Max’s Story

In his own words…

Growing up dyslexic, I always questioned why I continuously fell further and further behind my classmates and why reading and spelling seemed to take me so long. Watercolors and sketching became my refuge and a way to share an idea without someone telling me I misspelled it. I had always dreamed of creating and sharing stories, and my sketchbook and camera became a way I could do that. 

I also looked up to my Grandmother 'Lu', a painter who traveled worldwide with a little pallet and sketchbook. She would sketch everywhere she went, Norway, France, Indiana, Cape Cod, Antarctica, the Galapagos. As a little kid, I remember flipping through these sketchbooks for hours and soaking up these unforgettable watercolor impressions that brought these places to life. Not just the big scenes, but the little things only an artist would notice and add, like the spiral of a hermit crab or pages and pages of seal studies with the occasional mermaid. 

Sure, I liked the masters like Leonardo Davinci well enough, but I knew my Grandmother's sketches were my favorite paintings in the world from a really young age. Now, as a father, I imagine how one day my own son and maybe one day his own children will flip through the pages of my sketchbooks, or watch my films. The world will have changed quite a bit, but through watercolor and videography, the story of the places will live on for them.

My Grandmother had pretty severe dementia toward the end of her life, and I have been taking a ton of solace in her sketchbooks. Now that I know how lines and washes go down, I feel like we share this whole language. I wish I could go back and sketch and ask her a million questions, but flipping through her sketchbooks is the next best thing. The lines and crosshatches don't make words, but they speak volumes. (Read more on Art Toolkit)