“My mom had her own issues, so I was never really parented. I spent most of my time alone. Cereal out of the box. Packets of ketchup. The occasional cold chicken finger that she’d bring back from a night of partying. I left the house when I turned twelve and started staying with school friends every night. By thirteen I was making my own money from acting gigs and extra work. And by sixteen I was completely on my own. I couldn’t balance school and work so I dropped out in the ninth grade. I worked in record stores. I started photographing bands and then moved into photography. That’s what I’ve been doing the last twenty years. Lots of commercial stuff. Lots of happy family snappies in the park. But these last few years I’ve moved into fine art photography. And the whole ‘art thing’ really requires me to put myself out there. It’s personal. So I’ve had to confront my past. I’m sensitive about my lack of education. I don’t have a degree or the sense of entitlement that comes along with it. Sometimes it can feel like a closed door. Like I don’t belong. It can be difficult to self-advocate. Or stay confident in the face of rejection. Or own my space when I’m dealing with someone that is difficult. Ironically my husband and I have a lot of friends who are authors, or professors, or film directors. They’re all very educated. I just never had the chance. I had to zig and zag and do whatever I could to survive. But I got here. I’m attending my own art show this afternoon. And you know what? Talking through this stuff just made me realize that I’m proud of myself.”
