I've always been drawn to drawing. From my early childhood, I could draw for hours without getting tired of it. An uncle, a graphic designer at the time, gave me his old Pantone markers, already well worn. Despite their eroded tips, I used his markers with the greatest respect. The unique sound of these markers on paper, their alcoholic smell: this was the beginning of my love for arts.

It took me several years to understand (and admit) that I was an artist. That there was nothing I could do about it. For a long time, I held onto imposter syndrome like a frayed stuffed animal. A comfort that kept me warm at night, but that prevented me from exploring the world around me. After a few years working as an interior designer, I changed careers to better reconcile my family and professional life. As an educator for 4-5 year-olds, I rediscovered children's creativity on a daily basis. It's an inexhaustible source of madness, laughter, but above all, learning. I learned to rediscover the artist I had crushed, for fear of not being up to par.

That's why I'm showing my true colors now.