Edmonia Lewis

Hello, my name is Edmonia Lewis, and I told stories using stone. My beginning was very special. I was born around July 4th, 1844. My father was Afro-Haitian, and my mother had both Mississauga Ojibwe and African American family roots. Sadly, my parents passed away when I was just a child. After they were gone, I went to live with my mother's Ojibwe tribe. They gave me a beautiful name, Wildfire. I remember this time fondly. I spent my days running through the woods, fishing, and swimming. I loved being close to nature and was always busy making things with my hands. I would create small baskets and other crafts from things I found in the forest. Even then, I knew that I loved to shape and form things, turning simple materials into something new and beautiful. This time living freely taught me to see the world with an artist's eyes, and I carried those memories with me for my entire life.

As I grew older, my older brother, whose name was Sunrise, believed I should have a formal education. He worked hard to save money so I could go to school. In 1859, I enrolled at Oberlin College in Ohio. It was a very special place because it was one of the first colleges in America to accept women and students of color. School was not always easy for me, and I faced many challenges. But through it all, I held onto my dream of becoming a professional artist. In 1864, I moved to Boston, Massachusetts, determined to learn how to be a sculptor. I found a kind teacher, a sculptor named Edward Augustus Brackett, who saw my passion and agreed to show me how to work with clay. I practiced and practiced, and soon I had my first big success. I created a sculpture of a Civil War hero named Colonel Robert Gould Shaw. People in Boston loved it, and so many people wanted a copy that I earned enough money to follow my biggest dream of all.

My dream was to travel to Rome, Italy. In the 1800s, Rome was the center of the world for sculptors. It was where the finest marble came from and where the greatest artists worked. In 1865, I sailed across the Atlantic Ocean and found a place to open my very own studio. It was thrilling to be in a community of artists, but I made my art in my own way. I especially loved working with beautiful, smooth white marble. Using my hammer and chisels, I carved sculptures that told the stories of my heritage. One piece, 'The Arrow Maker,' showed an Ojibwe father teaching his daughter how to make an arrow. I also created figures from history and the Bible, like a sculpture of 'Hagar,' who was a woman cast out into the desert. My most famous piece was a huge sculpture I called 'The Death of Cleopatra.' It was so big and heavy, carved from a single block of marble. In 1876, I sent it all the way back to America for the country's 100th birthday party, the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. Everyone who saw it was amazed.

I continued creating art for many years, telling the stories in stone that were important to me. I lived to be 63 years old. After my time, the world changed, and for a while, some of my sculptures were lost, and my story was almost forgotten. But I am happy to say that people eventually found my beautiful statues again. Today, my work is displayed in famous museums, where it reminds everyone that art belongs to all people. My sculptures of brave women, heroes, and my own ancestors have a home where they can be seen and appreciated. I hope my story shows you that you can follow your dreams and create something beautiful, no matter where you come from or what challenges you face.