Of course, I went to art school. where else would I go? And then they asked me what my major would be. I chose what felt the most me and what seemed the most responsible in terms of paying rent: photography. But I still wanted to be a painter. Or maybe even something that didn’t have a word or something that was everything. Like Robert Rauschenberg. Painting/silk screen/photo/sculpture. How dare you ask me to play favorites. But I did. Once I bullied my way into a drawing class with the best teacher MICA had to offer, Howie Weiss. He taught me to create work I didn’t believe was in me, always pushing me to find that elusive, makes-no-sense, forget-what’s-supposed-to-happen-on-the-page and do the art I was meant to do. And I did and it was abstract AF and I transcended. And then he remembered I was a photo major and he apologized for thinking I was a real artist.

Maybe there’s an artist living inside you. Maybe you never even tried to make art because you think you should already be good at it, or you worry you weren’t born with that gift. But maybe it doesn’t matter. Besides, it’s all relative. It’s all subjective. I believe art isn’t supposed to be pretty. Nor does not have to look realistic. That’s why we have cameras! Art is meant to express, to evoke feeling, to calm, to enrage. It can be a means unto itself. So, you don’t need to worry if it’s “good.” If you think you want to create something, you should. Just try. Just start. Just put marks on a surface. A paper bag, a canvas. It doesn’t matter. Does it feel good? Awesome. Keep doing it.

I recently found some of my old artwork from college. And by “found”, I mean drove to the house of my roommate’s parents, and took them home to my house. The art, not the parents. Why my artwork wasn’t moldering in my own parents’ house, I can’t tell you. All these years I knew I needed to go get them. I planned to go get them. And I thought, when I get them, I’ll flip through them, remembering those idyllic days, and then toss them in the trash. But, you know what? I actually was impressed by some of the pieces. Impressed by my talent and also the talent of my professors who managed to extract something not-bad from that young artist-to-be. Now they aren’t masterpieces, they’re homework assignments. Exercises, practice pieces. But they all have a certain something. A somewhat satisfying quality that seemed to be innately me. Of course they aren’t all the work, in all media, that I produced in those four years, just a mysterious collection that got separated from the rest. I didn’t even major in Fine Art or Painting but Photography. So here is a small random collection of work that I did all those years ago. Thank you to Maryland Institute College of Art for a great college experience, and to my roommate Penny for reaching out to me.

I’m always looking for backgrounds, patterns, interesting colors and textures. Here are a few.