Alexia’s Inspiring Journey in
Theatre and Music

My path into the arts didn’t begin with a career plan. It began with curiosity.

​

As a child, I was always creating: teaching myself computer graphics at six years old, making handmade fiber art gifts for my family, and imagining worlds and characters long before I knew what a playwright or composer actually was. When people asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn’t say singer or actor. I said I wanted to start something that nurtured artists.

​

But the systems I grew up in didn’t always nurture creativity the way I imagined they would.

​

Throughout school and early training, I often felt like I was being asked to shrink my ideas to fit expectations. Projects that felt expansive to me were sometimes considered “too much.” Stories had to be more palatable. Music had to fit a genre. Even in artistic environments, I felt pressure to follow established paths of success (Broadway, record deals, prestigious recognition) rather than discovering what my own voice was trying to say.

​

Like many artists graduating into adulthood, I also absorbed the belief that creative work wasn’t supposed to be financially stable. The “starving artist” narrative was everywhere, and I wrestled with the tension between wanting to create meaningful work and feeling like I should pursue a conventional career path to be responsible. For a time, I tried to follow that expectation. I searched for full-time jobs, believing that stability meant fitting into a traditional 9-to-5 structure, even when that structure felt deeply misaligned with how I think and create.

​

That period forced me to confront something important: how much of my life I had spent waiting.

Waiting for institutions to approve my ideas.
Waiting for opportunities to appear.
Waiting for someone else to decide whether my work was valuable.

​

Eventually I realized that if I continued to wait, I might never create the work that mattered most to me.

​

So I began choosing a different path.

​

Producing my first play, This Is Not a Bill, became a turning point. When an audience member told me afterward, “Thank you for allowing us to feel,” it clarified something I had sensed for years: the true power of art isn’t in prestige or accolades. It’s in the way it opens emotional and intellectual space for people to see the world differently.

 

Since then, my work has focused not only on creating theatre and music, but also on questioning the assumptions that surround the arts such as who gets to create, who gets paid, and who gets to decide what success looks like.

​

Today, my mission is to create and support work that values originality, emotional honesty, and creative independence. I believe musical theatre playwrights like me shouldn’t have to wait for gatekeepers to define the worth of their ideas. We deserve the freedom to build meaningful creative lives on our own terms.

And that’s the journey that brought me here.