I remember when I weighed almost nothing and I could fall backwards on my butt without it hurting, I was sitting on the dining room floor in front of a roll of butcher paper. My dad’s good friend was visiting from California, and he was showing me how to draw a city skyline. He started at the end of the paper, and when he’d filled the page with buildings, he unrolled it and gave me the pen.
He said he was an artist.
It’d be poetic if I said that was the first time I knew I wanted to be an artist, but I’d be lying if I said I ever knew where I was going.
I really thought I’d end up a scientist, but at the beginning of Junior year of high school I realized me and the education system just didn’t get along. I spent most of my childhood in a children’s theater troop, so I spent my late teens early twenties (after leaving school) doing stage management, props designing, lighting design/tech, and all kinds of strange backstage jobs. I spent two years trying to get an apprenticeship as an electrician, before someone I met through theater started a float center and pulled me on as an illustrator and graphic designer.
So I’m an artist.
My five-year-old self would be pleased.