At 16, My Father Tore Up My Art School Letter and Threw Me Out. Twelve Years Later, I Was the CEO Holding His Mortgage.

I boarded a plane to Providence with four thousand dollars, two suitcases, a backpack full of art supplies, and a burning determination to prove that I could make it work.

And I did.

Not easily. Not quickly. But I did.

I worked in the university library. I took commissions painting pet portraits and custom pieces for local businesses. I learned to survive continue reading …