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One vivid memory for me was when I was twelve. I had been playing in our basement for hours with my miniatures. The dolls I played with were those popular clip-on animals, about three inches tall. I had a squirrel family, a koala family and a raccoon family. At the time, I believe I was winding some thread onto a tiny 1/8” spool I had made. I remember running upstairs and crying to my parents. When they asked me what was wrong, all I could say was, “I know that when I grow up I’m not going to want to play with miniatures anymore.” I realize now the irony of that statement but at the time I felt crushed that one day the hours and hours I was spending creating miniatures would somehow not matter to me anymore.
My love for art stemmed from both my mother and father who always encouraged me to dream and become whatever I wanted to in life. My mother helped by stoking my imagination and making creative environments in which I could play and dream. My father, who is a talented photographer and watercolor illustrator, introduced me to the art masters through visits to art museums and gave me an appreciation of the beauty in nature and architecture.
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