I am an artist. This is not a "what" I do, but a "who" I am. In fact, like so many other artists, I always knew I was an artist, from my earliest memories. My mother knew it, too, and encouraged it. After all, I drew and painted on everything, from the bulletin in church to the books on my parent's library shelves to the palms of my own hands. I dug gumbo clay from a little hole in my yard to fashion little pots and bowls, which quickly turned to lumpy dust. But I never gave up. If something looked interesting or beautiful, I brought it home, hiding it in my little cardboard jewelry box, hoping to find a use for it some day.
Some things never change. (Except for the cardboard jewelry box). I make art not because it's something to sell, but because it is something I must do in order to be my self. It's what happens when a person is created to be a maker of things.