Weird and Wild Career Paths

I recently dragged a box out from under the cobwebs in my basement. Pages of scribbly drawings spilled onto the floor as I lifted the lid. A box of my old art. It was like my past self just stepped into the room, wearing a thin black choker, a baby tee, bootleg jeans, and platform boots. I cringed for a minute, not sure if I wanted to remember this box of art from my 15-yr old self. But of course, I spent the next hour sifting through all the old sketchbooks and canvases. Boy. I have come so far.

In this blog, I’m going to try to skim through the various phases of my art career. It has been a wild, meandering exploration of creativity and wonder. When I was younger, I thought careers were supposed to be pretty straight-forward. Maybe that’s because of the adults I was surrounded by. I thought I would choose a simple career path at the age of 17 and just do that forever. How lucky I was that I was wrong.

Wedding Invitation Commission, age 20.

As a kid, I didn’t know any professional artists. Being one didn’t seem fathomable, so I poured over books about Monet’s life and all the Wyeths trying to understand what being an “Artist” would be like. Making art has always been my comfort and joy, a place to process the world, and challenge myself. Being able to do that as my job seemed like a dream.

Sketchbook, Age 10.

I grew up in a nature-loving house, being homeschooled by a nature-loving mom. I could often be found with my nose tucked into an issue of World magazine, learning about ferociously protective polar bears, grieving elephants, and swarms of ants that could devour a human bigger than me. I was that kid with animal posters exclusively pinned up all over my bedroom wall for way longer than was socially acceptable. Those were my heroes, who I learned from, and who I wish I could have been.

Fast forwarding a bit, I ended up enrolling at University of the Arts (RIP) in Philadelphia for Illustration. It seemed like the best choice for me since I spent every available moment in the art room, stippling with pens or washing with watercolors, getting every hue and tone just right. While at UArts, I explored every medium from sculptural illustration to oil paints. I ended up creating most of my pieces in chalk pastel, reveling in the saturated colors they provided. Scanning the powdery medium was a mess, though, and after I graduated, I never used them again.

Chalk pastel on toned paper. Age 19.

My internship near the end of college was at a toy and packaging design firm. How fun! I thought I’d hit the jackpot. They even hired me full time after my internship. But then they stuck me answering phones and emails instead of letting me draw. Although it led me to a well-paid job as a Project Manager and gave me a lifetime of lessons about how to run a business (and how NOT to run a business), it wasn’t what I wanted. While working there, I would come home and sculpt quirky animals to look like fantastical taxidermy and other home decor. I desperately needed to create. Sculpting animals was silly and fun and people liked it, so I eventually quit my day job to sculpt full time.

Octopus chandelier. Age 25.

Two weeks into my sculpting career, I was hit by a car while on my bike. I flipped over my handlebars and broke my wrist and couldn’t sculpt for 2 months while my bones healed. So instead, I tippy-tapped on my keyboard, building my first website. I designed my business cards, set up my art studio one-handed (took forever), and made elaborate business plans which I barely followed. I was in my mid 20’s and following a plan was the not something I was great at yet.

One day, a few years into my sculpting career, I volunteered at a pop-up theater, creating puppets for a local production of Don Quixote. The company who oversaw the puppet build was from New York and we immediately hit it off. For years after that, I regularly travelled to the big city to work with them. They introduced me to other companies, and I ended up building mascots, puppets, and props for places like off-Broadway theaters, big cruises, Sea World, Disney World, and Saturday Night Live. I feel like if I had an alternate life, I could have made building puppets and props my full career. I don’t do it much anymore and I legitimately miss it.

A falcon I co-created for SNL. Age… somewhere in my 30’s.

But as things would have it, my actual life went in a different direction. A little over ten years ago, I decided to travel the country for half the year and ended up living in Maine as a member of the Beehive Design Collective. They are a collective of artists and activists who focus on creating and presenting large-scale educational illustrations that tell stories of environmental, political, and social justice issues. The illustrations are huge, intricate and meaningful and chalk full of animal metaphors. I couldn’t help but fall back in love with the power and accessibility of illustration.

Art by the Beehive Design Collective.

When I eventually moved back to Philly, I got a job with a local nonprofit to pay off some travel debt and started drawing regularly again. I used my pen to illustrate large concepts and ideas and lent my skills to local environmental and social justice campaigns, designing posters and graphics, auctioning art for fundraisers, and drawing comics to tell their stories. I even teamed up with a friend, got the Beehive’s support, and created my own large-scale educational illustration about the impacts of fracking in this region. I have used this piece in dozens of presentations across the country to spread awareness and connect people to local environmental campaigns. It’s even been sent to 2 different continents, translated into at least 3 languages, and has a much further reach than I probably understand.

My career has been focused on illustration for ten years now. It’s been a fun and challenging path so far. I’ve illustrated games, comics, countless designs for posters, logos, maps, corporate gigs, personal commissions, and my own line of art that now provides the bulk of my bread and butter.

My path, even as varied as all my jobs were, built upon itself. Each job and each gig rounded out my view of the world, how I make art, and how I collaborate with other creatives. My process today, as well as my focus as a nature-based illustrator, is 100% because of the winding path I took to get here. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self that it’s ok to take on so many different forms as an artist. But instead, I’ll tell you, and maybe you’ll tell another young, bright eyed, bushy-tailed, mind-wandering free spirit. Just keep going and be as authentic as you can be doing all that you do. Be weird and wild, fun and free, pay off your debts, and then go be weird and wild again. It’ll be worth it in the end.