As a first-born, coming to America with parents who knew the bare minimum of the English language, I had always felt a sense of misplacement. I was torn at the idea that this land was my new home and yet encouraged to never forget where it was that I came from.

When I began school, I found relief when the bell would ring, signaling the end of the school day, which meant that I would go home to my parents, and speak my native tongue, without the pressure to remember foreign words and spend a day reciting them, always being so self-critical when I would let my accent slip.

As years progressed, I did well in classes with very little difficulty, often times receiving the highest percents on tests and assignments, yet somehow I continued to feel that there was something missing, perhaps a bridge that could help me communicate to my parents, my many achievements.

Going home meant family time, and family time meant talking to my parents and younger siblings about my day, and a rundown about what occurred day to day. I felt frustrated when I could not relay messages to my family because of our differences. Don't get me wrong, I did continue to speak Spanish, however with many new words being added to my English vocabulary, and the increasing frequency of the use of the English language among friends and school, I quickly put Spanish on the back burner.

Although I continued to excel in learning the English language, my parents, busy with work, did not.

That's when I found the arts. It was not until middle school where instead of isolating myself completely, bothered by the disconnect at home, I found a new medium in which I could express myself in a way that did not need a language, and that was with art.

The more I learned about art, the more I was swayed into pursing it, realizing that no matter who the audience was, it could be understood. Art does not need a language, rather it is universal, and there is no explanation needed, it is simply felt, and experienced individually.

Now, I am an art major, and I am proud of it. Being into the arts, is not something that came to me as a means to make money or to commercialize, rather as a way to heal, and reflect in hopes that other people could feel the same.

Art is never ending, it changes and adapts with changing times like we do. It lives on through each decade, growing, changing, and thriving. As individuals change, art changes with them, hence the reason why civilizations have endured and art has flourished.

Now, I aspire to make art in a way that people can one day come across what I have made and become inspired. Every brush stroke I lay on a canvas is strategically there for a reason. Nothing I make is random. Art is my outlet. It is an escape from reality. Pablo Picasso once said,

"Every child is an artist. The problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up."

I don't want to grow up. I draw inspiration from everyday occurrences in my life when I produce art. Just like I don’t plan out my paintings, my muse for making art is never a routine. I just let it happen. I am subdued by events in my life that leave a lasting impression which don’t leave until they are brought out, and in my case it is typically through the art process. They emerge from the deepest places of my mind. The art process for me is one of healing. It allows me to engage in the subconscious and it pulls at the strings of my heart until I give in and let my emotions pour out as from a broken vessel. I am an artist and no matter the utensil I use, I am always creating.

All in all, I strongly believe that one does not need to be an artist to appreciate art, and to root for it, because it can help in many ways. Art reaches the masses, and has the power to change lives.

I will always be an advocate for the kinds of things that make my life a lot more livable, and art is one of them.