DIY

Evolution of a Young Artist

Or, how I grew up, but never lost my love of art

Some of my earliest art from elementary school. A bit wrinkled and abused from being stored in card board boxes all these years.

Growing up, I was always an artist. I loved drawing, scribbling down images from my imagination and of the world around me. I would draw on loose sheets of paper and in my diaries, and whenever it was an option, I would include art in my homework assignments.

I distinctly remember receiving constant praise from adults about my art, telling me I was talented, that I was gifted. My art-based homework often received A grades (as with the two images above), and I learned that drawing could be a way for quick approval.

Likely, this approval contributed, at least in part, to my confident belief that I would become an artist when I grew up—a certainty that never wavered throughout my early school years.

Pages from my diary when I was 7 years old, in which I state twice, “I am going to be an Artist,” along with doodles of a flying unicorn and a car driving. (As a side note, this diary page also states my plans to have a hamster in college, which never happened after being bitten multiple times by a friend’s hamster made me afraid of the tiny creatures — so, it turns out I was wrong on both counts.)

As I grew older, I remained resolute in my goals and pursued them by continuing to sketch and draw in my notebooks. When choosing electives, I always opted for the art class, where I learned about the color wheel, one- and two-point perspectives, and other techniques designed to help young artists build their skills.