I sold my first artwork at 5 years old, although I suppose selling rocks painted with nail polish at a roadside stand might not deserve a spot on my resume.  Nevertheless, I was ecstatic that someone valued my art,  and I continued creating avidly into my teen years.

As I entered adulthood, I left much of my art behind. Some of it was the natural evolution that comes with raising a family, but I also was part of a subculture and that specifically devalued my creativity. Almost twenty years later,  from a place of profound ache, I began to return to various art forms to find my voice. I took solace in music, channeling its inspiration into doodles of buoying quotes and lyrics. Doodles evolved into drawings, and then developed into paintings. As I continued to create, my art led the way to jailbreak, granting me healing and a profound sense of liberation from much of my pain. I began to see the value in my art as an increasing number of people connected with it.