I really started losing myself in art when I was in 3rd grade. I would stay in my room a lot and I began to draw and paint constantly. Art became a way that I could express myself. I could lose myself in trying to get just the right symmetry in a face or spend days trying to make a set of eyes convey emotion. I would draw and erase a hand over and over until the fingers looked just right. During a time when I had some family problems the only thing I felt in control of in my world was my art. My dinosaurs roaring, my unicorns and fairies flying around and anything I could imagine could come to life on paper. I dreamt up my creatures and creations in the sanctuary of my room. They hung crookedly on my walls with tape and watched the life of an unsure girl play out. The characters I dreamt up became my confidants and witnessed all the highs and lows of my adolescents from the walls of my room. My world started to shift when I started getting recognized in my family and school for my ability to draw. It was amazing to me that something that I enjoyed doing could get me attention in a positive way. I wasn't just "the sad girl" or the "quiet girl" anymore, I was the girl that was good at art. Being good at art an "artist" gave me a sense of purpose. I felt important for the first time in a way. Having the outlet of art in my life allowed me to express my pain and hurt in a healthy way, though I did not realize that was what I was doing at the time. Now I feel grateful for the ability to express through art all the things I could never find the words to say adequately. I want to be able to help other kids find sanctuary in art. I want the timid kid in the back of class to feel pride in his ability to create something on paper or canvas that makes other people feel something when they look at it. I hope to continue sharing my stories and helping others share theirs through art. I want to spend the next several years in school learning all I can about all forms of art so that I am equipped to reach all future artist. Thank you for your consideration.

I really started losing myself in art when I was in 3rd grade. I would stay in my room a lot and I began to draw and paint constantly. Art became a way that I could express myself. I could lose myself in trying to get just the right symmetry in a face or spend days trying to make a set of eyes convey emotion. I would draw and erase a hand over and over until the fingers looked just right. During a time when I had some family problems the only thing I felt in control of in my world was my art. My dinosaurs roaring, my unicorns and fairies flying around and anything I could imagine could come to life on paper. I dreamt up my creatures and creations in the sanctuary of my room. They hung crookedly on my walls with tape and watched the life of an unsure girl play out. I started getting recognized in my family and school for my ability to draw. It was amazing to me that something that I enjoyed doing could get me attention in a positive way. I wasn't just "the sad girl" or the "quiet girl" anymore, I was the girl that was good at art. Being good at art an "artist" gave me a sense of purpose. I felt important for the first time in a way. Having the outlet of art in my life allowed me to express my pain and hurt in a healthy way, though I did not realize that was what I was doing at the time. Now I feel grateful for the ability to express through art all the things I could never find the words to say adequately. I want to be able to help other kids find sanctuary in art. I want the timid kid in the back of class to feel pride in his ability to create something on paper or canvas that makes other people feel something when they look at it. I hope to continue sharing my stories and helping others share theirs through art. I want to spend the next several years in school learning all I can about all forms of art so that I am equipped to reach all future artist. Thank you for your consideration.

I really started losing myself in art when I was in 3rd grade. My parents went through a messy divorce, and I became overwhelmed with sadness. I felt lonely and misunderstood. I would stay in my room a lot and I began to draw and paint constantly. Art became a way that I could express myself. I could lose myself in trying to get just the right symmetry in a face or spend days trying to make a set of eyes convey emotion. I would draw and erase a hand over and over until the fingers looked just right. The only thing I felt in control of in my world was my art. My dinosaurs roaring, my unicorns and fairies flying around and anything I could imagine could come to life on paper. I felt a kinship to the girl with a lopsided smile that I had worked meticulously on getting just the right number of freckles dusted across her nose. I spoke to my drawn creatures and creations in the sanctuary of my room. They were my friends and my confidants. They hung crookedly on my walls with tape and watched the life of an unsure girl play out. I started getting recognized in my family and school for my ability to draw. My confidence began to grow. It was amazing to me that something that I enjoyed doing could get me attention in a positive way. I wasn't the sad girl or the quiet girl anymore. I would pretend not to hear when teachers would brag to other teachers about my drawings but on the inside, I beamed with pride. Being good at art an "artist" gave me a sense of purpose. I felt important for the first time in a way. I had felt out of place for a majority of my life and somewhere along the way I began to feel settled in my skin. Having the outlet of art in my life allowed me to express my pain and hurt in a healthy way, though I did not realize that was what I was doing at the time. When I felt anxious and didn't know what to do with my hands, I would find myself picking up a pencil and letting all the dark thoughts wound up in my mind flow out on to the paper. Sometimes it would look dark like a woman broken and in tears with charcoal smeared mascara running down her cheek and sometimes it would look like the light I wanted to feel in a cloudy sky with beams of sun poking through. Now I feel grateful for the ability to express through art all the things I could never find the words to say adequately. I hope to continue sharing my stories and helping others share theirs through art. My first drawing submitted shows the emotions of feeling pressured to grow up to fast. The next is a drawing I did of my mom feeling sad and overwhelmed by life and my little fingers can be seen trying to lift up to the table. The rest are examples of some of my other art. Thank you for your consideration.