The Art of Introductions
I typically hate introductions. It’s one of the few times my brain oscillates between two terrifying settings. One involves deeply personal or obscure thoughts rising from the depths of my mind, bubbling out uncontrollably; the other is complete emptiness. Cannot remember my middle name or the town I grew up in—empty. It’s not the people, but the stakes of the interaction that feel overwhelming.
Introductions are meant to be a contemporary dance, rhythmic yet raw. But with all the expectations attached, they often morphe into a clumsy shuffle struggling to find the beat. Whether it's a job interview, a first date, or the dreaded 'meet the parents' moment, introductions often leave us sweating bullets in the moment, only to lie awake at night wondering if we should’ve gone with a quirky fun fact, like our thrilling collection of vintage spoons, rather than fumbling for something ‘normal.’
In my quest for social survival, I’ve mastered the art of playing it safe when it comes to introductions. I stick to what I do for a living and the books I adore, just enough to spark conversation without risking a full-on existential crisis. It’s been enough to survive. But just getting by when it comes to the things you can change; like your behavior, vulnerability, or willingness to take risks rarely lands you in the places you need to be, or in front of the people you’re meant to meet. By concealing what truly matters, you may avoid ridicule, but you also lose the opportunity to find those who resonate with your true self. Authenticity, though risky, is where true connection begins.
So, who am I? Besides someone desperately trying to sneak in a Gossip Girl reference, I’m someone who is often deeply unnerved, nearly always terrified, and sometimes completely numb by what I see unfolding in the world around me. At the root of all of these emotions lies the same feeling: helplessness. One of the few truths that helps me get out of bed each morning is that this isn’t the first time society has been no in turmoil. When I look at the common thread that helped those who’ve weathered past storms survive, it’s how well they nurtured themselves and their communities.
The Cheeky Cherub is how I’ll nurture one of the great loves of my life: art. Whether I’m creating it, admiring it, or simply chatting about it, art fuels my curiosity about people and the world we inhabit. I see it as a beautiful by-product of our human struggle to make sense of our surroundings and our inner selves.
For love to be authentic, it must be coupled with accountability. So here’s my promise: regardless of any measure of “success,” I will continue to prioritize this project. Each month, I’ll introduce a theme I’ve been exploring—whether it relates to the world at large or how we engage with each other in our day-to-day lives. In honor of that theme, I’ll write a piece designed to get you thinking, spark your curiosity, and hopefully inspire you. I’ll create a limited edition print that responds to the piece or the theme at large.
If you’d like to explore each theme in greater depth and gain more inspiration, our social content will align with each month. It will feature art-related activities, spotlight working artists, share fun art history facts, and offer inspiration from various mediums.
All of this is how I will nurture something deeply important to me, but for it to truly matter, it must also impact my community. I’ve called New York City my home for several years now. Yes, the concrete jungle where dreams are made, or shattered, depending on the day. But don’t expect to ever hear me call myself a ‘New Yorker.’ My formative years unfolded far from the city’s chaos, in a land where Targets are the size of city blocks and your day is measured in your car’s mileage rather than steps.
The city is a huge source of inspiration, pushing me to think outside the box and reexamine how I navigate the world, though sometimes it feels like it has to humble me first. Living here has expanded my horizons, introducing me to new perspectives and interesting people who challenge and inspire me. I’ve also been introduced to exciting versions of myself I’d never met before or had forgotten existed. Living here has made me a better person, but I haven’t done enough to contribute to the community I’ve benefited from.
While art has always been a constant in my life, I’m acutely aware that for many kids in New York City, it’s a privilege often out of reach. Nearly half of New York City schools reported a lack of funding for the arts last year. Art education is essential for nurturing children's mental health, giving them a crucial outlet for self-expression and emotional processing—because, at times, words can feel more like a weight than a lifeline. This form of healing and expression shouldn’t be a privilege determined by wealth.
While schools fight to preserve their dwindling art programs, the art market for the rich is booming. In 2022, the global art market was valued at $67.8 billion, with the U.S. accounting for nearly half. Care to guess which American city is at the heart of this thriving market? The city that gave rise to icons like Keith Haring and Basquiat, whose names now profit the art world, even as their messages of critique toward inequality are conveniently ignored.
30% of all profits earned by The Cheeky Cherub will go directly to underfunded art education programs in New York City. But this is just the beginning. I’m committed to continually finding ways to raise awareness and make a tangible impact on schools in need. I believe in the transformative power of art, not just for individual growth but for the health and resilience of our communities. The Cheeky Cherub isn’t just a platform for creative expression; it’s a way to create tangible change. With every print sold, with every conversation sparked, we take another step toward ensuring that art is a resource everyone has access to, not just those fortunate enough to afford it.
With a love for art and mischief,
The Cheeky Cherub
