When I was a senior in art school I got engaged. I was 22. Instead of congratulations my professor looked squarely into my eyes and asked, “Will you ever create art again?”

I thought his question was ridiculous. Surely I could be married and live an artists’ life. Turns out maybe he knew something I didn’t.

For the next eleven years I did not make art. Once in awhile I would pick up my sketchbook and locate an object in the house to draw. Maybe a banana or a plant… I couldn’t be bothered to find inspiration. The demands of mothering, working, and being a wife were too great.

Things are different now. I find that I must create. It is essential to who I am and always have been. Life’s responsibilities have not eased. I have. I allow myself permission to make art without guilt. I can no longer deny this part of me.

Instead of bananas and plants I draw birds. And whatever else I happen to feel like.