The artist name, Sparrow’s Hand
Sparrow’s Hand is a diversion from my travel name. When I began traveling I related strongly to the sparrow. I felt so tiny in such a big world, so anonymous, never staying in one place. My travels were like a solo pilgrimage to everywhere. Since I didn’t have my own wings and I love the open possibilities of the word “road” I called my journeys or myself “roadsparrow.” It was never my nickname, no one ever called me that name but I guess it was my own little brand. When I hiked the Appalachian Trail everyone gets a hiker name. I so wanted to have my hiker name be something like my brand Roadsparrow. My hiking partner made the remark, “You’re just a Roadster” and my hiker name became Roadster.
“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”
That Bible verse was my comfort as I traveled, when I had no idea where I would be sleeping or what I might find to eat. I kept a very strict budget but I enjoyed the challenge.
Now that I have completed my travels I still see myself in this world as a little sparrow flitting about. Now that my goals are different I wanted a new brand for my new venture of art and massage. My focus now is my hands, their power, wisdom, healing, and the creativity they hold. My brilliant friend recommended Sparrow’s Hand and I love it in all it’s abstractness and possibilities. A little sparrow, using it’s hands to create art? I don’t know.
When my Art Started
I mentioned that I decided to become a draw-er when I was 4. It was when Mom went out one night. In my memory it was the first time that she had ever gone and left us kids with Dad. My brother was just a toddler, barely 2 years old and he would not be consoled. He cried forever and there was nothing Dad could say to calm him. Finally Dad took out a sheet of paper and told my brother he was going to draw him, “You have to sit very still,” he kept saying and he began to draw my crying brother. I stood behind Dad on the couch and watched this amazing drawing. Never in my life had I seen anything so realistic. In my memory it was the exact profile of my brother. Up till then the only art I knew of was in coloring books. It never occurred to me that illustrations I had seen in books had been made by anything. While I was in awe of Dad’s skill another amazing thing happened. My brother stopped crying and was paying attention to his portrait. In that moment my child logic came to the conclusion that drawing made people happy enough to stop crying, art heals. It was a miracle and in that moment I said to myself that I would be a “draw-er” when I grew up. From then on I drew all the time, I stared out the window on car trips to watch and learn how things looked. I studied the lines of cartoons to see how those drawings were made, I traced coloring books or illustrated books. I never forgot that decision I made. I’ve dabbled with ideas of having a”real” job. I’ve thought about becoming a teacher or a nurse but I sort of waited to commit to those ideas and kept drawing. When I was 16 I got accepted into an Arts High School and that place gave me such a belief in myself and the responsibility to pursue our dreams. My art teacher, Karen Monson, said to us, “You have a special opportunity being at this school. You are going out into this world a step ahead of everyone else. You know what you want, you know what you want to be, you’ve had extra time to develop your skill. It is your responsibility to this school and all the others that come after you to pursue your dreams and be an example of not settling for anything less than your biggest desires.” I have to do art because it is what I want more than anything else. I’ve taken breaks, haven’t been as dedicated but the void that occurred eventually sent me back to painting. I think I’ve finally learned my lesson.