The Artsy Beginnings

I was born here in Portland, Oregon—one of the few Portland natives left. In the early days, my mom would tell you I was loud, independent, and always up to some creative endeavor. After all, I was homeschooled for most of my early years, and I had nothing better to do than make messes in my mom’s house.

From painting volcanoes to impressively accurate salt dough maps to stealing the grown-ups' scrapbooking materials to make my own creations, I was always a menace when it came to artsy messes.

Once I started school, I realized people cared about what art looked like, and I was too scared to enroll in any art classes. It might sound silly, but coming from a family of six kids—where my four older siblings had already made their reputations at the school—I didn’t feel like it was even worth trying. I thought nothing I created could ever compare.

At 18, I moved across the country, away from my family, and ended up getting married in North Carolina to a military boy. At the time, it felt like a way to find stability and safety after feeling completely lost in the world, coming out of my “Christian bubble.” During that marriage, I created very little. Most of my artwork from that time came from the last two years, when I was so depressed and neglected that making art was the only way I felt even a shred like myself.

Unfortunately, most of the pieces I made during that time were thrown out by my ex. Among them was one titled The Lakes, which I created in isolation during the COVID-19 pandemic while on bed rest from an appendectomy—in the middle of a Category 5 hurricane hitting the Florida coast. I built a frame for it and cherished it. It was a place I escaped to in my mind when life felt unbearable. Sadly, it’s now lost.

Once I moved back to Portland and settled into my first apartment on my own, you couldn’t stop me. I painted every day—creating pieces that reflected both the past I was healing from and the life I was building for myself. Creating "bad art" became a painful obsession for my perfectionist self. Unlearning all the rules and restrictions from my church upbringing and private school education is still a work in progress. But I see it in my art—how I’ve been shedding layers and letting my soul shine through.

It’s been pretty cool to see.

Now, here I am. I’ve been back in Portland for about two years, and I’ve created dozens of paintings that you can find in coffee shops and restaurants all over the city. If you had told that kid painting volcanoes that their art would be all over Portland by the time they were 24, they would’ve been shocked they even made it to 24! I’m making tiny me proud, and that makes me really happy. I got the chance to unmask and meet my authentic self, and be curious about the things that I can do.

My hope with my art now is that people can experience the release of perfectionism and feel some queer joy when looking at my work. I want people to see themselves represented in ways I never did as a trans kid. I want people to feel important—because you are!

Thank you for being on this journey with me. I’m just so glad you’re here!

- J