Art for me was never just a hobby, but something I just had to do. It’s as though art was some spiritual form stuck inside of me, always asking to be let out. I had to use my artistic creativity on every project or assignment I worked on, or I felt as though something was missing. I remember ever since I was young making art simply happened, although I never had formal training. Before I was even in the upper classes of elementary school, I was making things most normal kids my age couldn’t dream of making. I sketched extremely detailed depictions of animals and cartoons, and I could make any project look as though a much older, artistic student had created it.

As I developed in elementary school, and on into middle, I began to realize I was different from most kids my age. Everyone including my family, friends, teachers, even strangers would talk of how talented, creative, and unique I was. It was then that I began taking art classes and realized that one day I was meant to be an artist. There was nothing I enjoyed more. I could sit and make art for hours on end, the whole time feeling as though only a few moments had passed.