I Will Have My First Art Show Spring 2025

It feels almost unreal to say this: I will have my first art show in Spring 2025. For years, the idea lingered in my mind—a faint whisper I wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge. But now, standing on business of this dream, I’m ready to turn that whisper into something tangible.

How did I get here? The answer isn’t straightforward, but one thing has always been clear: art is stitched into the fabric of who I am. From the time I was a kid, my imagination ran wild. I couldn’t sit still for long, yet give me a pencil and paper, and I’d disappear into another world. Drawing was my first love, the truest form of my creativity.

One vivid memory stands out to me. I was on the school bus, staring at the leather seats with their countless wrinkles. If you’re old enough, you know the kind I’m talking about. In those cracks, I saw something magical—a massive transformer-meets-mega-man robot. My eyes widened, and as soon as the bus stopped, I sprinted off, bumping past anyone in my way. I burst into my classroom and begged Mrs. Smith for a pencil and paper. I don’t know what she saw in my excitement, but she handed me a poster board. It was perfect. I drew the best version of that robot my imagination could conjure, and in that moment, I felt alive.

Art became more than just a pastime; it was my silent language, a way to say the things I couldn’t put into words.

Looking back, I realize art has always been my therapy, even before I understood what that meant. Growing up, I struggled with anger—deep, bubbling anger that would sometimes erupt without warning. I didn’t know how to process those emotions, but somehow, creating gave me an outlet. Whether I was drawing, breaking things apart, or building something new, art provided a calm I couldn’t find elsewhere.

But here’s the catch: I didn’t understand the power of art therapy at the time. When I was sent to art therapy as a child, I rebelled. I caused chaos because I felt forced into it, missing the gift right in front of me. It’s a regret I carry—not seeing how art could have been a tool to heal, grow, and understand myself. Now, as an adult, I see it clearly. Art has been my lifeline, helping me weather life’s storms and come out the other side. It’s not just a passion; it’s been a way to find peace, to make sense of the chaos. And somehow, I’ve been fortunate enough to make a living from it.

Art has always been my thing, but it’s never been just one thing. Over the years, I’ve explored countless mediums: drawing, painting, designing, photography, cinematography—you name it. Each medium feels like a unique language, allowing me to express different parts of myself that words could never capture.

Still, I always come back to drawing. It’s where it all began, and it’s where I feel most at home as an artist.

For me, art isn’t about perfection. It’s about raw expression—messy, unfiltered, and real. It’s about capturing the chaos of the world and finding meaning within it. And with Unorthodox Intellect, my upcoming art show, I want to share that journey with you.

This show is more than just a collection of works. It’s a reflection of everything I’ve learned and experienced thus far:

  • How art gave me a voice when I didn’t know how to use my own.
  • How it became my sanctuary in moments of chaos.
  • How it taught me that the process matters just as much as the outcome.

Each piece in this show has its roots in my story. They are expressions of joy, frustration, love, and self-discovery. They are glimpses into my mind, my process, and how I see the world.

Preparing for this show feels like stepping into a new chapter. It’s thrilling, terrifying, and deeply personal. But more than anything, it feels right.

This is my way of celebrating everything art has given me and everything I’ve become because of it. It’s my chance to embody the advice I give others every day: to show up, to manifest dreams, and to not back down when fear tries to creep in.

So here it is: Spring 2025, Unorthodox Intellect. My first art show. A culmination of years of work, growth, and love for the craft.

And to myself—Little, you’re manifesting this. Don’t back out.

I hope you’ll join me on this journey—not just to see the art, but to feel the story behind it.

Little

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