My dad taught me to draw. In the beginning it was just doodles and random things. We would go out on nature walks and he would point out animal tracks and different patterns in the bark of trees, the shape of leaves and clouds in the sky that resembled animals. He taught me to create reflections by looking at water and watching the way it rippled outward as it was disturbed. He taught me to find beauty in the most barren of places and to appreciate the things we tend to overlook with an artist’s eye.

We would go home after these adventures and he would pull out a sketch book and show me how to transform the natural world into detailed pictures, and as I grew older, I took the things he taught me and made them my own. He was always telling me that there is no “wrong…