for my mom, family, and others. Acclimating is a timeline of my personal growth, and I want it to inspire viewers to look back on their past and see how much they have grown.