The Accidental Artist

I drew on my tablets in grade school –- pencil and crayons. Kids gathered around to watch. Mostly portraits of athletes and rock stars. Some action shots. I wasn’t an artist, I was a kid drawing.


When my big sister went to college I took sheets of paper down to the basement and colored and drew on them --Jackson Pollack style (no, I didn’t know who he was) -- with the abandoned paint and spray paint cans I found down there. Then I mailed them to her. I wasn’t an artist, I was a middle-schooler making stuff to send to my big sister.


Fast forward to me, a 30-something in a job where I spent a lot of time on the phone. I wore a headset and doodled on note cards. Then one day my secretary brought in a framed collection of my doodles. I still have it. Boredom had become art. I drew dozens of those things. I still have them. Some are in the Black & White section of this website. All the Markers on Paper pieces came from them.  I started taking colored markers and notecards to professional conferences. People stopped by during breaks to see – just like my classmates in grade school.


Fast forward to me, a dad drawing with his kids, sometimes entertaining them in the back of the minivan on road trips, drawing goofy pictures and telling stories. I wasn’t an artist, I was a dad.


Fast forward to me today, drawing and painting and coloring what you see here. Does that mean I’m an artist? People have opinions about what qualifies as art and who qualifies as an artist. Me, I think an artist is somebody who makes art. I once sent out doodles to people who asked for them, with a simple request:  send me a picture after you color it. Nobody did. They weren’t artists – they didn’t make art. If an artist is somebody who makes art, I guess I qualify.