It was an early, quiet, Thursday morning, a year after my birth, I was sitting on the living room floor, with that fat, blue, washable marker around my neck hanging as a necklace. As a small child, my grandma always dreamed of me becoming a great artist and she read somewhere that’s how famous Picasso started his first scribbles as an artist. So there I sat on the floor of my childhood home, with a washable marker around my neck tied with a long soft ribbon that my Grandma invented. The sun shined through the window into the living room presenting a scene. My grandma sat across of me and watched me eagerly with wide,open eyes, waiting for my first scribble into the world of art and mysteries. I grasped for the cool,fat marker tied by the long ribbon around my neck. I gripped it in hand as I took my first mark on the tile floor as my Grandma watched in awe.

Throughout the rest of my childhood, this memory played throughout my mind and reminded me of how good it felt to have that marker in my hand as I drew my first work of art on the living room floor. My Grandma continued urging my in every way possible toward art after this experience, as I started to do the same for myself. As a kid I never watched T.V.; instead I sat by the big bay window in my old house that pointed toward the green, front yard and tried to draw the trees and the people that walked by. Every second I spent pouring myself out onto a blank piece of paper, like water into a cup. From there my talent for art just took off. pretty soon at the age of five I began learning how to draw human figures, and no these were not stick figures. Now, of course they weren’t full on perfect human figures, but for a five year old they were darn good. This was my mom decided it was time for me to start becoming more serious in art. From there on I expanded into art, applying my touch and personality and feeling to every little detail.

From that moment on it wasn’t just for fun; it became a deliberate matter for me. Some people are competitive at sports; art was my competition. After this I drew all kinds of works: abstract, realistic, fantasies. along with my Grandma by my side, I accomplished many tactics that you need to make an artwork effective for all people. Pretty soon, I started having art teachers telling my mom that their classes for little kids were too easy for me and that I need something else to challenge myself. I even had art teachers take my works and present them in children's hospitals, like the ones when you walk down the hall way you would see little kids painting presented throughout, that was me.

Along this path, I stumbled upon obstacles that I was forced to overcome. One of these obstacles was what I like to call it an art block, throughout my whole art experience they played with me. On one cold February morning, I sat by a new, big window, wondering what to draw as the ideas swam throughout my mind as I began scrummaging them as if they were not good enough. I completely blanked out about what to draw, I felt as if I drew everything possible that I could for myself! I wanted to create something new that I have not done before. So I spent hours thinking about what to do as the clock ticked on by as if hunting me!! I wanted to express myself differently but I felt stuck. I had the need to draw; it was as if my hand was pulling me at all directions to scribble something on to the blank, white, perfect paper, without I did not know what to do! I then heard foot thumps against the hardwood floor walk pass me. I looked up and my eyes met with my Grandma’s. She sat down quietly as if not trying to hurt a feather. My Grandma handed me an old, big, black photo album. Inside of this broken album were pictures of my family’s past leading from my Grandma's birth to my Great Great Grandparents. This photo album had photographs that were all black and white with so much history presented in each picture. There were photos of my Grandparents as kids playing with there siblings and pictures of their family all together. I even found a old photo of my Great Grandfathers in their uniforms during World War ll . This little album inspired me so much, I decided to take a picture from this photo album and paint it. By using this small thing as inspiration I was able to get past block and continue with my path through art.

Through this journey with art I received many valuable lessons from the mistakes that I had made. I  also experienced and learned that art is not perfect the first time, you are going to make mistakes no matter how hard you try, that's just apart of the journey that continues with anything in life. Just last week, on a bright, warm, Saturday morning I began painting a new piece, in this work I had an idea to paint a little,old town and above this town there would be face in the sky made out of clouds looking down at this town. So I began mixing the rich,smooth, bright colors as if not caring for anything else in the world. I took my thick, perfect brush and began printing the idea from my mind onto the blank, open canvas. My brush fell against the smooth, white canvas revealing rigid strokes against the cool surface. After I started painting though I realized that the paint colors looked weird,dull and had a different texture than usual. It did not feel like oil paint in an artist's hand nor did it look as great as it usually is when I paint with oils. That was when I realized I used the wrong type of paint! Now I understand what you may be thinking, it's just paint just continue painting. But for me it’s more than just about wrong paints. Not only did I waste a bunch of acrylic paint,(which was the wrong paint I used),  but I also wasted expensive oil which you mix with oil paints and a good canvas! Not only will the paint not dry right, it ruined the canvas and would not have the same effect toward a person's eye as oil paint would. The acrylic paint (which is not oil paint) ruined my lucky, perfect brush which my grandma bought for me when I was only four years old!! I was very mad at this stupid mistake, it ruined everything! If I had paid attention I would not be in the situation that I was in. Through this mistake I learned that I needed to pay closer attention,  not just when I am painting but the steps before it so my whole project isn’t set to flames. Now I learned that everything needs to be done precisely for the great outcome.
 

I certainly realized the hard way that everything's better with a positive attitude, if you want to accomplish the very best. For example, I had many times where I wanted to shred up a painting or a drawing and scream and cry into a pillow, but I went against my feelings and just stopped, I took a break so my mind could clear, so that the mist would be gone, and I could see the work differently. I was able to discover so many things about myself through my journey with art, I got to found out who I am as a person, what I like, what I dislike and it was easier for me to express myself on paper rather than letting my spirits fly around all the people that I am surrounded by. Through this I became me. I became a better artist, all these elements of my journey, my classes, my painting, my drawings, my mistakes led me to becoming the wonderful artist I am today, without these elements throughout my life, my journey would have faced a whole different future. Everyone has that certain something that traveled with them through their journey from a kid to an adult, I am still having my journey with art and experiencing many accomplishments, failures and mistakes. All that matter’s is my journey and that I continue walking along that dusty road.