Material Girls

August 25, 2026 — Ritzville, WA

I met my oldest sister for the first time when I was 8 years old. She was 12. We met in our step-mother’s house in Anchorage Alaska. She was visiting from South Carolina. If you are familiar with families constructed of broken promises and negligent dynamics, you can picture how this came to be in your own head.

This leads me to why, when I was 45 and she was 48, I discovered a passion she had that lined up with a passion of mine that I never knew she had.

That passion—colored pencils.

How did we come to discover this together? She came to the Colored Pencil Society of America’s convention with me.

Since becoming the administrative director for the CPSA in Spring 2024, I have the opportunity to support their efforts in the world of colored pencils. The organization has deep late-20th-century roots in creating opportunities for colored pencil artists and furthering what can be done with the medium.

I came to choose colored pencils as my medium when I was in college. I had dabbled in it in high school. Dabbled, because we weren’t taught much with colored pencils. I saw very little of it used. I recall seeing an older student who was creating neat works with them, but nothing was shared of what he did, his work was just on the wall to see. “Isn’t that cool?” the art teacher would croon if she saw you looking at it. Indeed it was, and I looked at it often. I tried to do what I could, but painting was touted as the material to use, though I did not have an affinity for it. Cheap Crayola only did so much and I found the medium frustrating. I stuck with graphite pencils the most. After I had finished my Associate of Arts in a small college in Palmer, Alaska, I went to the big college in Anchorage. Working on my bachelor’s, I came to the conclusion I did not want to be a painter, I felt most comfortable with a pencil in my hand. I don’t recall how I got ahold of some Prismacolor pencils and decided to give them a real go. It was a defining moment. I made this giant self-portrait. Two feet by three feet of a glorious and hideous piece. The instructors didn’t know what to do with me. I didn’t care. I was hooked. I felt this was what I meant to be doing. I was going to figure out how to be a colored pencil artist.

And I did.

Fast forward to 2009. To an exhibition at an art museum in Idaho Falls, Idaho. An art exhibition where every work hanging was made of colored pencil. Every. Single. One.

My heart stopped. The world stood still.

I was not alone.

I became a part of District Chapter 217 Idaho Falls of the Colored Pencil Society of America. My world exploded at seeing what other artists were creating and doing. An untapped wealth of inspiration was before me. I reveled in it. I helped manage their exhibitions and workshops. I designed brochures, I taught mini-workshops. In them, I found support that I had never had in my professional career, though I had been a part of multiple art guilds, cooperatives, and clubs in my life.

I swear to this day, loving colored pencil as a medium makes you a different breed of person.

They are one of the most incredibly supportive groups of people in my life. They STILL support me. They STILL champion me as I write this in 2026.

Ah yes, 2026. My sister. A CPSA convention in Prescott, Arizona.

She came to be a watchful companion for my 9-year-old daughter. It was to be a great chance for them to experience the convention and enjoy the days together while I ran around doing my convention duties. A year’s worth of planning events for convention attendees was coming to fruition. While I was setting up the invitational exhibit of art that was also a silent auction, they were together at the pool. While I was dealing with a too loud projector for a drop-in session, they were taking pictures on the balcony and swooning over the view.

I think we all swooned every morning. Looking out over the mountains and valleys from Yavapai Resort and Convention Center was a treat. It was a moment of calm for all of us. I’d like that balcony view installed in my house.

One of my favorite things about attending the convention is the swag bag you receive. It is a highlight. Each year is different, you never know what you’ll get, but it is always good. This year’s highlights included a complete set of 12 Prismacolor Scholar pencils, a Blackwing pencil, a pad of Winsor & Newton postcard art paper, Neocolor samples, Staedtler samples, and Derwent samples, and and and and… the whole bag is a highlight, to be honest.

As registered attendees, my sister and my daughter get their bags.

My sister remarks offhandedly, “Ya know, I have a ton of colored pencils. I color.”

No.

My mind races. I did not know this. I cannot recall this. We’ve known each other now for over 30 years, how did I not know this? How did I not realize that one of the greatest joys in my life, she also finds immense joy in? How was this missed? How have I not been sending her everything from conventions I’ve been going to? From material trade shows? How have I not been enhancing her collection? Where have I been for the last 30 years?

We proceed to gush over her swag bag. Watching her face light up is one of the pure joys for me. This was absolute kismet. For whatever reason, this was the time for us to discover this together. She was guessing at implements in the bag, such as a pencil extender for pencils that get teeny tiny. I found out I had a pink one in my bag and gave it to her, knowing full well that pink is her favorite color. We went over the different brands. Words familiar on my tongue such Caran d’Ache, Derwent, became part of her lexicon. Getting to tell her how I felt about Holbein, how I wished there was more Faber-Castell. The delight of getting to try the new to both of us Staedtler pencils.

I could go on. Perhaps you get the picture. But maybe you haven’t had the chance to sit and compare swag bags at a convention.

I highly suggest it. I’ll give you a taste of ours.

Separate queen beds. She sits with her willowy 6-foot frame, one leg tucked, pulling out item after item. My 5-foot-5 bonsai self, legs tucked, taking multiple items out at a time. We are spreading our respective swag bags before us. Comparing. Looking. Expressing elation and disbelief at what is in them at times. The beds were soft. White sheets and comforters were the perfect background to all the saturated hues before us. My daughter looks over at us at times, assessing, wondering, calibrating her part in this.

This was one of the top 10 highlights of my life. To find out there is a presence in my sister’s life that I can be a part of, that I can add to with her upcoming coloring sessions.

That’s one of the big differences between us. I use them to create my own fine artworks, she uses them to color line drawings. I make jokes that I just make my own coloring books at times, she buys coloring books. She had no idea that there was a place for her in this organization I love and adore. She thought it was just for “artists.” She didn’t realize that it’s just a place for lovers of colored pencils. We don’t tell you how to love it, we just provide ways that you can, for however you want to go.

Both of our endeavors share one vital thing, we both love colored pencil. I am going to gift her a membership to the Colored Pencil Society of America. Their 2 publications a year are worth it, for what you get to see in terms of inspiration. She said that was one of her favorite parts of the convention. Seeing what could be done, though she has no want to do that herself. She just finds solace and pleasure in coloring. She’ll be able to dive into so much more though with her membership.

We didn’t get the chance to grow up together and we keep finding gaps in knowledge about each other. We have to think about mentioning, hey, did you know I like this? We didn’t get to share or fight over colored pencils as a kid. We didn’t get to traverse our abilities and decisions together. That part is missing. We grew up on opposite ends of the North American continent for goodness’ sake.

It is pretty cool, though, that something that means so much to both of us connects us over the years and miles.

Like I said, colored pencil lovers are a different type of person. I loved finding out my sister is one of them.