I have been an artist since I was old enough to hold a pencil. As a child, I spent hours watching how-to-draw videos online. I brought a sketchbook to school daily; I focused on it until every page was covered end-to-end in drawings and I was satisfied. However, it wasn't just paper that held my attention but also technology; the idea of melding the two was irresistable to my brain. I used my first drawing tablet - a controller to an artsy video game - in third grade, and attended elementary-level digital art classes over the summer in the fifth grade. I fell in love with the idea of using computers to be creative. When I was older I spent time in foster care, living in a group home and struggling to keep hope. Art and design kept me grounded. When I entered high school and learned that I could take in-depth classes on my passions, the words "graphic design" immediately took a hold on my mind. I explored the field through using Photoshop and Illustrator in my classes, all the while honing my traditional art skills. For me, design has always been a zone of comfort; a way to healthily express my thoughts and feelings. A career in design would mean a realization of the dreams I had when I was younger- it would mean that I would be able to use my life and job to not only express myself, but to help others express themselves too.

As a person who has always been interested in art, finding new expressions of creativity to admire has been a constant goal of mine. Someone I have recently discovered and fallen in love with is the Texas-based artist Mayuko Ono Gray. Gray's work consists of a series of graphite-on-paper drawings combining images of every-day life rendered in a Western-inspired style layered underneath sweeping Japanese calligraphy. She employs pencil skillfully to render drawings in great detail, combining both flat color and realistic shading in her works. This ability is exemplified in 形あるものいつかこわれる_Beginning, a graphite work that radiates the result of a euphony of inspiration; mosaics, chiaroscuro paintings, her blended background in Texas and Japan; all put together to create something beautiful. She creates her work by building up layers of charcoal and graphite, practicing chiaroscuro and sfumato to create interesting, realistic effects. However, she never keeps her work entirely realistic, weaving Japanese lettering throughout every drawing. Gray draws from the two dominant cultures in her life to make something new, mending two parts of her heritage together to create a touching effect. When you look at Gray's work, you see a part of her soul as well. This inspires me as a mixed person living in Texas; I myself am Filipino-American as well as African-American, and I love the fact that I can see other people embracing their mixed cultures in artwork. When so much of the modern art world is dominated by one, highly-represented culture, it is absolutely refreshing to see work like Gray's hanging on the walls of art galleries. I can relate to Gray in her everlasting attempt to pull the distinct pieces of her life together, as I feel similarly about celebrating being Filipino and Black. Gray inspires me to love myself and both cultures equally.

When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to be a successful artist. I spent hours watching tutorial videos online, and brought a sketchbook to school daily, drawing in it until I was satisfied. I did the same with my schoolwork; whether it was an individual assignment or simply my little part of a group project, it had to be something I was proud of. In any case, I always found any excuse possible to be creative. Eventually, I brought my creativity outside the pages to the East Lubbock Art House. My art served a purpose there; I used my inventiveness to create flyers for Lubbock’s Freedom Festival, drew up shirt designs for the Walk to End Racism, and took photos of the march. Creating to help my community made me feel like I had found my place in the world- the thing I was absolutely sure I wanted to build my life around. It is that drive that burned in the younger me that fuels me today. I aim to enter the School of Art at Texas Tech and leave it as an accomplished artist. I hope to continue being involved in my community throughout my career, using my knowledge of art and design to do more good in the world. I want to see my work become so advanced that it stirs deep emotions. I want my pictures to communicate in a way that speaks to the soul. I want to be able to bring that sentiment to any situation, whether it be advertising, building a website, or developing a brand identity as unique as I am. Art is, and has always been, my passion- I dream that the work I create will be significant enough to inspire people; hopefully, someone else to pursue art.

When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to be a successful artist. I spent hours watching tutorial videos online, and brought a sketchbook to school daily, drawing in it until I was satisfied. I did the same with my schoolwork; whether it was an individual assignment or simply my little part of a group project, it had to be something I was proud of. In any case, I always found any excuse possible to be creative. Eventually, I brought my creativity outside the pages to the East Lubbock Art House. My art served a purpose there; I used my inventiveness to create flyers for Lubbock’s Freedom Festival, drew up shirt designs for the Walk to End Racism, and took photos of the march. Creating to help my community made me feel like I had found my place in the world- the thing I was absolutely sure I wanted to build my life around. It is that drive that burned in the younger me that fuels me today. I aim to enter the School of Art at Texas Tech and leave it as an accomplished graphic designer. I hope to continue being involved in my community throughout my career, using my knowledge of art and design to do more good in the world. I want to see my work become so advanced that it stirs deep emotions. I want my pictures to communicate in a way that speaks to the soul. I want to be able to bring that sentiment to any situation, whether it be advertising, building a website, or developing a brand identity as unique as I am. My greatest dream is that the work I create during my career will be significant enough to inspire someone else; hopefully, some other small child to pursue art.

Freshman year had barely started, and high school was already shaping up to be the worst era of my life. It was mid-September and I would usually be asleep in my bed, with its silky sheets and my favorite book close by - a book my father had given me. My father did not know where I was, or what was happening. My entire life had changed overnight; one day I was being excused out of class for a reason unbeknownst to me, and the next I was whisked away to a place named “The Children’s Home of Lubbock,” which could not sound more unappealing. I was losing my friends and my family, and everything I held dear was slipping away like the minutes on the dashboard’s clock. As the street lamps punctuated the inky night sky, I pulled my backpack to my knees and rummaged through its pockets for something to distract me amid the chaos and confusion. I heard as the adults in the front seats of the unfamiliar car spoke in hushed tones; words like "abuse" and "poor girl" rang in my head. I settled on my source of comfort; my well-worn sketchbook and a pencil. In the back of the dimly lit vehicle, I drew. I had been an artist since I was old enough to hold a pencil. As a child, I spent hours watching how-to-draw videos online. I brought a sketchbook to school daily; I focused on it until every page was complete, diligently mark-making until I was satisfied with the outcome. I did the same with my schoolwork- whether it was an individual assignment or simply my minuscule-but-mighty part of a group project, it had to be something I was proud of. I found any excuse possible to be creative. Throughout my time in foster care, I never stopped creating art; it kept me grounded in a turbulent period, and was my favorite class in every high school. Freshman year, I attended the school the Children’s Home was zoned to out of a sense of obligation- and I disliked it. I felt I was not being challenged enough. I spoke to the staff to discover if I could go to a different school to take more rigorous classes. I persisted, even when everyone else I lived with was content with the other school. I began attending Lubbock High School my junior year, and I took AP classes for the first time. It was exhausting and demanding, but it was the experience I wanted; I was learning. Eventually, I brought my determination outside the pages to my work at the East Lubbock Art House. I felt as though my art served a purpose; I used my inherent inventiveness to create flyers for Lubbock’s Freedom Festival, I designed flashy murals to brighten up the previously drab Take-What-You-Need community fridges outside, I drew up shirt patterns for the Walk to End Racism and took photos of the march. Lubbock went from being foreign to somewhere both I and my art had a place. Although I was happy with my part-time, weekend job at the Art House, the pay was low. It was a non-profit built to support BIPOC people in the area with lofty goals and high hopes, and it had been created fairly recently. It was impossible to expect anything more than what I was given. It was emotionally fulfilling and by all means amazing, but I simply needed to save up extra money so that I could afford college; room, board, a new computer, textbooks. I knew that I needed to start soon, and I found myself saying goodbye to my coworkers soon after my 17th birthday. Not very long after that experience ended, I landed a job as a team member at Braums' Ice Cream & Burger Restaurant. I officially became a member of the foodservice industry, even though it wasn't what I was really interested in. I worked - and still work, to successfully balance finishing off my high-school education with a part-time job while developing personal skills like thriving in a group setting, handling stress, and respecting my co-workers. Last summer, I returned to my roots in the creative industry. I taught art to children who were in my shoes- those in foster care, struggling to have hope. Going through what I have taught me how to help not only those kids, but also to treat people in general with love and compassion, and to use my knowledge of art, design, and communication to make the world a better place. I look forward to having the wonderful opportunity to continue doing good in my future as an art student in college, and this scholarship would go a long way in helping me succeed.

When I was younger, I wanted nothing more than to be a successful artist. I spent hours watching tutorial videos online, and brought a sketchbook to school daily, drawing in it until I was satisfied. I did the same with my schoolwork; whether it was an individual assignment or simply my little part of a group project, it had to be something I was proud of. In any case, I always found any excuse possible to be creative. Eventually, I brought my creativity outside the pages to the East Lubbock Art House. My art served a purpose there; I used my inventiveness to create flyers for Lubbock’s Freedom Festival, drew up shirt designs for the Walk to End Racism, and took photos of the march. Creating to help my community made me feel like I had found my place in the world- the thing I was sure I wanted to build my life around. It is that drive that burned in the younger me that fuels me today. I aim to enter the School of Art at Texas Tech and leave it as an accomplished graphic designer. I hope to continue being involved in my community throughout my career, using my knowledge of art and design to do more good in the world. I want to see my work become so advanced that it stirs deep emotions. I want my pictures to communicate in a way that speaks to the soul. I want to be able to bring that sentiment to any situation, whether it be advertising, building a website, or developing a brand identity as unique as I am. My greatest dream is that the work I create during my career will be significant enough to inspire someone else; hopefully, some other small child to pursue art.

Freshman year had barely started, and high school was already shaping up to be the worst era of my life. It was mid-September and I would usually be asleep in my bed, with its silky sheets and my favorite book close by - a book my father had given me. My father did not know where I was, or what was happening. My entire life had changed overnight; one day I was being excused out of class for a reason unbeknownst to me, and the next I was whisked away to a place named “The Children’s Home of Lubbock,” which could not sound more unappealing. I was losing my friends and my family, and everything I held dear was slipping away like the minutes on the dashboard’s clock. As the street lamps punctuated the inky night sky, I pulled my backpack to my knees and rummaged through its pockets for something to distract me amid the chaos and confusion. I heard as the adults in the front seats of the unfamiliar car spoke in hushed tones; words like "abuse" and "poor girl" rang in my head. I settled on my source of comfort; my well-worn sketchbook and a pencil. In the back of the dimly lit vehicle, I drew. I had been an artist since I was old enough to hold a pencil. As a child, I spent hours watching how-to-draw videos online. I brought a sketchbook to school daily; I focused on it until every page was complete, diligently mark-making until I was satisfied with the outcome. I did the same with my schoolwork- whether it was an individual assignment or simply my minuscule-but-mighty part of a group project, it had to be something I was proud of. I found any excuse possible to be creative. Throughout my time in foster care, I never stopped creating art; it kept me grounded in a turbulent period, and was my favorite class in every high school. Freshman year, I attended the school the Children’s Home was zoned to out of a sense of obligation- and I disliked it. I felt I was not being challenged enough. I spoke to the staff to discover if I could go to a different school to take more rigorous classes. I persisted, even when everyone else I lived with was content with the other school. I began attending Lubbock High School my junior year, and I took AP classes for the first time. It was exhausting and demanding, but it was the experience I wanted; I was learning. Eventually, I brought my determination outside the pages to my work at the East Lubbock Art House. I felt as though my art served a purpose; I used my inherent inventiveness to create flyers for Lubbock’s Freedom Festival, I designed flashy murals to brighten up the previously drab Take-What-You-Need community fridges outside, I drew up shirt patterns for the Walk to End Racism and took photos of the march. Lubbock went from being foreign to somewhere both I and my art had a place. Last summer, I taught art to children who were in my shoes- those in foster care, struggling to have hope. Being taken from my biological family was by the most impactful obstacle I've faced. However, it taught me how to help not only those kids, but also to treat people in general with love and compassion, and to use my knowledge of art and design to make the world a better place. I look forward to having the wonderful opportunity to continue doing good in my future as an arts student in college.

I touched the tip of the pencil to the piece of alabaster well-loved, ripped-at-the-edges paper in my lap. It was a motion I had gone through over a thousand times before, only this time was different. I was not drawing from the comfort of my bed; but instead, from an unfamiliar, rickety chair inside a children's home. I was ripped from my birth father at 14, but I had not caught up with the impact of the situation- I was convincing myself I was only a character in a storybook or stuck in a lengthy nightmare. But even amid such an unprecedented, harrowing state of affairs, I could still do the one thing I knew how to: draw. Art had been a part of my life forever. When my father yelled at me or my parents engaged in vicious arguments, I would go to my room and draw. It was solace for me, the only safe place I had. I gained an appetite for drawing; it was something I needed to do to express my thoughts and feelings healthily. In my later days in middle school, I would research the works of artists whose pieces I admired on my own. I gained a rudimentary understanding of what it meant to take inspiration and learn from others, and I wondered what it would be like to take that role someday. In my most distressing times, it doubled as my primary source of entertainment as well as my private therapy. When I entered the Texas foster care system at 14, one of the only things I had with me was my school backpack containing my favorite sketchbook and a small bag of pens and pencils. I continued creating art throughout my time there, culminating in my internship acceptance to a new arts-based non-profit in the Lubbock area aptly named the East Lubbock Art House. The Art House was formed around helping the marginalized people of color in the area by building community through art, and my job was to exemplify that. Every weekend, a staff member would drive me from the group home to the insignificant brick building, where I would clean out the community fridge, meticulously paint brush strokes on the always-changing wall murals, and speak to the people who stopped by and asked what we were working on. In the summer after the year I turned 16, I took a series of art classes for children in the foster care system. It was during that time that I met the woman who would become my adoptive mother, an assistant teacher. I talked to her often, about my art and how much it meant to me, and how I missed having a home - and before I knew it, her family - my now-mother, father, siblings, rambunctious dogs, and favorite source of love - were being offered to me. Before I knew it, I was leaving the group home for a home of my own. However, the Art House stayed in my heart and I continued to be a part of it. Eventually, they began offering art classes to children in the area. I stepped up as an assistant teacher, and the first group of students I had were, to my surprise, people I knew. Children who had been in that same group home, just like me. And there I was, able to use my knowledge to teach them about the magic of art. I was able to make a difference in my community through the smiles on their faces, and I aim to continue that for the years to come.

I showed what being a Texan meant me through the image I created below.