Do you remember?


Children are always asked…

“what do you want to be when you grow up??

Me. Oh no. I didn’t want to be a doctor. Or a firefighter. Nope not an astronaut either. I would declare.

“I want to be an artist!”

I’m not sure what that really meant at that age other than I could draw all day and get paid. Right??


Oh the cruel truths of adulthood. While I held on strong to my need to be an artist. I went to art school. Studied photography, and me the high school drop out walked away with a BFA in Fine Art Photography.

I attempted for a time to work as a photographer…ok I was the school picture day lady. No joke.

But I made nothing. I had one hell of a commute to work. The hours sucked and when it was the down season my pay checks paid for my gas to get to work.

Finally I just lost the passion.

Slowly. Oh so slowly it’s coming back.


I’m a little nervous and excited to share my in progress wall mural. Progress is slow. But so far I’m pleased.

Painting and drawing seem to fit my late night art moods a little easier than photography might. And I enjoy the tactile nature of it.


If only this depression would lift. I can feel the longing to work on something but the lack of motivation and inspiration thanks to the depression keeps me blocked.


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