This is how it all started.

 

      I’m sure all of us have heard of someone that started doing art young. Although most don’t sound real, I am one of them.

 

      At the age of 3, and only three. I did my first still life painting which was a red plate filled with daisies. Apparently that same day I also did my first figure drawing painting, which was of a cat, that according to my mom was staring at me painting my daisies. 

 

      My mom to this day, still has those first finger painting drawings that I did, in the back of some cardboard, from a TV we had just bought.

 

      It’s crazy to see them and to clearly see what I had painted, and what my point of view was.

 

      What amazes me the most is that I’ve never not known me without having a paint brush on my hand, paint on my cheeks and a wardrobe wearing the colors of the of the art piece I have just done.

​

      Growing up I wasn't aware that there was art classes that I could taken to improve my passion, since I could only keep it a hobby do to my dad not agreeing with me about making it a job... This was a conversation I had with him at only 11 years of age. 

      

      In high school I had to take a few electives and since I liked painting I decided to give it a go. That first week I truly fell in love. It was a feeling that consumed me in a happy way. It made me feel complete. I even won a scholarship to study at the Academy of Arts in San Francisco. I had not mentioned a single thing about it to my dad, but my mom and middle brother were there every step of the way.

​

      When I got to college I was studying Nuclear Engineering since I knew art wasn't an option, but that did not stop me from taking a elective in Art History. My mom saw how much it brighten up my day just to talk about it. So after months of discussing it, I finally did the switch to become and Art Major.

​

      Around that time my mom explained to me why my dad didn't want me to follow my art dream. It turns out my  dad did oil paintings. They were oil landscapes. He was around 16 when he started to become good at them and everyone loved them. Until one day his profesor asked of he could showcase them for a friend (his friend had a gallery). My dad handed him his paintings and the months went by and his teacher never gave them back. Since my dad didn't sign them or date them, the teacher did. He put his name and information down. It had turned out he had sold them at the gallery under his name and he didn't give my dad a dime for his paintings. 

​

      My dad was afraid something of that nature was going to happen and I could lose everything. From there I spoke to him and mellowed things down. And now I follow my passion proudly as a second generation Artist in my family. 

     

      Even though I can’t remember those first magical and important times, just like in any other Artist’s life. I would not change it for the world. It has made me who I am and now it's a part of of me and a part of my life.