It’s an idea that has stayed with me, even while my life and career moved in other directions. I’ve watched my work travel much farther than I could have ever imagined, to nearly every part of the world - in ways that were wonderful, and in ways that were extraordinarily painful. Up until recently, I was convinced I was done creating this art. I thought making more would only cause more problems for me, but the idea of moving on from it without accomplishing my goal of making a children’s book continued to eat at me.

So, I’ve created two books and am independently publishing both: Count In Full Color and Find In Full Color.

Meet the Books

I styled and photographed every subject, selected every image, wrote every prompt, developed every activity, and designed every page myself. I am also overseeing the printing, managing the finances, coordinating the freight and fulfillment, building the wholesale program, packing every order, and trying to figure out how to tell as many people as possible that these books exist. Everything.

This has become the largest and most personal project I have ever taken on. It also feels like the project I have spent my life working on.

A little more than a year ago, I reached out to publishers to talk about making books with my art and was met with the same response from all: book sales are low and, to summarize, my images are vibrant and require a lot of ink to print. Ink is expensive and publishers are apparently moving away from publishing large numbers of books with full color pages. I even found out without warning that my first book, Feast Your Eyes, was discontinued and no longer being printed. Alongside trying to fight widespread copyright infringement, it was the cherry on top of what felt like the defeat of my art.

I want nothing more than to have my name connected to my own work.

For years, I have seen my photographs circulate online without my name attached to them. I have seen them altered, covered with logos, used to sell products, and shared on a scale that has become tough to fully describe. It’s something I still deal with every day.

When I see a new altered version of one of my photos, I save it in a folder. That folder currently has nearly 20,000 screenshots in it. It makes me wonder how much a folder on a computer can hold. To be honest, I don’t want to find out.

That felt like a lot until my Meta Rights Manager flooded with hundreds of thousands of infringements of my art last year and I continued to sink lower mentally. More recently, I have encountered an endless supply of AI generated images that have been very clearly derived from my work.

All of this continued to chip away at me until looking at my own art became deeply painful. Going to grocery stores felt nearly impossible. I became surrounded by dozens of brands that used my art for profit, without permission, by turning them into ads. I’ve never used the word “triggered” so much.

Images I once felt proud of suddenly reminded me of everything that had been taken from them, and from me.

It wasn’t until early this summer that I began to feel stronger and like I could talk about all of this without crying. My difficult childhood molded me into a notoriously strong person, but all of this completely broke me. There were many times over the past two years that I would look in the mirror and literally not recognize myself. I had seen that in movies, but never personally experienced it. It’s very dark and surreal. I lost track of who I was and would just stare back into the mirror.

A year ago, I began to try and break away from my newly reclusive ways despite the anxiety that formed about meeting people in my new home of New York. Suddenly, I feared having to answer the inevitable question of “what do you do?” because I was unsure of how to answer it. Growing up without my parents and in a low-income household taught me how to deflect conversations away from myself. Anything to not have friends ask me where I lived. I have never been a fan of having the spotlight on my personal life, but this experience has taught me to attempt to move past that and be more open to talking about who I am and my experiences.

My art is so much more than just a vibrant photograph. Feeling like I was done making art exposed so many open wounds that I had yet to talk about. Again, I am good at talking about anything other than myself.

Eventually, while in line to buy eggs at the farmers market, that impending question of “what do you do?” happened from a stranger behind me in line. I’m an outgoing person and joke that I can have a conversation with anyone, even a rock, but this was one of the most awkward moments I can remember in recent memory. Luckily, the person, who is now my friend, was calm and kind and invited my partner and me over for dinner. Moments like this continued to help me slowly find a way to coexist with the constant copyright infringement as I began to get back in the saddle.

I found a high-end European office furniture company that cut the pages out of my first book and turned them into advertisements pinned to their products. 27 of my photographs were used in 270 different ways. They even included the dedication page I wrote to my grandparents. I paid to have a European lawyer contact them, but they figured out a way to get out of it, and I was left to pay the legal fees. The images continue to be used by them.

I mention this case specifically because it pushed me over the edge and was a deep reminder that I needed to make these children’s books. My book that was now out of print was chopped up and being profited from. I was done hoping a publisher would think my art was “worth” another book. I wanted to be in control of if my book could be printed, or not.

I began by going back through my photographs, revisiting all the images no one else had ever seen. I have so many pieces that I create and never do anything with. It’s kind of like when you read the same word too many times and it suddenly doesn’t look like a real word anymore. Sometimes I spend so long on a piece that eventually it doesn’t look like a good idea anymore.

Over the course of a few months, I eventually became excited to see my art again. I felt a shift deep inside me and for the first time in years, I felt strong and motivated. I felt ready to get back on that horse and ride.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t looking at the photographs as evidence. I was looking at them to accomplish my goal of making a children’s book.

The photographs became mine again. Not because the legal issues disappeared, they haven’t, but because I was giving the work a new purpose that nobody else had chosen for it.

Preorder the Books

The photographs in these books were taken during many different periods of my life. Until I began assembling them, I didn’t realize how naturally they would come together.

It felt as though they had been waiting for this purpose.

When I was four years old, I was hospitalized with severe asthma. Once I was sent home, I needed nightly oxygen treatments for about a year. When you’re that young, remaining calm with an oxygen mask on is difficult, to say the least. I have vivid memories of crying and trying to take it off. I can still taste the oxygen if I try hard enough. To distract me, my grandmother would ask me to find and point to colors in different books. I couldn’t speak with the mask on, so pointing became my nightly language.

The relationship between images, concentration, curiosity, and comfort stayed with me. Long before I understood anything about photography or visual communication, pictures were helping me stay calm and focused. I have thought about that experience often while making these books, mentally putting myself back onto that floral printed couch with the oxygen machine sitting next to me.

I would never suggest that a book can treat a medical condition, but I know personally that images can give children somewhere to direct their attention. They can create connection. They can begin conversations. They can make an uncomfortable moment feel better.

Growing up, my books were often my escape during turbulent times. I carried them everywhere alongside my arts and crafts supplies. I could easily go to a happy place and avoid the chaos I grew up in. I hope these new books can be a fun place for all children to explore, especially those deeply in need of one like I was.

I decided to create two books because I wanted them to be for children at different points in their development.

Count In Full Color is a board book created for children from birth through approximately age three. It introduces the numbers one through ten using my photographs of fruits and vegetables that get more colorful as the pages turn. It’s designed to be held, pointed at, counted through, and read repeatedly. Alongside the counting are opportunities to notice colors, shapes, positions, and differences.

Find In Full Color is a 32-page hardcover search-and-find book for children around age four and older. It turns my more elaborate photographs into visual searches and open-ended activities. Some questions have one definite answer, others have many. I hope to help children build conversations around the images and food. I wanted to create a book that I wish I had as a child.

I wanted to leave room for children to think differently from one another. The books are not tests, and they are not about finding the “right” way to see an image. They are invitations to look more closely.

Going off my own childhood experiences and spending time in stores looking at children’s books recently, I realized they overwhelmingly rely on illustration. This can be beautiful, but I wanted to make something different and something that doesn’t seem to exist yet.

Living in a low-income household, I spent my childhood with a very limited set of ingredients and little knowledge. Because of that, I want to showcase as much as possible for every child. Everyone deserves to know that a tomato can be purple, and that carrots aren’t only orange.

Since I was creating something for children, I felt an enormous responsibility to get it right. I shared digital copies of the books with children, teachers, early childhood professionals, therapists, and a librarian.

This process taught me that children do not all move through a page in the same way. Some will count everything. Some will memorize where each object is. Some will study the smallest detail. Some will invent stories that have nothing to do with the question I wrote.

I love that and it’s part of why I wrote open-ended questions.

I want these books to make space for different kinds of attention.

I’ve learned that with independent publishing, the book itself is only the beginning.

I had to determine the trim sizes, formats, page counts, binding methods, paper weights, finishes, endpapers, cover materials, corner shapes, and color specifications. I had to learn the practical differences between producing a board book and a casebound hardcover. I researched overseas and domestic printing, requested quotes, compared timelines, asked endless questions, and tried to understand which compromises I was and was not willing to make.

I chose printers that will print and bind both books in the United States. The cost is higher, but producing them domestically avoids the month long overseas journey I had originally been quoted.

Every technical decision affects something else. A paper choice changes the way the color reproduces. A binding method changes how a spread opens. A page count changes the construction of the book.

I dealt with bleed, trim marks, barcodes, ISBNs, color profiles, cover wraps, spine measurements, and proofs. I made sure they were created with high-quality materials by a company that large publishing houses also use.

This has been a huge financial commitment for one person and one small business. The printing must be paid for before the books are sold. Then, the books need to be transported, received, stored, marketed, packed, and shipped.

There is no large publishing company financing the production. There is no separate design department, PR department, or sales department. There is only me trying to think several months ahead while solving whatever needs to be solved today.

After spending years watching my work circulate beyond my control, ownership of the process became essential to the meaning of this project. I wanted to choose the paper. I wanted to decide how the photographs were reproduced. I wanted to determine how children were spoken to and respected. I wanted to know where the books were being made.

Control does not make the process easier. It means that every decision and every risk belongs to me.

But it also means that the finished books will reflect my intentions. They have been created with every drop of my love and are so special to me. And, if I do say so myself, they’re very cool.

I also wanted these books to reach children whose families may not be able to buy them because I know what that’s like.

So, I created a “Gift a Book” option that allows someone to purchase a copy specifically as a gift. These books will be sent to children through hospitals and organizations serving children and families.

That part of the project returns me to the reason the books matter so much personally.

When I imagine a gifted copy reaching a child in a hospital, I think about me as a little girl beneath an oxygen mask being asked to find something blue, or orange, or yellow.

I will work hard to make sure every gifted copy ends up in a place where a child in need is able to have it as a safe space.

The response since I announced the books last week has been incredible. These books feel like a new chapter in my life and what I’m meant to do.

Every preorder represents more than a sale. It’s a reminder that I am doing the right thing. It also makes the risk feel possible.

It is difficult to explain what that means after everything it took to reach this point, but this is my attempt.

Thank you from the bottom, top, and every corner of my heart.

This has all been a deeply healing process. I feel stronger than I ever have in my life.

I am back.

Preorder the Books

As a child, when I was asked where she was, I would respond with a very honest and simple “I don’t know.” I never knew. When I got into my early teen years, I stopped wondering and started to think she was no longer alive. I had found peace with that. I didn’t want to accept that a mother would walk away from a struggling child.

I had just moved to Seattle from San Diego a year earlier. I left a few weeks after I graduated high school with the goal of creating a new life outside of everything I knew.

I was working for Microsoft at one of their retail stores as a technician. If you are unfamiliar, imagine the Genius Bar at an Apple Store. We stood behind a long, wooden desk and took appointments to help with a standard list of PC and Xbox issues. I was taking an appointment for a virus removal on a couple’s laptop. Normally I stood behind the desk, but for this appointment, I walked around to the other side. I stood in between th…

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Nearly 10 years ago, someone turned two of my photos into ‘memes’ without my permission.

I’ve lost count of how many major news stations have written about, or filmed on-air about this ‘trend’ of people asking which banana or toast they like, further spreading the issue. Never with my name. Never with permission. They always give the image’s credit to social media accounts that solely post memes, aka copyright infringement cesspools. The thing about it though, is that news media has impressively strong protections from most copyright law. I continue to be in awe in the worst way. My best bet is to get them removed… and then that’s it. Never an offer for a story about my art, with my name. At the very least, I want to feel like my art and story are worth as much as asking people how ripe they like their banana.

Theres’s never consideration that it’s art that someone took time to make. It’s exhausting to have the subject I chose for my art be belittled over and over- banana, toast, coffee, etc.

My dreams of seeing my art in a museum printed larger than life have never felt further away.

I have been doing my best to completely rid of these memes from the earth to keep them from spreading. It feels impossible. It takes SO much time. I’m constantly having to prove these photos are mine. Luckily, I always take behind the scenes photos of every piece I create. For every 10 I remove, 100 more appear.

I gained access to Meta’s Rights Manager early this year which helped pull in hundreds of thousands of them I could have removed. To say I felt relieved about this for the first time is an understatement. I could finally begin to solve this problem. I could finally track all of my photos. I began reporting them for removal but soon stopped.

Here are some examples of emails that I’ve been receiving. Hundreds turned into thousands. I don’t even know how to begin. My time is already absorbed into other copyright infringement issues that has nothing do to with this. I’ve been putting these emails into a folder and try to stay focused on what the point of all of this is. But, I want you to see because I hope that by speaking up, change can be made. I don’t want anyone else to go through this. I hope it can help continue a conversation about image use and how art is treated.

My images are heavily profited from by others on social media every day. Somehow people are able to blast the same image and caption to 100+ spam accounts at one time. They all show up on my Rights Manager at once. It’s unreal. These posts always include a link in the comments that leads you to a page filled with ads and my image in the middle. The ads make them money.

The monetization programs currently in place have created a toxic culture of copyright infringement and carelessness about where an image is from. I feel that a lack of education about image use is a big reason why. It’s like giving someone endless candy but not teaching them how to brush their teeth. I only learned about how many people are using my images as an engagement reaching tool once all of these of emails began flooding in. Occasional apologies are sprinkled in. Nowhere does their report I fill out mention a “copyright strike.” The entitlement and ownership of my images claimed by others is not okay.

We should all feel safe when protecting our art.

I am being told that I am ruining people’s livelihoods after reporting one of my photos, but fail to mention all of the other reports they have against them. And how mine was what pushed it over the edge. Choosing to put the weight of the blame on me. Some of the accounts use my work in excess, 20+ times but remain standing. My only intention has always been simple, have my photo removed.

I mention all of this because there is clearly a hierarchy system in place, one that is failed to be mentioned when attempting to remove your own art. In turn, I can also say that this has ruined my livelihood. The lack of requesting permission and paying for a license adds to the reasoning behind why I have no option but to switch career paths.

This could easily be prevented if social media should had the ability to control the images you own and block duplicates from spreading.

It is truly a nightmare having so many pieces of your art go viral over and over again without your name attached. I am trying so hard to get it connected back to my name.

This is all such a mess and just a tiny area of my bigger problem.

This could happen to anyone.

I’ve moved a little deeper into the trees on enough land to finally move forward with my original life plan- to farm. The extended version of that plan was to create art with what I grew. I’ve chosen to not put much weight on that. Spending my days in the dirt has already become healing and allowed me the time to think.

I have been overflowing with thoughts about how complicated and intertwined this whole situation has gotten. Somehow I still feel like I’ve barely started because of how much is left. It’s mentally suffocating and lonely. I could go on about how my mental health deteriorated, but I would rather explain that I’m working on combating the trauma through nature.

It hasn’t been until very recently that I finally allowed myself the time to accept and feel less ashamed about the fact that I grew up poor. I’ve spent all of my life attempting to hide from the fact that I grew up on welfare. I can still feel the embarrassment that would sink me at lunchtime seeing my name listed for the free lunch. All of the county building visits. So many legal documents about me and where I would be living. I worked hard to keep questions about my personal life to a minimum in an effort to avoid the dreaded “where do you live?” or “where are your parents?” My quick wit and rapid fire jokes have been a deflection tool for as long as I can remember. I would rather walk miles out of the way than to ever let anyone find out I lived in the cheapest apartments in town.

The large majority of food options were out of reach to me growing up. When I moved away at 18, teaching myself how to cook completely changed my world. Learning about all of these new ingredients, especially fresh food, blew my mind. My passion for food took over and became my life’s focus. I wanted to help others feel like food was approachable. I wanted people to also know that carrots can be purple. I know what it’s like to grow up without these things and I wanted to help be the reason others knew too, no matter your living situation. I wanted to show people what food can look like.

As I process the last 10 years, I feel like my choice to keep my personal life separate from this space has been a part of what has continued to keep me broke.

One of the hardest things for me to accept lately has been hearing from people explaining that they never ordered prints from me because they thought I was making a lot of money off my art. I have been in debt my entire career because of prop costs and rent. The subject in many of my pieces was chosen based off what was on sale that day. I always felt like sharing my financial struggles would lessen the interest and respect.

I feel like I created a world too beautiful to be profitable because of the assumptions brought along with it. I had no idea.

Also because companies would rather steal versus hire me. I’ve joked my entire career that it’s hard to be a starving artist when you’re a food photographer. You can only be broke. The joke isn’t funny anymore.

It has been tough for me to grasp and understand the consistent financial lows throughout my time making art. If I knew people didn’t like it, then I’m sure that would give me some relief because I’d have an answer for the failure. The reassurance from those that love my art has kept me afloat and confident that bright colors would eventually shine into my personal world too.

Taking the time to locate my art has been life changing.

I was thinking about the only photography agency I reached out to years back, and how they denied me with the reasoning of my art not being “commercial enough.” Meanwhile it has been used by, what feels like, every company on earth without my permission.

It’s so easy for companies to steal my art, but when confronted about it they lie every possible way they can. I’m tired of trying to make money off of something the majority of people only want for free and with my name removed.

Along with businesses, I found out that people actively follow my accounts only to repost the same thing soon after me, removing my name as if it was their original photo.

People are sharing my images acting like it was their farmer’s market haul, their dozen eggs, the flowers they picked, their vacation, their store’s produce. Is this catfishing? I really have seen it all.

This has also been the first time in my career that I have ever received any kind of hate. Having my art removed from places where it was shared without permission has filled my inbox with so many deeply hateful words. It gets you confused and questioning what the point of all this even is. I have been told my art is not my own more times than I can count. None of it makes sense.

I had no idea how many businesses were using my art, almost entirely, to market their brand.

I feel taken advantage of. I feel like my art has been endlessly disrespected.

I’ve been unsure about how to share about this situation I’m dealing with. Do I share updates? Do I stay silent? The impending unsolicited advice is suffocating and keeps me from pushing publish. I am tired of people assuming that I’m not doing anything about this when it is literally the only thing I am doing.

I’m tired of people telling me that “this is what you get when you share art online.” There should be more protections, education and laws in place. This could happen to ANYONE. A way to block duplicate images from spreading on social media platforms, easy resources to contact for support, more knowledge around what copyright infringement actually is and how serious of a crime it is. Reverse image search engines that actually work! For years I thought the theft of my art was on a small level because of how little search engines bring up. All of the search engines I use now bring up different links from each other.

I’m trying to hang onto the small amount of this I can control. Anything I have yet to do is only because I cannot afford it. Legal fees are really, really expensive.

I have always worked as hard I as I could to keep up with the copyright infringement, but I have become convinced that it’s impossible and a better fit for a team of 10. I obviously cannot even afford for 1 person to do it. More show up in the hundreds everyday, sometimes thousands. I promise that I am doing everything I can with the resources I have access to, but they keep falling short. It’s time consuming trying to keep up with every image I’ve ever created. They are all being used.

I don’t know what Wright Kitchen will look like in the future. I worry for the world of art and the respect for art and artists. To add to my already massive problem, there are now direct AI copies of my work and they are becoming extremely widespread, only further removing my name from my art.

It’s all so frustrating and heart breaking. So, I go pull some weeds or plant a tree.

In this period of change, I have decided to step away from printing my work as much. It has admittedly become tough for me to look at my own art. Each piece has become a reminder of something negative. I know that this will subside with time, I hope to feel that spark I once did.

My product shop was created after all of my jobs canceled in early 2020 and never came back. I’ve had 3 commissioned jobs since then. After all of the pivoting, I am left with very little option for continuing.

I’ve put last pieces of my product shop up for sale in an effort to move forward from this chapter. They are at wrightkitchen.com.

It has been so hard to get my story out. If I’m going to take this step back, I would like to know at least a piece of it was shared. There is so much more to it.

Thank you for your patience and support as I figure out the road ahead.

Thank you for supporting my art.

Brittany

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I can remember the exact moment that I found out my art was being stolen and used by businesses for their profit. I was a few months in to working a job in recruiting at a video game company based in Seattle. I scheduled every interview and helped greet the interviewees by riding in on a Razor scooter, cracking a joke as an attempt to break their nerves. At the time, I was spending every extra dollar I had on ingredients to photograph and cook. I was practically broke, but surviving and making art I was proud of. The thing is- 11 years later and the reality is similar, minus the video game company and scooter.

Every once in a while I will feel a very strong urge to do something, or in some moments, avoid something- a gut instinct. I was at my desk about to begin a break and the idea to reverse image search some of my photos popped into my head for the first time. Wright Kitchen was a year old and a hobby, but I could feel the growth potential. So, I searched.

It was everywhere.

My name was nowhere.

I’ve tried to explain how I felt in that moment, and every single time I reverse image search my art. It’s impressively tough to put into words. I’ve never used a weighted blanket before, but I imagine it would feel like that. Except if the blanket was a huge mistake of a purchase and made you feel extremely claustrophobic and every negative feeling started to spin in your head at once. Like you want to get up and run, but lay on the ground crying at the same time.

For 11 years I have watched my work be used by others and treated as their own. I cannot express how tired I am of it. Hundreds of thousands of times. Maybe millions at this point. It’s everywhere.

It would be easier to hone in on one image, or one style of business that uses it most. But, every photo I’ve created has been stolen and by every style of business you can imagine. I find photos I completely forgot I took.

My Banana and Toast Gradient photos are the ones that get stolen the most to my knowledge. They haven’t been turned into memes exactly, but something close that grabs attention in hopes of gaining followers and comments from what I can see.

A newer change has been with Instagram Reels, YouTube and Tiktok, posting the image as a video because more and longer views means more money for the “content creator.”

My photos are on virus-ridden websites, so I can’t even see them. They are on so many porn websites, it’s amazing how many ways a banana can be used as clickbait.

In attempts to have my photos pulled down, there have been times where I was asked to send in the raw images, metadata and any behind the scenes photos I had as proof because I wasn’t believed when I said the photo was mine. It’s rare for me to see the original photo shared without numbers and an urgent questioning of how ripe you like your banana.

It breaks my heart that I cannot look at either of those photos without imagining the numbers added to them.

All of this created a fear of sharing my art and it took years to eventually move forward. I had a hard time creating art for years, and it wasn’t until last year that my spark began to grow back. Every image I post is stolen in some form daily, but I tell myself the art is worth the heartbreak. The effect of this grinds at me though, a lot. I try not to think about it, but I often get caught in a mental tunnel featuring an emotionally sinking montage-esque reel of the thousands of links to go through. The kind where you freeze and zone out into nothing and have to snap out of it.

I have a hope that people can realize that if this keeps happening, the quality of art put out will suffer, or the artists will start to close up shop for good. We make art because we are passionate, emotional people. I love food so much that making art with it to celebrate the beauty is an essential need for me. I will always stand up and fight for my art, but all of this really chips away at the spirit.

It stings extra to see creative agencies, artists, stylists or even small business focused companies using my work to promote theirs. I have seen it tons of times and it’s shocking each time.

I tried long ago to take this whole mess as a compliment, or a sign that my art was loved by the masses. That’s tough when most have no idea where it originated, or even think to wonder who made it. I have lost count how many times I’ve shown people my work and they explode “I HAVE SEEN THIS TOAST PHOTO BEFORE SOMEWHERE!”

One of my biggest fears is that my art will see its greatest successes when I am long gone, and others will continue to be the ones to profit greatly.

I do not only focus my successes around their financial gain. But, if there is no income, there is no art. My joke about how I’m unable to be a starving artist because I’m a food photographer, only broke, feels a little too real sometimes.

For the first time in years, I took a lot of time to really dig deep and see what has become of my art online. This requires strong mental preparation and accepting that my next few days may be completely ruined depending on what I see. I am a very positive person, but a dark cloud looms over every thing for me after, no matter how many times I’ve seen it.

It is worse than it’s ever been. Hundreds of my pieces of art are being used in, what I’m convinced to be, every country. I have learned about countries I didn’t know existed. Some of the versions of my photos I’ve found look like they’ve been sitting out in the sun for a few years.

There are so many companies using my work to advertise their products and services, or using it to gain traffic and followers. I recently went through thousands and thousands and thousands of infringements. Many I can likely do nothing about based on their location and lack of jurisdiction. All while having a few hundred dollars in my bank account.

I don’t know how my situation compares to others’ but I know that it is severe and completely out of control, even if you kept your eye on it everyday. I used to check weekly but I have had to pull the reins back over the years for my mental health because it could be a full-time job.

It’s been an interesting moment in life lately that I assume I will remember forever. Erin and I have made Wright Kitchen the best it’s ever been. We work hard everyday and are immensely proud. But, the end of Summer through the beginning of Fall is the hardest time for small businesses. There’s a weird irony having the lowest sales of the year alongside watching my work get ripped apart and chopped into something almost unrecognizable to fit a brand’s aesthetic with their logo added. It really hurts.

Hard to not go for the ol “if I had a dollar for every time…” I would literally be a millionaire.

My hope is that a conversation will continue and grow about image use. I am happy to be the example if it helps make change and awareness. Especially since I have, what feels like, endless examples. I haven’t written this deeply about it in years but I am ready to speak because this story is not told enough. Especially since there appears to be no stopping.

Thank you to everyone that has actually supported my art by buying it.

Thank you to the companies that have actually hired me by paying me for it.

Thank you to everyone that has asked permission.

I want to create forever.

I just want my name with it.