Daily Inspiration: Meet Anna Mikhaela Reyes

Art has kept me whole for as long as I can remember.

The truth is that I used art and school to escape a troubled home life. From early on, I knew that my relationship with art was special. I grew up loving animations and trying my best to draw the beautiful characters and scenes in films such as Spirited Away and Princess Mononoke. Something about these illustrations made me feel inspired and hope that maybe I could create something beautiful of my own someday, too. I dove into hobby drawing and the routine of studying and rote memorization to distract me from a toxic childhood. In a home with violence and verbal and mental abuse, those tools were my only way of imagining a different life outside of my own at the time; so I clung to them. It’s no surprise that after graduating from a 4-year university with an arts degree, I was completely dumbfounded—I was so focused on distracting myself that I barely had a clue of what my next move was. Although I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to specifically focus my career on then, I knew that I wanted to keep art in my life. I started out as a graphic designer exploring design jobs in different fields and industries from apparel to instructional design to exhibit design, and even insurance marketing. Aside from my 9-to-5 work environment, I explored outside of commercial artwork by taking on commissions in traditional drawings and even digital illustration. Looking back, I remember this period as a feeling of being lost and meandering between things I liked to do and wondering what I wanted to do and what my passion was. The truth is, I really didn’t know who I was then—all I knew was to continue to put one step in front of the other in hopes that a path would reveal itself to me.

It took me multiple moments of tragedy and loss for my personal epiphany to happen. The collection of a failed relationship, the loss of a loved one, and the difficult choice of familial estrangement pushed me to take a hard look at the culmination of my own personal trauma and how it was negatively affecting me, my personal growth, and the relationships I had with those around me. Those critical moments spurred my need to express myself and, more importantly, to heal. Even at this point, which was the darkest moment of my life, art was still the steady rock I continued to lean on. It was my best friend. I decided that I would use it as a medium to process my experiences and help me find that purpose and identity that I had always longed for. That awareness spurred me to marry myself to my craft and I haven’t looked back since.

Not at all. On a technical note, I struggled with finding my personal style and aesthetic. Intrapersonally, I had difficulties with being honest with myself and my capabilities when it came to fearlessly putting pieces of myself and my story into my work. My biggest concern found me asking myself, “Is there even a place for this in the art scene?” I had so much anxiety about how my work would be received and if people would see or treat me differently if I shared such intimate details of my experiences. In the end, I realized it didn’t matter if there already was or if there never would be—I had a story to tell and I felt entitled to share it, even if it was just for my own sake.

My work is conceptual and surreal, focusing on themes of mental health, trauma, and the human condition. I use charcoal to render realistic images of the human figure contrasted with the use of colored pencils, pastels, or watercolor in my botanical illustrations. I also enjoy sneaking elements of symbolism into my work to add another layer of depth and potential for emotional impact. In every piece, I seek to tell stories—those of my own as well as others—in hopes that an authentic connection is made between the piece and the audience. Although my work primarily serves as my own personal emotional purge, my hope for it is to provide a safe space and to at least start a conversation about authenticity and mental health. In the past, I didn’t have the privilege of a safe space or the honesty it ensues, so I hope that I can share the safe space I have now to shed light on opportunities for others to share their stories and build their safe spaces, too.

What does success mean to you?
To me, success means honesty: knowing thyself. The ability to be honest with yourself seeps into your ability to be honest with your work, which begets your ability to be honest with others.

I think the most successful people take their own experiences and use them to benefit others and the world around them. They do not fear candidness or accountability for the times that they and others fall short.