by Rebekah Lowell
Living creatively is an act of bravery. It asks you to look at something differently than your first glance. It asks you to ask questions and look again, to look closer, to look deeper—to see if there is another way to see. Another way to think. Another way to feel.
As a child, I carried a sketchbook around and drew plants from the surrounding fields and gardens, then later, would ID them in my Audubon Society’s Field Guide to North American Wildflowers, and write their names next to their drawings. I spent more time in the woods, and in books, than any other place. I drew the landscape, its flora and fauna, and wrote stories in my head. When I arrived at RiSD years later, I found myself sketching those same stories out, about a girl near the river. The only time I thought I would do anything else other than become an artist and writer was when I considered being a horticulturist. Now I feel like I’ve combined my love of nature with my love of art and the written word, and I get to do the best of everything! (If I had been a horticulturist, I would have painted the plants, too.)