Born September 7, 2000. Named Samantha Anne Croll. About a quarter Filipino, 75% a plethora of white and native american. I’m from a household of 5 and I’m the eldest of three girls who all look very different, but at the same time are tied together with similar features. My oldest sister, who is about two years younger than me, is a lot darker than me so we exaggerate and say we’re half white and filipino to clear any questions about why we’re two completely different colors because yes, we came from the same parents and no, my mom didn’t have an affair. People would bring it up all the time and it made us, especially her, incredibly uncomfortable when people would assume she’s some bastard child.
She’s not the only family member of mine who looks completely different from me. I have three cousins whom are half black, three other cousins who are half mexican, a small asian grandmother, and a ton of cousins who are both full asian or white. If you look at family photos, you’d probably never guess we were all blood related and most don’t. Being exposed to all of their different cultures though has definitely shaped me. Not just all the different traditions, holidays, and celebrations, but their different morals, religions, and upbringings. I’m incredibly close with the majority of my cousins, a lot of us are really good friends rather than just family and when we all come together it’s really... interesting, to say the least. Another thing i feel makes up my identity a lot is my religious status. In my house, religion was vague and talk of God was rare but my mom was raised catholic and she bought me my first Bible when I was 5. It was a children’s bible with short verses and lots of pictures but it made me so interested in God, I believed in him so much and i prayed all the time. Later, when i was 8, one of my aunts took me to church for the first time. It was a small christian church and i was so excited, i got all dressed up like i’d seen the kids at the catholic church down the street dressed, but when i arrived everyone else was dressed in super casual clothes and instead of any bible study or anything, the kids were let to play while we waited for our parents. The next sunday my Aunt took me to a different Christian church where we spent learning bible verses and praying and such. I spent the next 3 years at this church before i began to grow a more cynical view on the world and i lost my faith. I’m now very Atheist with little hope for a God. That could also be a big part of my identity; I’m not an optimistic child anymore but i wouldn’t say i’m very pessimistic either. I’d call myself a realist and realistically to me, an ominent man in the sky that created and controls the whole world doesn't seem too plausible. And even if it were what kind of being would be twisted enough to create and allow the atrocities that take place daily? Anyways, but my “realistic” view on life tends to lead me not to sugar coat things. I say it how it is because watering it down isn’t going to help anyone. This ideology was probably instilled in me also by my family, an abrasive and brash crowd who unapologetically say what’s on their mind. It’s not the nicest way to do things but it’s probably one of the best because we’re completely honest with ourselves.
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As an artist I attempt to convey ideas and feelings through pictures. There are rare occasions where i will use my personal, complex thoughts and feelings in art in different ways than most. I’m not very good at expressing my feelings in words therefore i will manifest my emotions in my drawings, often with basic symbolism. Sometimes, i know that how i think doesn’t make sense to others so i’ll step back and vicariously think of how i could manipulate things to better convey the thought. Especially when i have a specific audience in mind, this practice is useful because it forces me to think what would make sense to another person and to find creative ways to voice the idea i want to convey. This can be a struggle for me because i’m not exactly “naturally” creative but by thinking in another person’s place it challenges me to grow and expand as a creative artist. My use of color also can greatly impact the idea as well and not every piece has the same color symbolism. Where some paintings yellow derives from a happy, warm idea, it can mean disgust and infection in another. By carefully and creatively placing this colors i can successfully transmit an intended thought.
Since I was very young, drawing was always an inclination of mine. I would always see things and want to replicate it, to keep it, or to have it but in my way. I was constantly doodling although I was never naturally good; I started off with stick figures and a shotty “chibi” style for a long time, but as I grew and I was exposed to more styles and practice, I finally developed my own style. But this style never stays the same, if you look at drawings from a few years ago-or even a few months ago-it’s drastically different than how I would draw today due to learning new ways to do things and better ways to express what i’m trying to convey. This hobby of mine means a lot to me though. I use it to express my thoughts and ideas, how i’m feeling and how i’m going through life as well as for entertainment purposes. In the past few years I've been branching out to new mediums to further express myself through my drawings with anything from charcoal to animation and several things in between. I’m glad I have art to lean on because not everything can be expressed with words. No amount of strung together syllables could be enough for what I have to say, cheesy as it may sound. After years of practice and a lot of fine tuning I've gained enough skill to be able to have a second voice through my drawings.
Unfortunately, I was more reserved throughout my childhood, being excluded and bullied so many times kind of leaves you not wanting to even attempt social interactions with your peers at some point. But at a time when children weren’t absolutely consumed with technology in elementary school there really wasn’t much for me to do. At lunch I would wander around and hide from the dreaded playground anywhere I could until I was finally old enough to take solitary in the one open quiet place; the school library. At my grandparent’s house there was always a plethora of books, mostly my grandfather’s dense chunks of trees, and a few were bright enough and short enough to capture my little fourth grade attention. There I would read all day with my grandma although I wasn’t allowed to take any home where we were short in supply but finally, at school, I was opened up to a new world where I was no longer reading the same edition of Skippy John Jones. From then on it became a hobby of mine that soon completely engulfed my life, shaping the aspiring writer and busy reader I am today. Thankfully this hobby has given me so much opportunity throughout life, beginning with using an extensive vocabulary to my advantage with authority figures to teachers highly recommending me to college level summer programs. All this I attribute to my time spent reading. |