The Story...
In unorganized - potentially chronological - order
Not-an-artist-artist
I never studied art but I always covered myself in it. I studied Environmental Science and Feminist and Gender Studies if you are still curious about what I chose to define myself by I never identified with art because it was everywhere. I painted ugly masterpieces in Taiwan art studios, filming music videos on tree tripods, and following my eyes to whatever my curiosity craved.
Because I never studied it, I found it in the cracks of everything I did. Professionally as a Community Director. Socially as a dinner party enthusiast. As a walking connector, I spied my way through each travel, friendship, and wandering path.
I feel grateful it was never forced, and it grew at its own pace until it all connected.
Gifting
I am never been satisfied by anything unintentional, ignorant, or convenient. A memory or moment can be shared through more than a photo: a shell, quick sketch, crumbled-up gum wrapper, or a voice recording of the deli clerk.
When I say thank you, I prefer to say it by noticing the lines of a home, picking details to the spotlight, and writing a note in cursive. As I extend my definition of home into the coffee cups and borrowed sweatshirts of friends, I always left a drawing.
I wanted them to know I notice their hospitality, I notice their objects, and I appreciate them.
I am not an artist, but I choose to notice things and listen to them, which could be considered art.
First, I notice them. A window. A sleepy mother. Lonely lamp. Extra-ordinary red-rimmed door.
Then I trace them. With my eyes or a song, and eventually a pencil and a thin black pen. Simple and humble, nothing exuberant.
Close enough to its original form but closer to creating a story and an expression of its mood.
I love to notice things, but I love more to color them with meaning, stories, banter, between-call catchups, and I’ll miss you’s.
Noticing
Put up a poster- why not?
When I was between jobs, I felt the most connected to my art. It kept me sane and reminded me that your purpose and inspiration are always there—even when someone doesn’t see it.
The only thing about art is that it is easy to feel lonely. Despite talking to trees and lamps through back-and-forth pen strokes, I missed the adrenaline of collaboration and the momentum of the best idea ever.
December 16, 2023: I made a poster. I hung it up in Kolache Coffee Shop and inscribed my call for creatives through half sentences and romantic metaphors.
May 4th, 2024: 4 people emailed me back. I saw your poster. Maybe you won’t get this email.
I prefer emails over text any day.
