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I knew I should be an artist as a small child, when I stood at the top of the stairs in my childhood home. I had both little hands full of crayons. I was aware that what was about to happen was going to be both the best creation I had ever made and ultimately end in a whipping. With that knowledge I took a deep breath, pressed the crayons against the wall and proceeded to run up and down the stairs to see what it would look like. I realized the importance of this dedication in college when I walked into my graphics class and looked around the room to see the other students unwrapping their beautiful wood carving tools and I look down at the screwdriver and hammer I held in my young adult hands. The sense of pride that followed when despite my handicap, I excelled became a deep rooted dedication and I realized art had always been my first love.
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