POSTER-CHILD

I was always the poster-child. I don’t mean the kid who was the epitome of good-behavior or always remembered her “pleases” and “thank-yous.” I mean the one in group projects who would be handed the markers and pointed toward the empty poster board. 

From the moment I picked up my first crayon, it was taken out of my left hand and put into my right by my grandfather, who seemingly knew it was that hand that held the aptitude. But I thought that the muscle memory of true talent could come from tracing the works of real artists. This forced me to surrender my style, seeking safety by simulating what I knew were already considered successes. But it wasn’t Picasso’s conformity that caused his cubist style to flourish nor Van Gogh’s compliance that led him to prosper in his own impressionist approach. And it was in my own emboldenment that I found this to be true. 

I reconceptualized Frida Kahlo’s portraits in Andy Warhol’s pop-art presentation through digital illustration. I reconceptualized Monet into modern art through gouache painting. Their essence acted as inspiration, but I radically altered their styles to communicate my own approach. So, above all, I reconceptualized my own contributions as a creator. The muses that were so fundamental to me in the past are now gentle reminders of the evolution of my creativity. I built a Pinterest profile that now has hundreds of thousands of monthly viewers, communicating my sense of taste and individuality while consolidating my own works. I refined my style to develop a distinctive and easily recognizable look, which helped me stand out once I opened an online shop. Now, I sell my compositions as prints, and I’ve gained interest from people who have asked me to commission pieces for them. 

My stick-figure scribbles have grown into designs that people buy as posters. Who would have thought that I would quite literally become the poster-child?