About me

I am not one of those artists who has been drawing nonstop since I could hold a crayon. In fact, I didn’t take any art classes in high school or most of college.

Instead, I studied foreign languages and when I went off to Bates College, majored in English. I loved to read and write and left it at that.

Then, my very last semester of college, I took a ceramics class, and fell in love with it.

After graduation, I came back to my hometown, waited tables, and tried to decide what to do next. The interwebs were not much of a thing yet, so I ordered piles of graduate school brochures by mail to browse.

The thing is, being an adult didn’t look that exciting to me. My childhood had been rough, and many of the grownups around me—or so it seemed to me at the time—were either actively miserable or simply pretended not to be.

Also, many of the older adults I knew had regrets. My dad retired early from his career as a professor to paint, wishing he had done it sooner. Several others were switching careers much later in life.

Looking around, I noticed that coworkers who were promoted at the restaurant didn’t seem to actually enjoy the work at all. As it turned out, being good at something isn’t the same as loving it.

Once a week, I had lunch with a friend who was dying of AIDS at 37. This was the early nineties, before lifesaving drugs became available.

I was depressed and bitter, unsure about my future and still swimming in the leftovers of my childhood. Unsurprisingly, so was he. We swapped stories about working in restaurants and were depressed together.

I came home to piles of graduate brochures blocking the door. I had sent for any program that sparked interest or that I was qualified for, but they all bored me.  

Except the art school ones. So much color. So much life. So many classes I wanted to take. But I would not get into graduate school with just one class under my belt.

And then, I came across a page that mentioned “second degree students.” It had never occurred to me that you could get two undergraduate degrees!

The next day, sitting with Charlie, I pictured myself at the end of my life, looking back and taking stock as he was.

Suddenly it was clear to me that if I didn’t go to art school, I would deeply regret it. It would, in the end, only become a mid-life longing if I didn’t do it now.

Six months later, I moved to Boston to attend Massachusetts College of Art and Design, majoring in ceramics and printmaking and earning my second bachelor’s degree.

Of course, I worked in restaurants to pay for it.

Since then, I have put my writing and creativity to use in nonprofit fundraising and communications, while making art on the side. For the past few years, I have been making comics. It’s the perfect blend of writing, drawing, and storytelling and thankfully doesn’t make a mess.

And so far, no regrets.