My work, which consists of illustration and animation, has explored how queer history, culture, and representation impacts me and my community. I depict historical figures through mixed-media portraiture using unconventional mediums and materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of the lives of queer icons, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggle with poverty, deeply inform my artistic practice as I connect the process of each piece to the subject that it refers to. My mixed-media pieces begin with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work created by the subject are the driving forces of my work. I recently completed an artist residency with the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University.Through this work I refined my capability to transform research into compelling visual design, and I took the initiative to explore unfamiliar mediums. During this residency I synthesized complicated research about HIV/AIDS, STI’s, mental health, and the quality of life of queer people into digestible artworks on display at the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing Offices in downtown Chicago. The program aims to better communicate their research with everyday people and help queer people see their issues being represented. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race and beyond. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. These stories have provided me with great reassurance and a sense of community, which I share through my art in order to provide the same sense of connection to other queer individuals. My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation for queer lost souls of the world. To connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood. It is incredibly important to see the limitless boundaries of art and animation. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my queer approach with mixed media. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens a work by making a direct, definitive voice. Being able to see where a project can benefit by exploring it from a different angle rather than struggling through opens up new possibilities for art direction. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work

On our cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She would not explain why it was important to her, but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s disease diagnosis a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment, that this story was changing the trajectory of our lives. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Seeing my mom struggle to grapple with her own ailment, let alone try to explain it to her children, made me into the responsible and resolute person I am today. Seeing my mom limp around the house, her hands cramping and flailing as she attempted tasks she will never complete, pushed me to take over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family at a very young age. Being the only one in my house physically capable and willing to do tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning, I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. Becoming the sole bearer of this daunting task has been a tiresome burden that has taken its toll on my body and mind. Taking care of my mother for over half of my life now has taught me how to persevere and be self-reliant. Growing up I didn’t have someone else to fall back on. If I didn’t work hard to achieve the things I wanted, no one else would. Balancing difficult and demanding classes, time-consuming extracurriculars, and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. This balancing act continues to intensify as I pursue work in my field on top of my college education. Although the difficulty can be daunting at times, my determination does not waver. New opportunities and academic challenges inspire me to keep going as I not only accomplish but also exceed educational and career milestones. Attending Columbia College Chicago has provided me with a robust support system of professors, mentors, and peers who have pushed me into a new phase of my life. I no longer have to teach myself how to work within an education system designed to work against neurodivergent students with complex needs like me. With obstacles I had grown accustomed to gone, my dreams of succeeding as an artist became reality. Over the course of the past year, my work has been published in a dozen magazines and featured on the cover of two issues by FlowerMouth Press. My work has been exhibited in six gallery shows as well, including esteemed institutions such as the Koehnline Museum of Art and the Italian Cultural Institute of Chicago. These opportunities have helped me grow artistically, but also expanded my network and professional sensibilities. With the guidance of my attentive and supporting professors, I completed an artist residency with the Impact Institute of Northwestern University (formerly known as the Institute for Sexual and General Minority Health and Wellbeing.) During the six-month residency I collaborated with Dennis Li to adapt his team’s research with projects ACCELERATE, CEASE, and ACCESS into visual artworks. This process translated complex ideas about increasing equitable access to HIV care into mixed-media artworks in order to directly inform the local community about up-to-date research findings. Receiving the honor to create work that is deeply meaningful to me and impactful for the Chicago queer community has been a monumental achievement for me. I’ve been able to thrive at Columbia throughout my college career and have accomplished more than I thought I was capable of. As I am close to finishing my degree, the reality of obtaining that degree has presented an additional obstacle. I am currently growing into the next phase of my career but without the financial ability to do so. With the Champions of a New Path Award, I would be able to maintain my upward trajectory within my field. As I move forward in my senior year, I am developing a body of work to meaningfully give back and inspire those who have experienced similar mental, emotional, and familial struggles as I have. Through a long-form mixed-media comic inspired by the ostracization I faced as an autistic trans tween, I will be a beacon of hope reminding others that they are not alone. I am unwilling to give up on my education and intend to keep fighting in order to stay at Columbia. This school has helped me grow in so many ways I could not have imagined before coming here. Through Columbia’s Illustration program I have achieved professional milestones such as owning an independent business, becoming a published artist, working on short films, multiple gallery exhibitions, and completing an artist residency. As an e-board member of the Illustration Student Group, I am actively working with other students to cultivate a welcoming community and positive career-building cornerstone. This school has helped me grow and to give back by guiding fellow students in our program. Creating art and tapping into my own personal wellbeing can be challenging when financial or familial issues weigh heavily on my mind, but art ultimately succors me through this obstacle. The power of stories and the deeply personal connection developed between a creative and their audience keep me going. Experiencing the impact of stories again and again guides me to create illustrative work and animation for lost souls of the world and reminds me why I came here to Columbia - why I want to stay here.

My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation that combines unconventional mediums with digital media in order to connect with queer lost souls of the world. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings an unconventional perspective to my queer approach to visual art. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens my work by making a direct, definitive voice that sees the limitless boundaries of art and animation. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters and explores themes of ocd and not belonging. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work. Receiving this scholarship would enable me to complete my senior year of college and begin my journey as a trained professional artist. A project I am currently developing and intending to work on full time after graduation is a mixed-media graphic novel about a 12 year-old trans girl named Lexi befriending a group of outcast tweens and joining them in a blood ritual to summon a demon. Originally envisioned as a stop-motion film, the comic continues to use clay dolls and cardboard sets rather than hand-drawn panels. I combat the rise of AI and corporate disregard of artist’s work by utilizing overtly handmade, diy art direction. Seeing the wires holding together the dolls or the glued seams of the set intentionally informs viewers that a human made this image. Embracing the imperfections of a medium rather than glossing over them to compete with hollow artificiality breathes new life into my creative process. The comic explores the ostracization weirdos and freaks face as well as the desperate lengths people will go to in order to feel a part of an in-group. The main characters experience social isolation and physical violence due to their queerness, race, disability, weight, and participation in alternative subcultures. Seeking salvation from their bullies, the friends turn to an occult ritual using menstrual blood. Longing to maintain her friendship and cling to a sense of normalcy, Lexi stays in the closet in order to participate in the ritual. When things go awry, Lexi and her friends must battle demons to prove that blood is thicker than water. Though creating art and tapping into my own personal well has been an immense challenge the past year due to personal trauma, mental health struggles, and the general state of the world, art ultimately has gotten me through this rough patch in my life. The power of stories and the deeply personal connection developed between a creative and their audience kept me going, even when I knew I couldn’t. I believed one day that in Twin Peaks Laura Palmer’s sadness would end; I held that the dozens of experimental indie animators I watched on Youtube knew the pain I felt; I trusted that amidst the Victorian literature I fervently read that someone somewhere went through similar things. Experiencing the impact of stories again and again motivates me to continue creating illustrative work and animation for lost souls of the world in order to connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood.

My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation that combines unconventional mediums with digital media in order to connect with queer lost souls of the world. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings an unconventional perspective to my queer approach to visual art. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens my work by making a direct, definitive voice that sees the limitless boundaries of art and animation. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters and explores themes of ocd and not belonging. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work. My dream project, which I’m currently writing, is a mixed-media graphic novel about a 12 year-old trans girl named Lexi befriending a group of outcast tweens and joining them in a blood ritual to summon a demon. Originally envisioned as a stop-motion film, the comic continues to use clay dolls and cardboard sets rather than hand-drawn panels. I combat the rise of AI and corporate disregard of artist’s work by utilizing overtly handmade, diy art direction. Seeing the wires holding together the dolls or the glued seams of the set intentionally informs viewers that a human made this image. Embracing the imperfections of a medium rather than glossing over them to compete with hollow artificiality breathes new life into my creative process. The comic explores the ostracization weirdos and freaks face as well as the desperate lengths people will go to in order to feel a part of an in-group. The main characters experience social isolation and physical violence due to their queerness, race, disability, weight, and participation in alternative subcultures. Seeking salvation from their bullies, the friends turn to an occult ritual using menstrual blood. Longing to maintain her friendship and cling to a sense of normalcy, Lexi stays in the closet in order to participate in the ritual. When things go awry, Lexi and her friends must battle demons to prove that blood is thicker than water. Though creating art and tapping into my own personal well has been an immense challenge the past year due to personal trauma, mental health struggles, and the general state of the world, art ultimately has gotten me through this rough patch in my life. The power of stories and the deeply personal connection developed between a creative and their audience kept me going, even when I knew I couldn’t. I believed one day that in Twin Peaks Laura Palmer’s sadness would end; I held that the dozens of experimental indie animators I watched on Youtube knew the pain I felt; I trusted that amidst the Victorian literature I fervently read that someone somewhere went through similar things. Experiencing the impact of stories again and again motivates me to continue creating illustrative work and animation for lost souls of the world in order to connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood.

My work, which consists of illustration and animation, has explored how queer history, culture, and representation impacts me and my community. I depict historical figures through mixed-media portraiture using unconventional mediums and materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of the lives of queer icons, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggle with poverty, deeply inform my artistic practice as I connect the process of each piece to the subject that it refers to. My mixed-media pieces begin with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work created by the subject are the driving forces of my work. I recently completed an artist residency with the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University.Through this work I refined my capability to transform research into compelling visual design, and I took the initiative to explore unfamiliar mediums. During this residency I synthesized complicated research about HIV/AIDS, STI’s, mental health, and the quality of life of queer people into digestible artworks on display at the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing Offices in downtown Chicago. The program aims to better communicate their research with everyday people and help queer people see their issues being represented. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race and beyond. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. These stories have provided me with great reassurance and a sense of community, which I share through my art in order to provide the same sense of connection to other queer individuals. My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation for queer lost souls of the world. To connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood. It is incredibly important to see the limitless boundaries of art and animation. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my queer approach with mixed media. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens a work by making a direct, definitive voice. Being able to see where a project can benefit by exploring it from a different angle rather than struggling through opens up new possibilities for art direction. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work

My work, which consists of illustration and animation, has explored how queer history, culture, and representation impacts me and my community. I depict historical figures through mixed-media portraiture using unconventional mediums and materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of the lives of queer icons, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggle with poverty, deeply inform my artistic practice as I connect the process of each piece to the subject that it refers to. My mixed-media pieces begin with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work created by the subject are the driving forces of my work. I recently completed an artist residency with the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University.Through this work I refined my capability to transform research into compelling visual design, and I took the initiative to explore unfamiliar mediums. During this residency I synthesized complicated research about HIV/AIDS, STI’s, mental health, and the quality of life of queer people into digestible artworks on display at the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing Offices in downtown Chicago. The program aims to better communicate their research with everyday people and help queer people see their issues being represented. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race and beyond. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. These stories have provided me with great reassurance and a sense of community, which I share through my art in order to provide the same sense of connection to other queer individuals. My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation for queer lost souls of the world. To connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood. It is incredibly important to see the limitless boundaries of art and animation. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my queer approach with mixed media. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens a work by making a direct, definitive voice. Being able to see where a project can benefit by exploring it from a different angle rather than struggling through opens up new possibilities for art direction. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work

My work, which consists of illustration and animation, has explored how queer history, culture, and representation impacts me and my community. I depict historical figures through mixed-media portraiture using unconventional mediums and materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of the lives of queer icons, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggle with poverty, deeply inform my artistic practice as I connect the process of each piece to the subject that it refers to. My mixed-media pieces begin with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work created by the subject are the driving forces of my work. I recently completed an artist residency with the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University.Through this work I refined my capability to transform research into compelling visual design, and I took the initiative to explore unfamiliar mediums. During this residency I synthesized complicated research about HIV/AIDS, STI’s, mental health, and the quality of life of queer people into digestible artworks on display at the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing Offices in downtown Chicago. The program aims to better communicate their research with everyday people and help queer people see their issues being represented. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race and beyond. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. These stories have provided me with great reassurance and a sense of community, which I share through my art in order to provide the same sense of connection to other queer individuals. My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation for queer lost souls of the world. To connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood. It is incredibly important to see the limitless boundaries of art and animation. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my queer approach with mixed media. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens a work by making a direct, definitive voice. Being able to see where a project can benefit by exploring it from a different angle rather than struggling through opens up new possibilities for art direction. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work

My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation that combines unconventional mediums with digital media in order to connect with queer lost souls of the world. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my queer approach to visual art. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens my work by making a direct, definitive voice that sees the limitless boundaries of art and animation. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters and explores themes of ocd and not belonging. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work. Though creating art and tapping into my own personal well has been an immense challenge the past year due to personal trauma and mental health struggles, art ultimately has gotten me through this rough patch in my life. The power of stories and the deeply personal connection developed between a creative and their audience kept me going, even when I knew I couldn’t. I believed one day that Laura Palmer’s sadness would end; I held that the dozens of experimental indie animators I watched on Youtube knew the pain I felt; I trusted that amidst the Victorian literature I fervently read that someone somewhere went through similar things. Experiencing the impact of stories again and again guides me to create illustrative work and animation for lost souls of the world in order to connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood.

My art practice combines unconventional mediums with digital media in order to explore themes of queerness, ocd, and not belonging. My mission is to make weird, mixed media art and animation for queer lost souls of the world. To connect with others through visceral work that makes you feel the terror of being perceived, known, - and in the worst cases- understood. Through the lens of this mission, I was obligated to channel my turbulent emotions following the results of the 2024 United States presidential election into a productive piece for my community. Contemplating the democratic process and perpetual fight against facism in the United States, I turn to esteemed playwright Tony Kushner for guidance. In his own words about the then upcoming 2024 election Kushner stated, “[t]o me [facism is] a very important, sometimes painful but important thing to re-encounter. The ways that the democracy’s antithesis manifests, as we say at Passover, in every generation. There’s a pharaoh that rises up and has to be opposed, and it’s a cycle.” This concept is present in his plays Angels in America and A Bright Room Called Day which explore the imperfect, human ways we battle against systemic social injustice throughout history. Comforted by the perennial nature of queer resilience in the face of despotic regimes, I was inspired by the symbolic use of the Bethesda Fountain in Kushner’s Pulitzer Prize winning play Angels in America. Kushner uses the fountain to represent the undying hope of Prior Walter, an HIV positive queer prophet who must inspire The Continental Principalities of angels that everyone, including himself, has lives worth living. Walter dreams of the day the fountain’s pipes will unthaw from the harsh winter frost and he will dance in its mythical healing waters. Despite the pestilence of political inhumanity, Walter overcomes the illusive appeal of doomerism and insists “[t] he great work begins.” Recontextualizing Kushner’s words and symbology I remind viewers, and more importantly myself, that there is no final battle for democracy. Our work is a continuous fight and we mustn’t let losses deter us from taking action. In the months since creating this piece, it has become more and more relevant to my everyday life. With increased political attacks removing protections for queer people, barring access to crucial gender affirming care for trans* people, and censoring queer research, resources, and history, we once again meet our pharaoh. We stand united on this front to oppose this evil, a testament to the continuous great work our community puts in to make this world a better place for everyone in it. With some new debuts and recurring actors, the never-ending work begins anew.

As a queer and transgender artist I find it incredibly important to see the limitless boundaries of art and animation. Seeing how complicated and nuanced identities can overlap or even contradict one another and yet still coexist brings a unconventional perspective to my approach with mixed media. Combining multiple artistic approaches, styles, and mediums strengthens a work by making a direct, definitive voice. Being able to see where a project can benefit by exploring it from a different angle rather than struggling through opens up new possibilities for art direction. My work often focuses on queer and transgender characters. Children deserve to see themselves reflected in the characters on screen. Animated representation provided me a healthy, cathartic outlet to come to terms with my identity. Continuing to give back to my community and push the boundary of what kinds of queer stories get told motivates my work. I am currently pursuing an artist residency with the Institute for Sexual and Gender Minority Health and Wellbeing at Northwestern University. This residency will allow me to synthesize complicated research about HIV/AIDS, STI’s, mental health, and the quality of life of queer people into digestible artworks on display at Feinberg College in Chicago. The program aims to better communicate their research with everyday people and help queer people see their issues being represented. Though I am excited at this opportunity to help my community and put my creative skills to good use, it creates more financial pressure regarding completing my degree. Diva of Halo Legacy Scholarship would allow me to continue Coco’s legacy by enabling me to afford school and bring attention to the finding of Feinberg College’s queer research. Since I am a queer person who didn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share our stories in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people.

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She wouldn’t explain why it was important to her but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how painful it was for my mom to do most physical activities, I quickly took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Without another parent, I was the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning. I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. I took care of myself and our family when my mom physically couldn’t. Becoming the sole bearer of this task was daunting, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Balancing difficult and demanding art classes and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. Many nights I wouldn’t sleep, staying up late to finish paintings for my AP art portfolio after spending the day at school and caring for my mom. Juggling all my responsibilities alone became a monumental undertaking, but I knew there was no way I could cut out art or caring for my mom. My brother still does not understand that she cannot physically do the things she used to. Knowing my brother continues to push my mom to her limits and make her disease worse, I feel the need to double down and do more work for her. My experiences taking care of my mom has fueled multiple art pieces and a passion to succeed in my field for her. My mom used to be an artist too, though now she struggles to hold a pen. She has loved and supported me through so much and I want to support her when she needs me. I draw for the both of us. Nowadays a lot of my art explores my relationship with her in different ways. I write comics about my coming out experience and my mental health. Sharing these stories with her brings us together, and I hope it can do the same when I am able to share them with the world. I can’t always physically be there for my mom. One day I will have to move out. It scares me that once I leave, her Parkinson’s will progress faster since she will be forced to do the strenuous physical activities I did for her. Leaving one day will be unavoidable, but I hope it can wait until after I have graduated. I aim to succeed in college and a career in animation in order to help take care of my mom.

This mixed media digital collage entitled "Become Your Own God" plays with the ideas of creating yourself in your own image through hormone replacement therapy and gender-affirming surgery. This collage utilizes scans of my own used testosterone gel packets and the medical warning packet that comes with each prescription. The expiration date on the hormone packets have been edited to read "Book of Genesis Exp 1:27." This refers to the Bible passage in which God creates mankind in his own image. I recontextualize 'The Creation of Adam' by depicting the biblical figure becoming the creator, rather than only the creation. Through surgical means Adam takes ownership and exerts his bodily autonomy. Creativity to me is about seeing all the possibilities of being, not just making art. As a trans person I don’t only express myself creatively through art but through my own body. I alone can control what my body looks like. I am simultaneously both the artist and the art. Like Adam I collage my body together, adding and removing parts as I see fit. This skin can be reshaped and form multitudes if only you imagine it can.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. Creating this work has been the most powerful way for me to use my voice and share this information with others. Sure I could write an essay about these people, but how many people will actually read it? Will the impact of their story be as provocative as a well thought out single image? My work always begins with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work written by the historical figure are the driving force of my work. Once I have researched my subject, I experiment with my medium and its application. Since my work is mixed media my approach to making a piece is never the same. I start by learning the basics of my medium, such as sewing or scratchboard. I then explore the limitations of my material and how to use those limitations to elevate the concept of the piece. For example I was inspired by the color limitation of scratchboard, so I explored using similar techniques on other easily scratched surfaces like vinyl records. My process of extensive research and meaningful choices in things such as medium, canvas size, and how many minutes I physically work on a piece are all unreplicable by an A.I. Art is about the passion of the process and creation coming from the soul. The meaning of art only matters within the context of it's creation and viewing. Without the historical context of the subject I depict, my own queerness, and subtle references in my work recreating my art through artificial means strips the image of it's value and emotional resonance. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people.

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She wouldn’t explain why it was important to her but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how painful it was for my mom to do most physical activities, I quickly took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Without another parent, I was the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning. I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. I took care of myself and our family when my mom physically couldn’t. Becoming the sole bearer of this task was daunting, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Balancing difficult and demanding art classes and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. Many nights I wouldn’t sleep, staying up late to finish paintings for my AP art portfolio after spending the day at school and caring for my mom. Juggling all my responsibilities alone became a monumental undertaking, but I knew there was no way I could cut out art or caring for my mom. My brother still does not understand that she cannot physically do the things she used to. Knowing my brother continues to push my mom to her limits and make her disease worse, I feel the need to double down and do more work for her. My experiences taking care of my mom has fueled multiple art pieces and a passion to succeed in my field for her. My mom used to be an artist too, though now she struggles to hold a pen. She has loved and supported me through so much and I want to support her when she needs me. I draw for the both of us. Nowadays a lot of my art explores my relationship with her in different ways. I write comics about my coming out experience and my mental health. Sharing these stories with her brings us together, and I hope it can do the same when I am able to share them with the world. I can’t always physically be there for my mom. One day I will have to move out. It scares me that once I leave, her Parkinson’s will progress faster since she will be forced to do the strenuous physical activities I did for her. Leaving one day will be unavoidable, but I hope it can wait until after I have graduated. I aim to succeed in college and a career in animation in order to help take care of my mom.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using unusual mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. My work always begins with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work written by the historical figure are the driving force of my work. Once I have researched my subject, I experiment with my medium and its application. Since my work is mixed media my approach to making a piece is never the same. This portrait is inspired by playwright Oscar Wilde and his tomb. Due to his work’s popularity and his trial’s infamy, it is a popular tradition to kiss Wilde’s tomb. The tradition is so popular that lipstick grease has deteriorated the tomb and glass barriers were installed to preserve it in 2011.The lipstick tradition symbolizes the public opinion about Oscar Wilde drastically changing. The man who was once outcast because of a kiss is now showered with affection to the point of destruction The portrait is done entirely with lipstick. The only exception is black acrylic paint for line art. The background is a pattern of green carnations, an important queer symbol coined by Oscar Wilde. I used a stippling technique to create the texture of the fur collar. The portrait is 13.2 inches x 8 inches to reference the unveiling of Wilde’s tomb in August 1914. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continue to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. My work always begins with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work written by the historical figure are the driving force of my work. Once I have researched my subject, I experiment with my medium and its application. Since my work is mixed media my approach to making a piece is never the same. I start by learning the basics of my medium, such as sewing or scratch board. I then explore the limitations of my material and how to use those limitations to elevate the concept of the piece. For example I was inspired by the color limitation of scratchboard, so I explored using similar techniques on other easily scratched surfaces like vinyl records. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continue to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people. I use my art to connect and remember our history. I believe art is important to preserve and commentate current events when words fail to properly express our feelings. History classes will never be able to capture the love and suffering the historical figures I paint have faced. My art expresses the lives of these people in more meaningful ways than documentaries and textbooks. Without art we lose what brings people and new ideas together. Art forces you to see the world in new ways.

The delicate swirls of peaks and valleys peanut butter creates on a sandwich. Scratches in a second-hand vinyl record twinkling and disappearing as it shifts in the morning light. Smothering layer after layer of lipstick on your mouth while a thick cakey film builds up - though you still insist one more, one more layer and I will look perfect. Textures like these inspire me to just play with my art, to explore unconventional materials to see what the medium can offer that art supplies cannot. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, everyday I look towards our history for reassurance and community. My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Sister Rosetta Tharpe’s influence on Elvis, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I then explore the limitations of my material and how to use those limitations to elevate the concept of the piece. For example I was inspired by the color limitation of scratchboard, so I explored using similar techniques on other easily scratched surfaces like vinyl records.

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She wouldn’t explain why it was important to her but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how painful it was for my mom to do most physical activities, I quickly took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Without another parent, I was the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning. I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. I took care of myself and our family when my mom physically couldn’t. Becoming the sole bearer of this task was daunting, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Balancing difficult and demanding art classes and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. Many nights I wouldn’t sleep, staying up late to finish paintings for my AP art portfolio after spending the day at school and caring for my mom. Juggling all my responsibilities alone became a monumental undertaking, but I knew there was no way I could cut out art or caring for my mom. My brother still does not understand that she cannot physically do the things she used to. Knowing my brother continues to push my mom to her limits and make her disease worse, I feel the need to double down and do more work for her. My experiences taking care of my mom has fueled multiple art pieces and a passion to succeed in my field for her. My mom used to be an artist too, though now she struggles to hold a pen. She has loved and supported me through so much and I want to support her when she needs me. I draw for the both of us. Nowadays a lot of my art explores my relationship with her in different ways. I write comics about my coming out experience and my mental health. Sharing these stories with her brings us together, and I hope it can do the same when I am able to share them with the world. I can’t always physically be there for my mom. One day I will have to move out. It scares me that once I leave, her Parkinson’s will progress faster since she will be forced to do the strenuous physical activities I did for her. Leaving one day will be unavoidable, but I hope it can wait until after I have graduated. I aim to succeed in college and a career in animation in order to help take care of my mom.

My work is often inspired by mixed media and using my medium to symbolically connect with the meaning of the piece. Exploring unusual materials, like lipstick or peanut butter, are the driving force of my art. I play with the limitations of an unconventional medium and how to use those limitations to elevate the concept of the piece. For example I was inspired by the color limitation of scratchboard so I explored using similar techniques on other easily scratched surfaces like vinyl records. My work also explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and symbolically connect my media to the meaning of my work. Sharing the stories of queer historical figures has become a major theme in my art. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people. Animation is the most impactful way to share stories through art. I am studying animation because I enjoy telling a story through my art. My series on queer history made me realize how important telling a story is to me. The life story of historical figures was the heart of that series. A portrait made of peanut butter loses its meaning without Carver’s agricultural work. Telling the story of their lives guides my artistic decisions about medium, composition, and color. My background as a queer mixed-media artist will help me explore unconventional animation styles to tell compelling stories. Expanding my knowledge of unusual mediums pushes me to tell weirder and more unconventional stories. My ability to work with many mediums and adapt my style and voice will inspire distinct visual styles in animation. I will continue to share the stories of queer history and my own original work as I continue my career.

May I relish in this moment any longer? As the chill dark morning beckons the sun to rise As the soft warm glow of the lamp caresses my face As hushed whispers raise with the sun As fresh fruit fills my belly As I, like the sun, rise Gloriously

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She would not explain why it was important to her, but I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s disease diagnosis a secret from my brother and me, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. Seeing my mom struggle to grapple with her own ailment, let alone try to explain it to her children, made me into the responsible and resolute person I am today. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how it pains my mom to do most physical activities, I took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Being the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. Balancing difficult classes, time-consuming extracurriculars, and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. Many nights I would not sleep, staying up late to finish schoolwork since I spent the day caring for my mom. Juggling all my responsibilities alone became a monumental undertaking. Without the help of my brother, it often feels like he does not care about our mom and making her life easier. My brother still does not understand that she cannot physically do the things she used to. Knowing my brother continues to push my mom to her limits and make her disease worse, I feel the need to double down and do more work for her. I cannot always physically be there for my mom. One day I will have to move out. It scares me that once I leave, her Parkinson’s will progress faster since she will be forced to do the strenuous physical activities I did for her. Leaving one day will be unavoidable, but I hope it can wait until after I have graduated. I aim to succeed in college and my career in order to help my mom. By excelling in school and getting a stable job I can financially support my mom and help take care of her. I am unable to do everything for her but I will do everything I can. My mom’s Parkinson’s diagnosis was life altering. I took care of myself and our family when my mom physically could not. Caring for my mom for almost a decade has been exigent. Having to mature into a dependable caretaker at a young age taught me the importance of family and hard work. After college, I aspire to triumph in my field in order to continue supporting my mom. My mom has loved and supported me through so much and I want to support her when she needs me.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. This portrait is inspired by Marsha P. Johnson, a transgender drag queen and activist. She faced homelessness and poverty for most of her life and fought to end the extreme financial struggle many trans women face. She founded STAR, a homeless shelter for queer youth, and was involved in the Stonewall Riots, the birth of the mainstream gay rights movement in America. I reflected Johnon’s poverty and camp style through mixed media and objects found at a dollar store. I wanted all the materials to be cheap and something she could have afforded. I used confetti, stickers, beads, and sequins to show the campy, glamorous aspect of Johnson’s drag style. She is known for her elaborate flower crown so I created a floral border with fake flowers. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people.

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She would not explain why it was important to her but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s disease diagnosis a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. Seeing my mom struggle to grapple with her own ailment, let alone try to explain it to her children, made me into the responsible and resolute person I am today. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how painful it was for my mom to do most physical activities, I quickly took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Being the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning I knew I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. Becoming the sole bearer of this task was daunting but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make. Balancing difficult and demanding classes, time-consuming extracurriculars, and maintaining our household proved to be a challenging tightrope to walk. Many nights I would not sleep, staying up late to finish school work since I spent the day caring for my mom. Juggling all my responsibilities alone became a monumental undertaking.Without the help of my brother, it often feels like he does not care about our mom and making her life easier. My brother still does not understand that she cannot physically do the things she used to. Knowing my brother continues to push my mom to her limits and make her disease worse, I feel the need to double down and do more work for her. I cannot always physically be there for my mom. One day I will have to move out, perhaps soon for college. It scares me that once I leave, her Parkinson’s will progress faster since she will be forced to do the strenuous physical activities I did for her. Leaving one day will be unavoidable, but I hope it can wait until after I have graduated. I aim to succeed in college and my career in order to help my mom. By excelling in school and getting a stable job I can financially support my mom and help take care of her. I am unable to do everything for her but I will do everything I can. My mom’s Parkinson’s diagnosis was life altering. I took care of myself and our family when my mom physically could not. Caring for my mom for almost a decade has been exigent. Having to mature into a dependable caretaker at a young age taught me the importance of family and hard work. After college, I aspire to triumph in my field in order to continue supporting my mom. My mom has loved and supported me through so much and I want to support her when she needs me. Though taking care of my mom is demanding, I rose to the challenge because I know she would do the same for me.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continues to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people. I will continue sharing queer stories as an animator and comic illustrator. The stories I write and want to tell focus on the importance of found family and identity. Those themes are fundamental to my existence as a queer person. Sharing my personal experiences with others will show that being queer does not mean being alone. My work will continue to reassure others that a happy, queer life is possible because of the strength and resilience of our community.

The pandemic has forced me to work harder and achieve greater things. I live with my disabled mother and grandma so during my senior year of high school I chose to attend school virtually. With less time in the classroom, I forced myself to make bold decisions and experiment with unusual art mediums such as beet juice, lipstick, and bananas just to name a few. The pandemic limited my access to classroom resources so I embraced the freedom of not working in a conventional classroom by focusing my portfolio on mixed media portraits. Working in this way forced me to reevaluate my artistic process, make more thoughtful decisions, and form deeper meanings in my art. By taking risks and excelling in two art classes, I was rewarded as the best art student of the year. My hard work made me question why I am so passionate about art and truly confirmed I want to pursue a career in animation.

On the cramped couch, my mom insisted it was important that my brother and I watch a movie together. She would not explain why it was important to her but I knew. I knew about the doctor’s appointments, the surgery, and her diagnosis. My mom attempted to keep her early-onset Parkinson’s disease diagnosis a secret from my brother and me, then ages eight and ten, but I listened to the hushed conversations between my mom and grandma. So when she turned on Back to the Future, I understood the significance of this moment. My mom slowly introduced my brother to the concept of Parkinson’s through Teen Wolf and Spin City. Every Thursday night my mom and I furtively recognized the tremors and slurred speech in Fox’s character in The Michael J. Fox Show. Today we privately take note as her muscles stiffen and she strains to walk, now forced to use a cane. Seeing my mom struggle to grapple with her own ailment, let alone try to explain it to her children, made me into the responsible and resolute person I am today. It hurts to see my mom struggle to drive or limp around the house. Her hands cramp up and prevent her from firmly grasping objects. Limited shoulder, hip, and leg movement preclude her from reaching high shelves, bending over, or crouching down. Knowing how painful it was for my mom to do most physical activities, I took over doing all of the chores and taking care of the family. Being the only one in my house physically capable of tasks such as laundry, cooking, and cleaning I had to step up and accept full responsibility for our household. Becoming the sole bearer of this task was daunting but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make.

My work explores the importance of queer history and historical figures through mixed media portraits. I depict historical figures using mediums and unconventional materials that symbolically connect to their life and historical importance. Details of their lives, such as Oscar Wilde’s tomb and Marsha P. Johnson’s struggles with poverty, dictate my medium and directly connect my art-making process to each subject. I avoid repeating a medium or technique to make each piece visually distinct in order to showcase the various types of lives these people led. My work always begins with extensive research on the subject. Documentaries, biographies, interviews, and work written by the historical figure are the driving force of my work. Once I have researched my subject, I experiment with my medium and its application. Since my work is mixed media my approach to making a piece is never the same. I start by learning the basics of my medium, such as sewing or scratch board. I then explore the limitations of my material and how to use those limitations to elevate the concept of the piece. For example I was inspired by the color limitation of scratchboard, so I explored using similar techniques on other easily scratched surfaces like vinyl records. As a young queer person who doesn’t have queer elders in my life, I look towards our history for reassurance and community. The lives and tribulations of historical figures assure me that I am not alone in my experiences. I aim to inform viewers of the deeply rich and often forgotten history of the queer community. We have existed in every pocket of history from ancient Greece to the Space Race. Though the vocabulary we use to define gender and sexuality continue to evolve, looking back at our history contextualizes the progress we have made and the progress that still must be done. I share the stories of these people in hopes to provide the same reassurance and sense of community that they have brought me to other queer people. I use my art to connect and remember our history. I believe art is important to preserve and commentate current events when words fail to properly express our feelings. History classes will never be able to capture the love and suffering the historical figures I paint have faced. My art expresses the lives of these people in more meaningful ways than documentaries and textbooks. Without art we lose what brings people and new ideas together. Art forces you to see the world in new ways.