I was born in Baghdad, Iraq during the Persian Gulf War and lived there on and off for 5 years. My parents were in between two countries, studying for their PhDs in Engineering and Physics and so I was going back and forth between England and Iraq.
My parents, although scholarly in their own right, were very creative and wonderful artists. I, however, was not so fortunate. Throughout my adolescence, I couldn't access this deep visceral yearning and grasp my intrinsic ability to draw, but everything changed for me as soon as my mother and father died of cancer. My mother passed away when I was 13 and my father shortly after. While my parents were studying--I should mention in the 70's, they were contacted with radiation. So you might wonder...how is it that this ability to draw surfaced...
After my mother passed away, my father moved my sister and me to Texas, and not but 5 months into our newly founded residence, my father found out he had latent colon cancer. After he had his surgery, I cared for him. He was on a myriad of medications and so he had odd sleeping hours and during this time, I began to draw.
The hours slipped away as I drew throughout the night and early morning, waiting for my father to wake up at the odd serene hours to rush to the bathroom as he couldn't walk anywhere alone. I drew to pass the time, to hide my brokenness between every brushstroke where each tear turned into a mesmeric color painted on canvas. I painted, hoping to turn back time and have my mother and father back in full health but this was the impossible and alas paining allowed me to find beauty in life even in the hours of the abyss. Painting is my peace.
I have been drawing since my teenage years and with every sketch, stroke and dabble, I grow not only in my skill, but mentally and emotionally. Drawing has been a wonderful release and so with this I can say, "thank you" to my wonderful parents for gracing me with their presence, however brief, and blessing me with a wonderful talent.