Maryanne Beyond Her Work

Great question.

While initially stuck, I want to dedicate space to the human behind the artist; while my creative work is a significant part of who I am, it doesn't encompass my entire identity. So often the person is hidden behind the artist, however there must be a balance to produce sustainable, honest art. 

My professional biography highlights me as many things, such as an actor, artist, director, writer, and creator, and while all true, it fails to show who I am beyond those labels; I am a daughter, I am a hiker, I am a sister, I am a baker, and I am a friend to the many who make my life worth living. All these labels, artistic and not, come from core values that define me: determination, empathy, and reliability.

Much of my identity is shaped by my appreciation for community and my innate desire to give. Growing up, I felt I needed to earn love—from friends, family, and myself—instilling in me a relentless work ethic, alongside a guarantee for future theapery. Driven by kindness, whether that was the people-pleaser in me or a genuine interest of goodness is debatable, but in any matter, I strived to bring joy to those around me. While I’m thrilled to forge cheer and warmth into my friends and family, I know I have a lot more to do; I’m confident in the foundations of compassion, organization, and adaptability I’ve developed, but aim to extend my impact and amplify my voice beyond familiar horizons.  

When I look at the key moments that represent who I am, the intimate and mundane aspects of my life seem more genuine than any major milestone or accomplishment. Grand, monumental moments of success don’t show the journey, but where I got to; I believe every small, forgotten instant is an important step that leads to a greater path. And so, please enjoy some small ordinary bits that illustrate me; I’ve gone on more picnics than I can count; I like eating lemons like an orange; I am deathly afraid of sharks; I don’t trust compliments; I can open any jar; I fed butter sticks to my childhood puppy; I wish I could understand love; I like black coffee.

These seemingly common details and odd traits are not just random facts but a roadmap explaining how I approach my artistry. Picnics under the open sky fuel my creativity, the tangy juice of a lemon mirrors my original perspectives, my enjoyment of black coffee illuminates my love of the simple things, and my fear allows me to explore the entirety of emotion I aim to expose in my work. Even the simple act of opening an ungodly tight jar echoes the persistence I bring to my artistic challenges. Understanding these personal facets enriches the depth I bring into my work, for artistry is as much about vulnerability and human connection than it is about skill and technique.