

Confessions of a shy person...
Day Seven: Day Seven came after a frustratingly long break due to a very fickle and irritating matter: Indiana's weather. It snowed, it rained, it was warm the one day I was out of town, so finally the weather is beginning to get a grip. I was not without work over my two week break, of course. I got roped into (kidding, I live for this stuff) painting/designing a set for Avon Middle School South's production of Seussical the musical. While everyone including my boss for this


What can I help you find, Miss?
Day Six: After a few days coming up a little short on the productive scale, the universe was set on keeping my pace slow. And so came the sickness. Immediately after day five of painting I was wiped out. After a self diagnosis of the flu I thought I should probably see a doctor. I described what I was convinced were flu symptoms to a real professional who easily told me I had strep throat. Great. Out of a 24 hour period I literally slept for 22. One of those awake hours was s


I'm not in highschool, I'm 24.
Day Five: I was ready and excited for day five of painting. Due to day four's freezing weather, I chose not to accept the 65 degrees my iPhone told me it was outside, so I was bundled up, hat, scarf, gloves, layered, and ready to paint outdoors. As soon as I stepped outside I felt ridiculous in so many layers. I quickly stripped my winter accessories off and felt the warm 65 degree air. (I love my iPhone but that damn thing sure is unreliable.) I began with finishing the yell


I hate green.
Day Four: What a day. I woke up eager to get painting after a short rest to care for my sore body, checked the weather as I obsessively do every morning before lifting my head from the pillow (along with every other app I check on my phone like the basic millennial I am) and was out the door dressed to work. Now I'm a cold weather person. I live for snow, below freezing, three pairs of socks weather, so in 48 degrees I threw on a light coat over a jacket and was out the door.


20 minutes every 2-3 hours
Day 1,2,3 aftermath: Being an artist is a soul fulfilling job. I wake up excited to create (most days), I work hard and feel the greatest happiness looking at the image I've grown and molded from a blank surface. Seeing your work turn out beautifully is the best. But such a pretty image hides all of the frustration and pain, physical pain, from its unaware viewers. Taking a few days break from this mural to work on last minute set painting for HCT's Beauty and the Beast has f