The Daily Rambling Artist: How I Chose Art over Middle English —  Unraveling My Artistic Education

During my undergraduate years, I pursued a double major, in philosophy and literature. Simultaneously, I immersed myself in photography. Following that, I pursued a master's degree in literature, only to find myself recoiling from the prospect of reading Chaucer again.

As I embarked on these pursuits, the destination was unclear; yet, I was unwaveringly drawn to these classes and curricula. Nothing else held much significance, even though I didn’t know why.

During my time in a literature master's program, a question was posed to us by a teacher: "Why are you seeking this degree?" When the spotlight fell on me, my reply was, "I can't stop reading."

The journey that has brought me to my current self as an artist remains a puzzle, yet its pieces gradually fall into place. Recently, I've been fixated on the question: What defines me as an artist? The answer transcends the medium. My identity as an artist is entwined with the essence of how I live my life—a tapestry woven from the educational choices I made.

My degrees, centered around the consumption of books, erected a creative foundational structure. I recall realizing the constraints of my own life experience as a youngster, prompting me to devour books. Through the lives and philosophies of others, I embarked on an educational journey.

The subtleties, the resonance of my voice, the fervor that infuses my creations—all trace their origins back to that selfish behavior of my college days. I eschewed conventional plans for a pragmatic future, choosing instead to explore Faulkner and decipher why the work of a white man, writing about deep changes of the American South, resonated so deeply within me.

His work was all about change and humanity's responses to it. Despite the vast cultural differences between Faulkner and me, the universal emotions he tugs at in his work surpass those disparities, uniting us across time and space. So, here I am telling tales full of sound and fury . . .