Hi,

I am a 2022 Homeschool Graduate who lives in Spokane WA. Art is one of my passions. Through many mixed media pieces, I have been exposed to a wide variety of mediums including: acrylic, pastel, watercolor, fiber, pencil, ink, and ceramic. Throwing on the potter's wheel and drawing are some of my favorite ways to create. I love my big family, my church, history, audio books, music, hiking, camping, and traveling.

Some deeper thoughts about me:

God’s Gardener

My mother has told me that as a corn-silk-haired little girl I had no interest in coloring books. In fact, I downright did not want one. Instead I wanted a clean sheet of paper where I could draw the things around me and the thoughts inside me. As I have grown, so has my love of art. At the age of seven I started attending a young artist’s weekly studio. Over the seven years I spent at Reach for the Arts I was exposed to much more than my printer paper and No. 2 pencils. My love of simple graphite drawing remains strong but through the studio I added the love of sculpture as I learned to work in clay and fiber. My teacher, however, provided more than the physical elements of art when she introduced me to the great artists of the past. With a focus in the studio on the impressionists I decided my favorite was Monet. So this past year, even though my tastes have expanded since then, I jumped at the opportunity to see his work in person for the first time.

 In awe I stood before Monet’s Etretat ocean cliff masterpieces. Details never to be captured by a camera left me speechless. But as I wandered through that gallery other things grabbed my attention- the way the museum had guided me through a story, the way the stylistic “feel” of the different old frames complemented each piece, the lighting, the color of the walls, the organization of the paintings. So much more than just the paint made the masterpieces sing. 

That experience helped articulate my career goal in a new way. I desire to be the one who brings people into an object's story, be it a painting, sculpture, manuscript, natural wonder, or daily item of the past, making each sing. And for myself I desire to glimpse the faces of objects that are rarely tilted toward the public- the back, sides, bottom, inside. I intend to double major in History and Studio Art to move toward this dream. 

 With curator aspirations not clearly aligning with a Studio Arts degree, people question my pursuit of one. My response is that I am an artist. This identity shapes how I see the world. When I draw something it comes into focus in a different way. In particular I find much joy in drawing people. It is a beautiful mystery how when I draw a person from life, when the living breathing soul is there in the room with the pencil and paper, the drawing takes on life. Even though a reference photograph can allow for a more “correct” drawing, in the end, the life so often is unexplainably absent. Other than drawing, my main medium is ceramics. Maybe it’s because I have only been exploring this medium regularly for four years, but I find it hard to shape my love of pottery into words. I like the feeling of holding a 3D creation, the practicality of a thrown mug, and the unplanned path a piece can so easily take. In college I hope to expand my skills in both these areas with the resources, peers, and teachers which higher education provides.

I believe my art is a gift from God, the great Artist. Because of this my reason for creating can never truly be self expression. Instead it is an expression of praise for the God who created line, color, light, hands, eyes, brains, and every form of inspiration and then handed them all to His created images- you and me. As a commissioned gardener of God I intend to spread His beauty through my art. 

Creating Beauty

“I am an artist. My goal is to make beautiful things. This drawing I just did is ugly. But I am not supposed to make ugly, disproportionate things. If I want to be an artist I should not be making those mistakes.”  These were the subconscious thoughts that had left me in a blue mood this past fall. My art teacher was the first to diagnose my unrecognized fallacy. Pulling me aside after class, he asked me to promise him something. Hesitantly, still slumped in my frustratingly critical mood, I agreed. That day I promised to not label my art as “Ugly”, to not continue to title my work the “Ugly ________ #1, #2, #3, etc.”. This forced inspection of my physical written titles caused me to reevaluate how I was internally viewing my art. 

The following evening as my brothers jammed with their jazz group in our living room, I slipped into the corner with my neglected sketch book and set myself some rules: No erasing. Draw what you see. Move past mistakes. I began. First, in an attempt to use some recently learned body proportion tricks, I drew my brother soloing on his Tenor Sax; but I got his feet, or maybe his whole lower half, backwards. I forced myself to let it go, turn the page, and pick a new subject – my brother’s back as he swayed with his trumpet directly in front of me, then the old guitar player’s bespectacled profile as he stared into the air by the piano, next a seated trumpet player with his baseball cap flipped backwards, and finally the brief glimpse of the clarinet player’s profile peaking through his viking-like hair and beard. The last chorus died away and I flipped back through my five loose sketches done in that half an hour. I realized that I was content with them. Without the expectation of needing to be “perfect” I had drawn something I could be proud of.

 My favorite sketch from that night is still the guitar player. That dear family friend had stood unaware for under five minutes immersed in the chords while I captured a piece of him, completely by accident. That sketch reminded me of why one of my favorite mediums is drawing, especially people from life. In the moment when you finish a sketch that miraculously truly looks like the other deep human being sitting across the room; it is beautiful. That evening of drawing freed me from that particular restrictive, dreary hole which I had trapped myself in that fall. A hole of “perfection” that had prevented me from creating beauty to share with those around me.

Another area of my art that has taught me an astounding amount about failure and the learning process is pottery. Each finished piece represents half a dozen of its fellows that perished along the way. When I sit drinking black tea from my favorite mug I can recall the first three cylinders I threw alongside this one that never progressed past the bat and my clumsy wet hands, and the next duo which were trimmed into fragile telescopes, and the other that “S” cracked in the bisque firing, and finally the last precious few that I drowned in glazes and sent to a fiery execution. To tell the truth my favorite mug barely made it either. So as I drink my black tea not only do I know a lot of ways not to make a mug, I also have learned to not give up on a project just because it’s not beautiful yet.