The Childhood of an Artist
Me at about 5 years old with my poodle, Licorice.
Ever since I learned how to hold a pencil, I have been drawing. Every piece I create today traces back to those early moments of curiosity and wonder.
I grew up in a small town called Beeville, Texas — a quiet place with a population just over thirteen thousand. My family lived in a small ranch-style home on the outskirts of town: me, my mom, my sister, and my stepdad. It was there, surrounded by open fields and endless sky, that I first learned to appreciate the quiet beauty of nature.
Beeville had a countryside that felt almost magical to me. The sunsets blazed with color, the nights were filled with twinkling stars that stretched beyond what my eyes could take in, and every evening carried the distant sound of coyotes echoing across the fields. I remember lying on my trampoline, listening to their calls and letting my imagination wander: Why were they howling? Were the high-pitched ones the pups? What did they do all day out there in the brush?
Those questions, that curiosity — that’s where the spark began. My inspiration and my lifelong fascination with nature grew from moments just like those.
At age five, I spent afternoons at my grandma’s house drawing orcas, horses, dogs, and cats while Little Bear played softly in the background. By age seven, I was carrying animal encyclopedias everywhere I went, tracing the photographs and fueling my imagination with every page. After school, I’d watch The Crocodile Hunter and feel even more connected to the animals I loved to draw.
By age eleven, I was experimenting with watercolor paints and sketching horses from my treasured Usborne How to Draw Horses book. Each year, the art grew with me — but the heart of it always stayed the same: a girl captivated by the natural world and determined to bring it to life on paper.
Every piece I create still carries the spirit of where I came from —
the dusty roads, the animals I loved, the quiet rural mornings, and the dreams of a little girl who wanted a horse of her own.
My paintings are a tribute to the simple life I once longed for and still cherish today. When people connect with my art, they’re connecting with that story.
A Note to Aspiring Artists
If you’re an artist just starting out — or returning to a creative spark you thought you lost — I hope my story reminds you that art doesn’t begin with confidence. It begins with curiosity. With wonder. With the simple act of picking up a pencil and allowing your imagination to guide you.
You don’t need the perfect tools or the perfect technique to begin. You just need the willingness to explore, observe, and grow. Every artist, no matter how skilled, started exactly where you are now — with a blank page and a small spark of inspiration. Your beginnings matter more than you think.
For Those Who Collect My Work
When someone brings one of my pieces into their home, they aren’t just purchasing art — they’re holding a piece of my story. The colors, landscapes, and animals I paint all echo the rhythms of my childhood and the places that shaped me. It means more than I can express when my work speaks to someone else’s memories, dreams, or love for the natural world.
Thank you for finding connection in the moments and memories that continue to inspire me.
Thank you for being part of this journey with me. Whether you’ve followed my work for a while or just discovered it, I’m grateful to share the heart behind what I create. My art began with a kid and a sketchbook, and every new piece is a continuation of that story.
