When I was young, I never thought I’d become a visual artist. I wasn’t the child that was always drawing or picked up the watercolors at 2, though I did spend a lot of time daydreaming which by my teenage years became dreams of rock-stardom. Fate, life choices, lack of action and perhaps cosmic forces, steered me (at times abruptly) into a totally unexpected unplanned creative life. Note that I even credit the negative experiences in the journey. I often say that I had to discover myself as an artist to discover myself.
When I began making art and dove deep into the process, one day I suddenly realized that not many of my childhood or adolescent dreams had come true. But my new life as an artist turned out to be full of surprises that had proved bigger and more fulfilling than many of my initial dreams.
Becoming an artist turned out to be the best thing for me and I wouldn’t change it for anything else.
Dreams require action to come to fruition, but sometimes a lot of our emotional crap can get in the way or paralyze us. Art for me became a way to process what paralyzed me and heal. Soon enough I understood that some of my early dreams had a lot more to do with ambition and having something to prove, based on how I felt and was treated, and had nothing to do with a real path that would bring me fulfillment.
Today my childhood dreams can still become a reality through my work. And in my ongoing creative practice and search I get to fulfill brand new dreams.