Joyce Auteri

Art Through the Eyes of the Soul

The long-ish (but oh, so worth it!) story:

Hello, everyone! I'm so happy to be here. This is where I was meant to be. My joy. My journey has led me to this place, a place where I can share with you what I've learned with the desire that you will be inspired.

I'm going to share with you how I came to be here...here, with my art. I'm going to share with you my story because I believe that it will inspire you to one day share your story with me and one day – if you haven't already – you will live the life of your dreams just because you know who YOU are. You know thyself.

Okay, so what do I mean by all that?

It started with crayons...Art by Joyce Auteri, Folsom ArtistWell, allow me to share with you how I got here in the first place. It started with crayons.

'I could sit you on the floor with a box of crayons and some scrap paper, in the corner of the kitchen while I cooked and cleaned, and you'd be happy for hours.'

That's what my Mom often told me. Bless her soul. I lost her on February 15, 2011. It was my Mom who encouraged my art. She saw it in me, as Moms do, I guess.

Now don't get me wrong. Being on the floor wasn't punishment. I loved being on the floor – it was my thing. I guess because I've always been shorter so the floor was closer than the table would be - unless I sat on a carefully placed phone book or two on top of the chair seat. Crayons lead to pencil...Art by Joyce Auteri, Folsom ArtistBut sometimes the phone books would slip and so would I. The floor was just easier. I'm joking, of course.

Anyway, the crayons led to pencil and that led to sending in the drawing of Emmet the Clown and Tippy the Turtle to match the one on the inside of Mom's matchbooks. They were ads for Art Instruction Schools. Remember those? Well, I can't tell you how many 'Emmets' and 'Tippys' I drew and sent them in. I never heard back. It kinda made me sad but even at that young age I figured it was some kind of conspiracy to hold my Emmets and Tippys hostage and any day I'd get a call asking for ransom money. Mind you, these were pre-days of making crank phone calls from the phone booth at the drug store around the corner screaming into the phone “Do you have Prince Albert in a can? Well, better let him out before he suffocates!” Oh, how the creative mind works.

Anyway, I digress...

When I was old enough to not believe that their were