The Story of Where My Love For Art Began

In the house I grew up in was a bay window that faced the front yard. It was the tower lookout to my castle, the place where I would park my lilac wheelchair as a little girl and watch the outside world pass me by.

I have this one memory ingrained in my mind sitting by that window and watching my brother and his friends have a snowball fight. I longed to be out there with them. I was your classic tomboy growing up— choosing video games over barbies, wrestling over dress-up, war paint over painted nails.

But being disabled as a child imposed various restrictions in my life, and the fact of the matter was simple: I couldn’t participate in the same activities as my peers due to my physical limitations and overall inaccessibility of the world. Because my wheelchair couldn’t drive through snow, during a snowball fight I’d have to sit on the sidelines— or, in this case, the bay window— and watch.

While my childhood was fulfilling in its own extraordinary way, many of my experiences took place on the sidelines. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. However, it also wasn’t what I would have chosen— especially as a child who didn’t quite yet grasp the reality of her disability. I wanted to be immersed in the activity, getting my hands covered in a ball of snow or playing a sport like my brother did. I wanted to sink my feet in a fresh blanket of snow and play kickball in gym class and simply BE a kid. Even so, my parents did an incredible job at trying to make my childhood as inclusive as possible. 

But, when there were instances where my participation wasn’t physically possible, I channeled my frustrations and desire to be included by creating my own little world through art.

For hours, I’d sit with a pile of paper and a pencil and draw out activities in my head I wanted to be a part of. These 2-dimensional drawings covered in charcoal lines would come to life in my imagination. I’d talk aloud and personify my illustrations by pretending they were talking to one another. I’d create storylines, friendships, and get totally lost in my own little world where I could do anything.

Somehow, in the most unexpected way, it was how I learned to cope with the loss of the things I never was able to experience. But, in doing so, I also discovered the immense joy illustrating brought me and have chased that feeling ever since. 

When the covid-19 pandemic began, I suddenly began reverting to my childlike tendencies with my art.

For the first time in a long time, I was sidelined. I was met with a void I hadn’t felt in years, and I wasn’t sure how to process it. The words “quarantine” and “high risk” were being thrown around by medical experts, and I was beginning to see that this was serious. 

After years of working towards creating a semblance of independence in my adult life with the help of friends and caregivers, I had a feeling everything was about to change. I was about to hunker down, isolated with my parents, and commit to it for the long haul with no end in sight. (Yup, still sidelined a year later!)

In those first few months of quarantine, I reacquainted myself with drawing— something I had put on the backburner for years due to the falsity that I “didn’t have the time.” I did have the time, I just chose not to utilize it well. But, if the pandemic did give me anything at all, it was the gift of time, and so I started to fall in love with drawing all over again. 

Since that fateful day in the spring of 2020, I have not skipped a day of drawing. Among all the anxieties and hardships this pandemic has caused, creating art has been my floatation device. My silver lining, if you will, to a seemingly endless dark time.

Of course, my drawing abilities are much different (and better, thank god) than they were 2 decades ago. I’ve graduated from pencil and paper to more complex digital illustration programs. I’ve taught myself the world of graphic design and have begun to take on freelance projects. I even accomplished a childhood dream of selling my artwork online. But, the purpose drawing once served long ago still remains the same to this day. 

No matter the circumstance in which I’ve been sidelined, art will forever be the game I can always play.