As a child, my Saturday mornings were rather lonely. My friends would be off at soccer practice or dance class. I would be left to my imagination. From as far back as I can remember I was always a curious child. My earliest childhood memories consist of rummaging through my parent's closet on search of finding hidden treasure. I frequented their closet on account of working on my strut in my mother's 3-inch, white, cork-heeled wedges and studying the peculiar art filling my father's sketchbooks. I was fascinated with the idea of art. The idea that I could make my imagination come to life through drawing was thrilling. All I needed was a sheet of paper and my 64-count crayon box. Knowing that my father had a degree in Art inspired me. I didn’t see creativity as something being geared towards a hobby, but a possible career. I was always looking for ways to express my imagination. My earliest drawings illustrated my love of fashion. I was in awe gazing at the glamorous women in the magazines. I would draw the models and design fashions. I was happiest when I was left to illustrate my vision. I looked forward to those lonely Saturday mornings of crayons, paper, and imagination.
