My Jumbled Art Journey
When I was 16, I took a portrait drawing class at Worcester Art Museum (#WAM). I had taken art classes before, but this was a class for more “serious artists.” I was enthralled. I took more classes. Eventually, one of my favorite teachers, Ella, got me a a job and I worked for WAM throughout high school and college. I did everything from assisting teaching in public schools to modeling for portrait classes to eventually interning with their scholarship public school students. I wanted to do it all. I loved learning and working there! During college, the education director verbally gave me an agreement for a job with them after I graduated. Unfortunately, the month before I graduated art school, the museum either lost funding for the job I was promised or they decided to go with someone else - but they forgot to tell me until I called for confirmation about my start date. Honestly, when I was finally told, I was devastated. (Full disclosure, years later, I still love #WAM. Dont get me wrong, I was mad, but I understand mistakes do happen! And the museum is amazing.) But my clear cut art journey turned messy from that point on. I was confused, hurt and lost. But although my art story could’ve ended there, it did not.
Sure, my pride took a hit. Sure, it didn’t feel great not having a plan. As an “achiever”, I worked hard and fast. But here I was, no job. It felt awful being jobless when I thought my art future was secure.
But I had still graduated early, so I saved a lot of money. I still had my portfolio, which was extensive. I had my art degree, so I could still apply to other jobs. But my confidence was shaken. However, God, my parents, siblings and friends, through their words and through scripture, reminded me to take stock of my blessings. Ok, I realized Jesus wasn’t surprised by this.
I’m not proud to say I wallowed in self-pity, losing myself a bit in gaming and an emotionally abusive relationship. But I think most people in the human race can relate to wallowing and unhealthy relationships at some point and I am not ashamed to be human. But I am not proud of it. Praise be to God, it didn’t last forever. I eventually had several startling wake up calls, maybe I’ll write about them. But the journey back to art was jumbled, for sure.
Post art school, I worked in journalism for 2 years (my passion for writing shows up on long posts 😅). For many reasons, I quit that job and felt the need to help others, not write about them. From there, I worked as a mental health counselor on a locked psychiatric unit for a year. I have so many stories for that. God protected me a lot. God also taught me so more empathy than I would have learned from anywhere else. From there, I took a job assisting ICU nurses on a cardiac surgery unit for a year. These experiences broke my heart and pride in many ways. They pulled out of me my deep desire to help others. I thought that meant I had to help people heal physically. I thought I had to become a healthcare provider. So I enrolled in a doctoral nurse practitioner program.
Yes, this art museum reject took all the pre-requs and scored high enough to be accepted into a great doctorate of nursing program. God is a miracle worker friends. I told you my journey to art was a jumble.
But as I worked as a nurse through many roles, I felt my heart continuously beat for art.
After years working as a nurse, and deciding to graduate only with my masters degree instead of my doctorate. Now, I say “only” not be down on myself- it was very challenging get a masters degree in science! But I stopped before the doctorate very purposefully. God made it very clear to me after many different roles in the medical sphere, that finally, after half a year into a pandemic, He called me back to art.
My husband, who has been my best friend and best everything since I started nursing school, has always seen the artist in me, even as a I pursued all these various paths. One weekend, before God called me back to art, we took a trip to the Cape. As we soaked up the sunshine and the quiet, we would take time in the morning reading scripture and praying. It was there that I heard God’s very clear command and encouragement to me.
“Creating art is how you help heal others.”
“Creating art is a gift, not a burden.”
“Creating art is one of the first things I did, and now I want you to do it too.”
All my old art wounds started healing. All the things I told myself I couldn’t achieve, all the lies I believed, they started to break down. God asked me to make art. And I believed that I could again. He restored my confidence.
I answered yes. Almost 11 months later, here we are.