Artist Statement

             Growing up, I loved many things, but each new interest rarely surpassed the honeymoon phase. I had no shame in being a jack of all trades, master of none. Yet, over the years, outwardly expressing my passions became intertwined with excessive trepidation revolving others' perception of me. I moved a lot growing up; each new school, each new friend group meant I could recreate myself. My fixation on my presentation overruled my regard for my passions. Bouncing from hobby to hobby felt like collecting research data: which character could I play best? Over time, performing became unsettling; the masks that I used to conceal myself felt all-consuming. Allowing myself to truly examine who I had become, what I truly enjoyed, and who I wanted to be without incorporating others' perception of me led to a few interests sticking, and they became the pillars of my current identity. Fencing, reading, writing, and cheerleading are hobbies that bloomed from this analysis, but painting, drawing, and photography are the passions that fostered their growth. My art is the structural pillar of my identity that continuously aids my unapologetic expression of self.

 

            I am a firm believer that art is the antithesis of perfection, which directly contradicts my academic character. Studying neuroscience was a fitting decision since anatomy was my first love. However, I cultivated my love of anatomy through art. The dichotomy of objective and subjective was the balance I craved in my ever-evolving environment. Aiming to become a medical illustrator was a long-term goal until the thought of being critiqued occurred. Art as a career means consumers control creation. If others don’t like my art, it won’t sell; if others don’t like my art, it isn’t “correct”. Art as a career meant my structural pillar would crumble as I looked for acceptance in others. I would forever be chasing an intangible goal because there is no such thing as perfection in art; art can never be perfect for everyone. Creating art for myself means I can choose my imperfections and display them freely. These imperfections are the rawest form of my identity on the page. 

 

            One of my favorite drawings is a doodle comprised of all the bones in a foot; I was inspired by my human skeleton class. It is one of my favorite pieces because, in the haze of drawing, I realized far too late that I forgot a toe, and I was using a pen. I thought about starting over. I thought about trying to add a toe somehow, but I settled on calling it a day by adding an abstract scribble. To any viewer, this is a horrendous depiction of the tarsals, metatarsals, and phalanges, but to me, it is the closest depiction of anatomy that mirrors my character: I am a perfectionist when I choose to be, but to be human is to be imperfect, and through art, I get to choose the traits and characteristics that summate my humanity. 

 

            To me, drawings, paintings, and photography, above everything else, are physical manifestations of control. I control the beginning, middle, and end; I control the details, what stays, and what doesn’t. My art is the strongest constant in my life; some days, I favor painting over drawing, and some days, I take more photographs in an hour than I did in the entirety of the previous month. Regardless of my participation, art is always there waiting for me to decide to pick up the pencil, the pen, the paintbrush, or the camera. My art is an unapologetic reflection of myself, perfectly imperfect.