Art was not always a part of my life. In my art education classes, it was often cited that around 4th grade is when many students subconsciously decide if art is “for them” or not; around this age, some students find a lifelong passion for art, while others become discouraged by comparing their work to others and determine for themselves that they’re “not good” at art. I was firmly in the second category. As a kid, I couldn’t separate the ideas of “art” and “drawing”; my aphantasia made sure that drawing never felt natural to me, and therefore, I wasn’t good at art. When I was a little older, I bounced around a few non-illustrative mediums — film, photography, collage, zines — but it was just for fun, and I never took the idea of being “an artist” very seriously.
Discovering letterpress changed all of that. I gave it a try just because it seemed cool, but I had no idea the kind of impact it would ultimately make on my life. The first time I pulled a print off a Vandercook SP-20, I felt like I discovered something about myself as well. It was one of those “eureka” moments in life, when you just know deep in your soul that something important just clicked into place. This was “for me” in a way that I didn’t realize art could be. This was what I was meant to be doing.
Letterpress just lights up something in my heart. I love the tactile, meditative nature of it. I love thinking about the legacy of all the printmakers who have come before me throughout history, all the hands who have used the same tools as my hands. I love the feeling of making something new out of something old. The constraints of letterpress inform a lot of my art, and I feel the most comfortable working with evolving ideas. Finding my niche in letterpress empowered me to explore the world of art, develop my skills and discover my talents. I am an artist at the beginning of my journey, and as I start to get the courage to branch out, I can’t wait to see what my career has in store for me.
But I also never let go of the idea of doing art for fun, as a form of pure expression and play. I’m a process person at heart; the artwork produced is mostly secondary to the joyful and revolutionary act of enjoying the process, no matter how long it takes. In addition to informing the process-heavy mediums I’m drawn to, this philosophy is also what drew me into education. I feel called to teach because there are so many people, especially children, who are just like I was — feeling like they can’t enjoy art because other people are doing it “better.” What does being “better” even mean? I feel better at art than anyone who isn’t enjoying the process as much as I am.
Teaching someone to do art is cool, but teaching someone to love art is even more special. I never thought I could love art, and now I love it more than I ever thought I’d love anything. I want that for everyone, and that’s what education means to me.