I could never have gotten to that (my most powerful work) without boundaries. There is freedom within the form (of this Sestina)..

"Having a 92 cream puff is cool, but having a 2018 LT 40 wide is a whole nother ballgame".

If I show up, if I go first, if I allow myself to be vulnerable, I allow others to connect to me in that state. I allow them to approach me. And that's how we build connection.

What I realized is that we all want to belong. Even when I'm feeling so vulnerable in my moments, I just drop down and trust that everybody else wants to belong too.

Be the kind of person that makes others believe in what is possible.

I realized I am not my context. I can always leave it on the train. . . . I can leave what I don't want. Everything is a choice. I do not believe there is such a thing as, 'That's just the way I am.'

It's not about making something, it's about being prepared when it does.

If you want to go fast go alone, if you want to go far go together, and we'd like to suggest one more layer to this: if you want to go deep grow together.

Commitment is way more important than talent when it comes to careers.

Imperfection is just commitment's secret weapon.

Success to us meant truly living our art.

Start small, wherever you’re at.

Take a leap and the acrobat will appear. If you dare to swing on that trapeze, on the other side you’ll find that collaborator that will just take you by the hands and pull you toward new playful possibilities.

If you want to go deep, grow together.

You can be committed to something, but you still have to love what you do.

If you're committed, you never know where the opportunity might come from.

When do you act and when do you breath. It's a skill that we need to learn, in order for us to move forward.

Whatever you do, don't commit to disability—commit to disabled people.

When you design for disability, you do focus on accessibility, but designing with disability will incorporate accessibility into a much larger conversation.

What I've realized is that disabled people are the original lifehackers. We would develop an intuitive creativity because we're forced to navigate a world that isn't built for our bodies.

Inclusive design doesn't mean inclusive, not in the way I had intended, meaning a variety of approaches. Inclusive has become a way to talk around disability because nobody wants to say the word disability.

How do you wink at disability? You use your resources to elevate our voices—that's a wink. You work with us to reject the norm—that's a wink. But also you allow us to critique your systems because what I have learned is that when we're finally able to critique the systems that disable us, everybody involved stops seeing our bodies as the problem.

So, how do you wink at disability? I'll first start with what not to do: Don't do anything for us, it's not gonna get anybody anywhere. Don't try and fix us. Don't resort to this inspiration porn cliche.

I believe that disability is actually looking for its cult brand, the one that is going to finally see us and wink at us.

Design for disability is so focused on fixing us that it had the unfortunate effect of turning our needs into our identities. Design for disability assumes we must overcome otherwise we're going to succumb to this terrible thing called disability.

Industrialization created the medical model of disability which states we are disabled by our bodies.I ascribe to the social model which states we are disabled, not by our bodies, but by the world around us.

Disability did not exist before industrialization. You would have a blind person, or someone with cerebral palsy, or someone using a cane living in their community. But they weren't grouped together. They weren't a thing called disability.

It didn't take me long to wonder why my eyeglasses were fashionable when my cane was not. This is how I discovered my passion for design.

This disconnect between the work that disability advocates and scholars are doing to build a culture, and the way that businesses profit off of reinforcing our stigmas, this is what I torture myself trying to reconcile through design every single day.

To improve commitments, to love them more, feel great about them more, you want to love the work and be flexible with the outcome. And the best way to love the work and be flexible with the outcome is to develop connection and develop perspective. And the way towards connection and the way towards perspective was to let my damn imperfect life right into the front door and ask it to walk me up and to the right. Imperfection creates connection and perspective, creates love of work and flexibility of outcome.

I’ve learned that the moment you want to give up is exactly when you shouldn’t.

I became a bad immigrant by becoming civically engaged, by calling out systemic racism, by refusing to work with organizations that had no people of color, by protesting and marching against institutional oppression, by talking about myself and learning to say no.

I think I might always be afraid of commitment but I can say for certain that when I find something worth holding onto, I don’t let go.

Art can be truly functional, and it is essential. Art and music and dance can open minds and hearts and give people hope, foster a sense of community, and I love when it does that.

Every so often it’s a good idea to get out your compass and figure out where you are and remember where you were going. But you have to embrace the meander because the detours are what make your journey unique and what bring you to interesting conclusions.

What changed in me at that point was that I was more receptive to the inconsistencies that an art career had to offer. I was actually pretty energized by the unpredictability. I was more flexible … more confident … and less idealistic from having any deadlines. I was willing to acknowledge that I had to be bad at it before I could get good at it.

So I started really working on illustration. I made opportunities for myself where there weren’t some.

Commitment is all about hitting the bumps in the road, taking unexpected twists and turns, and recalibrating.

I had time and space to dig into my brain and experiences, and I was learning a lot about what was there and what I wanted and what I was truly capable of. I wanted to be an illustrator, damnit!

I felt so relieved to find a fun job, to have clear objectives and constraints. And so I went for years without making any personal work and I was perfectly content … until I wasn’t.

I was always finding little ways to include drawing in my work.

I started loathing the path that I was on … loathing, not loving, and mistrusting the art world.

I also was in an experimental noise band for a very short while. The fun fact is that you don’t have to know how to play an instrument to play an instrument in an experimental noise band.

What I wasn’t willing to acknowledge at that time was that anything that was worth committing to was fraught with risk … I was wishy washy and indecisive. And I wasn’t interested in committing myself to anything in which I’d have to potentially fail at something I love. I mean, how willing was I really to pursue my dream?

I won the happy childhood lottery and I don’t take that for granted.

I’ve relished every opportunity to break free and change direction and to quit and to hit restart. The longer I live, the more I realize that commitment and freedom can—and do—peacefully exist.

My whole life I’ve been seeking independence.

Regardless of scale, commitment is hard. And I always think of the word forever when I think of commitment. Like, I'm going to be on some straight and narrow path for the rest of my life if I commit to something.

As a lifelong artist, divorcée, and a grad school dropout, I feel that I am sufficiently qualified to have some thoughts on this topic. And I recently got bangs, which some of you know is a huge commitment.

Like with a night sky you stay with it, push past anything you might be afraid of and you see the beauty of all the stars… you stay committed and you push through the struggle and see the beauty in surprising ways.