I spent my high school years hiding out in various art rooms in an effort to avoid gym class. It wasn’t that I didn’t like exercise or even sports. It was the showers! Who wants to shower with a bunch of strangers, in public, no less. Bad idea.
Artwork created during HIGH SCHOOL circa 1979
When I left high school, I really failed to have a plan (thank you guidance counselors) so instead I flailed around for awhile until I thought, “I know, I’ll go to Art School”, and at the same time, I’ll explore the southern United States, because that’s where the music this yankee girl was loving, came from.
Enter, The Art Institute of Atlanta. I got my feet wet in various mediums, pre-computers! Just my two little hands. Loved working with them too. My dad always said “Work with your hands for a living, and you’ll be sorry for the rest of your life”. If I have a slogan it would be, “Work with your heart, and most likely things will turn out ok”? (Not much of a slogan, I know).
Artwork created at The Art Institute of Atlanta circa 1983
After a year, I left AIA due to a lack of funds and courage, and a yearning to return home to be with someone that I had met while on a break. Most of the art I created at that time went missing. (If you’ve found a black portfolio of artwork in a basement of a house on Symco Drive in New Britain, CT circa mid 1980’s, please let me know!)
Having lost my way, I thought “Why not enroll in a graphic design program at Tunxis Community College”. I actually thought this was one of my more practical ideas.
Artwork at Tunxis Community College circa 1987
More flailing. Working paycheck to paycheck. Wanting something more, I enrolled and did very well at a trade school that was popular at the time called Computer Processing Institute, which crashed and burned in 1992. The 90’s were a good time to be in the computer services industry though, and I stayed put for about 15 years, holding roles like Electronic Technician, Computer Systems Specialist, Network Engineer, and Systems Administrator.
No longer working with my hands, I was making my dad proud presumably, but looking back, my heart suffered.