This question occupied my thoughts for the past four years. Life has presented a multitude of barriers that complicate finding the answer.  

This body of work began during a time of my life where I did not think I would ever find the answer. So close to quitting, the thing that almost made me fail, ironically, was the one thing that liberated me. Art. 

During this journey, self-portraits allowed me to communicate more directly with my audience. Over the course of my undergraduate career, I noticed that I felt unable to fully express what I wanted to say through my direct profile. Feeling censored, I began to contemplate different subject matters that could fulfill this. Searching for the one thing that symbolically captured who I am as an artist. Everything I defined myself with is achieved through the use of my hands; my hands became the symbolic self-portrait that I needed. I now felt more comfortable in allowing myself to be vulnerable in what I truly felt and wanted to say.  

At the end of these four years, I ask myself again, what it means to be an artist. Looking at this collection of works, I find my answer. I find that to be an artist is to be myself. I am an artist. My art became therapy, serving as the journal of my life. With every stroke made, I was able to channel the troubles of my life into these works. The charcoal in these pieces all brought inspiration back into me, enabling me to continue my journey to fulfill my answer.