At the age of 7, my brother was diagnosed with a brain tumor. My parents and I would spend hours waiting for him as he went through his brain surgeries, which felt overwhelming and scary. To pass the time I would sketch drawings based on my Disney Adventures and fill his room with them so that when he came back he would be surrounded by his favorite characters. Some days I would wander the hospital halls and take myself to the computer room to play math games or Where in the World is Carmen San Diego. On other days I’d paint in the art room or sit in the waiting room with my handheld games, poker was one of the main ones I played. 

Eric was never back to his old self after his brain surgeries. He had short-term memory loss and every other month, it felt like, we were being told he might not make it. Art is where I’d go to escape and find a safe place.

In 2019 my brother, at the age of 32, passed away, not able to take any more rounds of treatment for his cancer.

Now I find myself going back to art; finding my way without him here and trying to push past putting a brush back to the canvas. What I share might not always seem consistent, but when I do, know that there was a lot that happened behind the scenes to make it happen.

I don’t have a big story to share with you about how I became an artist because I’ve always been one. You could find a crayon in my hand at the age of four. My brother, Eric, and I crafted and painted ceramics together as kids. I won coloring contests and drawing contests in elementary school.

I can share with you the impact art has had on me and how it helps me process my environment and everything happening around me.