What is an artist?
A quick web search defines an artist as an individual who engages in the creation and expression of art, using skill and imagination to produce work in many different mediums—painting, sculpture, music, drawing, writing, or performance. Artists convey ideas, emotions, and personal, cultural, or historical experiences through their work.
For me, that definition includes everybody.
We express our thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and experiences through what we do in our everyday lives. We may not always have a pencil or a paintbrush in hand, but living your life is the biggest canvas there is. However you shape your life—through your choices, relationships, and creativity—that, to me, is a form of art.
I say this because for the longest time, and even today, I’ve been shy about calling myself an artist. Which is, admittedly, a contradiction. I find it easy to encourage others and tell them they are artists in their own right, yet much harder to embrace that title for myself. We are often our own harshest critics. This is the journey I continue to walk—one where I now dare to call myself an artist.
Growing up, art wasn’t something I gave much thought to. My school art projects weren’t spectacular; they were simply another subject to get through. I remember enjoying them, but my mind was often focused on recess—on playing with friends and just being kids. In class, there was always a sense of being graded, of needing to perform, even in something that was meant to be creative.
It wasn’t until a childhood friend of mine—already an artist at a young age—that my appreciation for art truly deepened. Through her and her artist friends, I learned how to use watercolor more intentionally and how small techniques could dramatically change the outcome of a piece. I owe a great deal to her for opening the door to exploration and for helping me enjoy using the more intuitive, creative side of my brain.
Around the same time, my older brother’s friend—whom I’ve always called kuya (a Filipino term of respect for an older brother)—gifted me my first professional-grade colored pencil set. He has an artistic side himself, and I’ve always admired his creativity. Together with his girlfriend at the time (now his wife), they were incredibly supportive of creative pursuits, often in quiet but meaningful ways. That first professional set was from a brand I still reach for today—not out of loyalty, but because it became familiar in my hands, and familiarity builds confidence over time.
I hadn’t thought much about those moments in recent years, nor had I fully articulated their impact until now. But I’m deeply grateful for those early experiences—for the encouragement, the tools, and the belief that creativity was worth nurturing. They helped set me on the path I find myself on today.
So I want to pause here and offer my thanks:
Cristine Tulay, Randy de Torres, and Solly Gruta de Torres.
There have been many others along the way who have offered support and encouragement, and words alone can’t fully express the gratitude I carry. I try to live my life by paying it forward, and I hope—in some small way—that I’ve been able to encourage others in their own creative journeys.
Today, my work lives not only on paper, but on everyday objects—journals, prints, and pieces meant to be held, used, and lived with. This is my way of honoring the idea that art belongs in daily life. And if my journey encourages even one person to pick up a pencil, try something new, or see themselves as creative, then it has already served its purpose.
0 comments