People often see the art first. The vivid colors, the swirling lines, the energy I pour onto every canvas.
But my art is more than paint. It’s a map of my identity as a uniquely abled artist.
Finding Freedom in Art
From an early age, I realized the world wasn’t built for bodies like mine. Simple things—doorways, sidewalks, public spaces—were obstacles most people never thought twice about.
I grew up navigating life with forearm crutches, wheelchairs, and a constant awareness of how different I felt.
In those moments when the world seemed too big or too inaccessible, I turned to art.
A paintbrush became my voice when words fell short. Painting was where my body’s limitations faded away. There was no judgment. No barriers. Just color, motion, and the freedom to create my own reality.
From Raw Expression to Connection
In the beginning, my art was intense and raw—a way to process frustration, loneliness, and pain. My canvases were filled with bold strokes and dark shades. It was my way of reclaiming control over a life that sometimes felt confined by physical limitations.
But as I grew older, something shifted.
My art became less about escape and more about connection.
I started sharing my story publicly—not just as an artist, but as someone living with a disability. It was terrifying at first. I worried people would see my disability instead of my talent.
Instead, people reached out.
They told me my art made them feel seen. Parents messaged me about kids who finally believed they could be artists, too. Other uniquely abled creators said my openness gave them courage to step forward.
That’s when I realized: my identity isn’t just part of my story—it’s the power behind it.
Creating Beyond Limitations
Today, my art is layered.
It’s the physical layers of paint that build depth and texture on the canvas.
And it’s the invisible layers—my struggles, resilience, victories, and quiet moments of doubt—that give my work its true meaning.
Even the way I create has transformed.
I’ve invented tools to paint when my shoulders hurt. I’ve adapted my techniques to work from different positions. I’ve learned to rest when my body demands it—and to listen when inspiration strikes.
Being uniquely abled doesn’t limit my creativity. It fuels it.
It makes me innovative, persistent, and deeply empathetic. It pushes me to find solutions where others see barriers—and to make sure the art world is open for everyone.
Why I Keep Sharing My Story
My art has become a bridge. A way to bring people into my world, to help them see beauty in difference, and to start conversations about access, inclusion, and the limitless ways we can express who we are.
My journey as an artist is far from finished. I’m still exploring. Still evolving.
But I know one thing for certain: every layer of paint I lay down carries my story. A story of navigating a world that wasn’t built for me—and building a space where I, and others like me, can create boldly, freely, and without limits.
And to me, that’s the true masterpiece.
