Augusta Savage

Hello. My name is Augusta Savage, and I was an artist. That means I loved to create beautiful things with my hands. I was born a long time ago, on February 29th, 1892, in a small town in Florida. We didn't have many toys when I was a child, but I had the best art supply right in my backyard: mud. I would dig up the sticky, red clay and spend hours squishing and shaping it. I made little animals, like ducks and chickens. My father didn't understand my art at first, but I just couldn't stop. Making things with my hands made me feel happy and alive.

When I grew up, I knew I had to follow my dream of being a real sculptor. In the early 1920s, I moved all the way to New York City to go to a special art school called Cooper Union. It was a little scary to be in such a huge city, but I was also very excited. The school saw how much I loved to create art, so they let me study for free. I worked very hard and learned how to make sculptures out of clay, plaster, and even stone. I was finally becoming the artist I always wanted to be.

In 1923, I was chosen for a special art program in Paris, France. I was overjoyed. But then, the people in charge told me I couldn't come. They said it was because I was a Black woman. It was terribly unfair, and it hurt my feelings very much. But I didn't let it stop me. I spoke up and told everyone what had happened. Even though I didn't get to go to Paris that year, I learned that it was important to stand up for what is right.

I finally did get to go to Paris a few years later. When I came back to New York, I opened my own art school in a neighborhood called Harlem. It was named the Savage Studio of Arts and Crafts. I loved teaching children and grown-ups how to create their own art. Then, I got a very important job. I was asked to make a giant sculpture for the 1939 New York World's Fair. I created a beautiful piece called 'The Harp,' which looked like a group of singers who were the strings of a musical harp. Millions of people saw it and loved it. Sadly, it was made of plaster and couldn't last forever, but I was so proud of it.

I spent the rest of my life making art and teaching others. I lived to be 70 years old. Even though some of my sculptures are gone, my story isn't. I am remembered as an artist who never gave up and as a teacher who helped many other artists find their own creative voices. I hope my story inspires you to make something beautiful, too.