This journey began when I was a 19-year-old art student working little jobs and babysitting for a family friend to make ends meet.  I'd put her son to bed and note she never left the house.  I'd notice she'd go into the basement for hours and that naturally piqued my curiosity. Today I can still remember her sitting in the dark, by the light of a flame, working with tools foreign to me. Moved by my interest, she invited me to sit beside her and patiently taught me a new drawing technique. She explained that this skill is typically passed down from mother to daughter in Slavic cultures. It was harder than she made it look, but she assured me that what mattered more was doing it, practicing, and passing it on. I knew immediately the batik-process of drawing on eggs would be something I'd dedicate my life's work to. 

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        In between writing papers and painting still lifes, I'd always make time to work on eggs. In many dorm rooms and apartments, friends and roommates would gather in the spring to learn.  Years later, with encouragement, I decided to teach a workshop to the public and it sold out in minutes. I'd come to learn that during the World Wars, families made their way to the United States, sometimes leaving their loved ones and traditions behind. The next generation was looking for any opportunity to reconnect with their heritage. I had no idea until I started teaching how privileged I was to have been taught such a desired art process as an outsider. 

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     March is a highly anticipated month when I travel up and down the East Coast to intimate spaces, museums, galleries and libraries to pass on this meditative art form.  It's been a tremendous honor to teach and encourage thousands of people through the years (especially for those who arrive in beautiful embroidered heirlooms!). These  carefully hosted and facilitated workshops encourage meaningful conversation around family history and this ancient art.  All participants continue to leave these communal workshops and demonstrations with a deeper understanding of the history, the culture, the art, and themselves. 

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     Pysanky is traditionally associated with spring, a season when ancient peoples celebrated and honored the sun and life force through mystical and magical rites. Today, this timeless art form continues to serve as a symbol of peace and hope in a chaotic world. Pysanky remain sacred objects and benevolent talismans—true weapons of peace—that unite people in the shared pursuit of beauty, hope, and shared humanity. It was through teaching pysanky that I became the art coach I am today.