Chalk. In the beginning...

One year for Christmas my parents gave us chalk. Yep chalk and a chalk holder, they even threw in some colored chalk. Now I don't remember any of us having chalkboards and it wasn't sidewalk chalk so I thought to myself, "what am I going to do with this" and then I headed off to my room. While everyone else was taking their Christmas day nap I got to work.

This was a big turning point. It took me from doodling to murals. First I tested a small area with the white chalk to make sure it would come off the wall and to ensure that my father wouldn't kill me. When it did I started by drawing a character I had sketched before. I liked it and I kept going until all of my walls were covered with chalk drawings. It had been a few hours and my mom came in to check on me. I showed her what I'd done she liked it and got my dad to come and look. His first comment as predicted was, "Does it come off ?" When I showed him and he was satisfied with the results it was a green light in my head and I spent the rest of the day turning everything from white to color.

By the end of the day my room was a masterpiece and again my dad asked "Does it come off ?" Unfortunately a few years later, when I was long gone, my parents tried to wash it off the walls because they were moving but it didn't come off. They had to paint over it. Who knew? Can a young budding artist really be blamed for such a crime? If anything it could have upped the resale value of their home.