A couple weekends ago, I participated in my first art/fashion show. I had modeled before but it has been a 15-year hiatus and I’m 70 pounds heavier and 1000x more body conscious. I invited a selective handful of loved ones, but didn’t really want any of them to show up. I was nervous, I felt unprepared, and I just wasn’t ready for close friends to see my work. Only 2-4 people have ever really laid eyes on my paintings, and like Erykah Badu once said “I’m an artist, and I’m sensitive about my shit.”

One friend in particular asked me how much I planned to sell my art for. I replied “I don’t know; I’m not expecting anyone to buy it because I’m not that good yet.” After weeks of rehearsing, the night finally came and the show was a success. All the models were beautiful, the audience encouraging, and the paintings amazing. I was honestly really intimidated by the level of skill the other featured artist had. I took a painting class in 2010 that I half assed through and have only been painting consistently for the last year.

I left my paintings to be displayed over the weekend since our show was Friday (Feb. 10th) and other events would be taking place on Saturday and Sunday. I got a call from the show curator around 9:00pm on Saturday. I answered and she excitedly responded “Someone wants to buy your paintings! All of them!” I was flabbergasted. I hadn’t prepared to sell any of my paintings and didn’t think anyone would care to take an interest in mine. I went high with the price and then low, I was grateful that someone cared enough to want to take a piece of me home.

I was on my way to a birthday party at a friend’s house when I got the call, and I didn’t really begin to process how I was feeling. When I was talking to one of the guest at the party, about how my paintings were never coming home, how I had created them in times of boredom or pain. How incredibly beautiful it was that someone wanted to take home the little weird things I created in my alone time, the tears just started flowing. I released a very special part of my heart to the universe and someone answered the call by giving all three of my featured paintings a home. I still feel a tinge of sadness when I look at my art wall at home and see three empty spaces. I guess all artist go through this when they’re separated from their first pieces, maybe not, but this was my experience. Very grateful to the lady who cared enough about my art to give it a new home, very grateful to the ones who have supported and pushed me (I needed the pushing the most) to this point of expression. I taught myself how to draw, how to paint and I’m still learned a lot every single day.

4 years ago I was a mess barely understanding what direction I wanted my life to be going in. All I knew was what I didn’t want and not what I did. It still changes every day, but I am finding my way. I’m proof that whatever you want you have to create it, connect with the right people, and watch your seeds prosper. I am beyond grateful to see the day that I’d find peace in my purpose.