"Being an artist is in your blood. I'm an artist, your grandfather is an artist, and your great grandfather is an artist. You are a natural born artist."
My father told me this when I was in the second grade. I believed him. From that day forward everything I drew was divinely inspired, a supernatural force channeling through me.
It is interesting, looking back now, how powerful words can be, especially on the impressionable mind of a child.
I never took an art class. Well, I took ONE. It was an introduction to drawing at a junior college. An easy 'A' that taught fundamentals. It was actually fairly helpful considering how little skill it required from the students.
But after that, nothing. I taught myself. I often wonder what sort of skills I might have acquired had I pursued art as a career. Instead, I was a Biology Major, an area of study that quickly bored me. People always lit up when I told them I was studying to be a doctor. The idea of it convinced me that I should go that route, but along the way I knew it would never retain my love.
I've worked in child care, foodservice distribution, outdoor vending, veterinary medicine, and I even published a magazine. For almost 15 years I was a fitness trainer. It was during the final years of wearing that hat that I discovered I could make money with my artistic skills. Make money. I hate that phrase. It pulls all the life out of artistry. The anguish of exchanging something you'd do for free in perpetuity for contracts requiring you to do so. As though channeling one's artistry and forcing it through themselves could possibly yield something deeply human. It is the definition of contrived. Congratulations. If you've made it this far you actually know a little bit about me.
