GROWING UP AN ARTIST
When I was 5 years old I watched my parents help a realtor put a for sale sign in our front yard. That was the day I found out we were moving. Far away. I was that mad kind of sad that I think we can only be when we are 5. Inconsolable and totally unreasonable.
My mom sat me down at the kitchen table with a box of crayons and said, “color how you feel.” I picked up the black crayon in my fist and colored such a grinding fast scribble that I ripped the paper.
That, my mom says, is when she knew I’d be an artist.
Since then I have been discovering all the different ways to create, tell stories, find beauty, and just make sense of life and faith. Mixed in to all that is a Bachelor’s of Fine Art from UNCA, a few art shows and awards, and some work on display if you happen in to the right cafes in Asheville.