Without the encouragement of a small group of friends and my community in Italia, I seriously doubt whether I would have had the courage to pursue my artwork. Even though I grew up in a household with a deep appreciation for art and literature, if I had stated that I wanted to study art, my father would have quickly listed a whole host of reasons why such a choice would have been an incredibly horrible idea. Now, more than sixteen years after his passing, I have little doubt that he would have been absolutely fascinated with both my artwork and the path that led me to my art.

A little more than three years ago, shortly after publishing my third book, this one a book of poetry, I had several interesting conversations at the Silver Circle Gallery in Putnam, Connecticut. After having a conversation with one of the artists, Alison, about her artwork, she mentioned that she wanted to introduce me to someone. This someone turned out to be her sister, Liz. Liz and I quickly fell into conversation about her artwork and affinity for Shel Silverstein’s work, which naturally led me to tell her about my recently-published poetry book.

I mentioned to her that I had laid the book out so as to have room for illustrations at some point. After much mental poking and prodding, I finally agreed to show her some of the illustrations that I had been working on. It didn’t take her long for her to tell me that I needed to pursue my artwork. To be honest, I was surprised, but as another Leo she was so insistent that she gave me no choice but to listen. She repeated her exhortation the second time I saw her and her sister when the exhibit closed at the end of the month.

While I kept experimenting with my illustrations, it wasn’t until several months later, during my first trip to Italia, that I began to appreciate the power (and possibilities) of artistic representation. When I first arrived in Italia, I was completely overwhelmed with sensory overload. There was nothing that mapped onto anything that I had experienced before, not only were the signs in a different language, but both the buildings and trees themselves took on completely different forms. No matter how many pictures I took, I couldn’t capture the soulful feeling of the space.

So I began to sketch and the most curious thing happened.

Italians began to approach me and ask questions, “Disegna? Vedo possere?”

”Si.”

”Bravo bravo”

And so it began. Even though my sketches weren’t “good” by any stretch of the imagination (even mine), people took time to look at what I had been working on. Throughout the next three months, I continued to draw, mainly using a combination of ink and colored pencils, and occasionally just pencil. One day, while doing a pencil sketch of “Le Due Cecche” in Pari which I had become particularly frustrated with, my friend Elle mentioned that she could see the love that I was putting into the work. This comment, coupled with questions of “Che fai, disegnare?”, to which I replied “Si”, followed by “Bravo!”, encouraged me to keep exploring.

When I returned back to the states, I thrust myself into my work, both as a way to work through my emotions of missing Italia, and also to showcase the beauty that I had found. Admittedly, my experience with graphic design, and background as an engineer has helped immensely, but having the support of friends, a village, and even what feels like an entire country has helped immensely.