I love stickers. 

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My childhood bedroom door was a sticker based time capsule. I cherished my Disney princesses, adored Dora the Explorer, and admired Strawberry Shortcake. Through the arrangements and patterns I ranked my Disney princesses from most to least favorite, created a story between Dora and her friends, and decided which Strawberry Shortcake outfit was the best.  While my parents often gifted me stickers, I had to expand beyond them to really grow my collection and my perspective. 

 

As a toddler, after we finished tapping, my class would waddle to the front desk of the dance studio to open the special sticker box.  I was partial to the sparkly stickers. The selected sticker would shine from the tip of my toe on the way out the door.  

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In elementary school, my aced assignments would come back to me adorned with a sticker containing an exclamation point and, if lucky, a fruity, berry scent. 

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In middle school, our “Bighorn Attitude” and overall participation in academics, athletics, and the arts was measured by the number of circular stickers added on our diploma. I had 15 squeezed onto the page. 

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In high school, I looked forward to the  “Be Nice To Me…I took an AP Exam Today!” sticker even though my then weary eyes could barely read the words. My collection grew to nine by the time I graduated. 

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In college, putting stickers on water bottles, laptops, and other personal items became a social norm. I accumulated my stickers from activities, stores, and travels but did not put them on my childhood door or my personal items. I wanted something even more comprehensive. 

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I invested in a vinyl sticker book with a shiny blue patterned cover so I could keep my stickers and organize them as I continued to evolve. I made a section for my hometown of Reno and my adopted home of Spokane. I added states—California, Wyoming, Massachusetts—and cities from the west coast to the east and even abroad as with Canada. I perhaps intentionally forgot stickers when I traveled to Europe so I would have an excuse to go back. Dirty Sally’s General Store in Ten Sleep, Wyoming was a particular visit favorite. Gonzaga University had its own dedicated portion. My hobbies of performing, dancing, writing, and playing tennis were represented through icons. My favorite fandoms—Disney, Harry Potter, How To Train Your Dragon, musicals, classic TV shows—lined the pages. Each completed TV show my partner and I watched together had a corresponding symbol. The Ellie badge from the movie Up resided in a corner in honor of my deceased Grammie also named Ellie. The miscellaneous part consisted of stickers ranging from a mini painting, raccoon in a cap, and sun peeking out from behind a cloud. Important phrases like “STRESSED spelled backwards is DESSERTS”  littered the vacant spaces. The latest edition was the character Strega Nona (from the book Strega Nona) with her infamous magic pasta pot under the banner “girl dinner”. 

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I began communicating with stickers even when my concept of language was infantile. Taken as a whole, these stickers tell my story and reflect how I tell stories. 

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I am inspired by the arts, education, and media. My undergraduate pursuits of Communication Studies, Psychology, and Dance combined with my graduate work in Communication and Leadership Studies enables me to examine storytelling through intellectual and embodied capacities.  

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My role as marketing & public relations assistant for the Theatre & Dance Department at Gonzaga University allows me to probe these dimensions through writing newsletters, creating digital media content, generating production programs, photographing performances, and being the primary house manager for our Magnuson Theatre. I can stick creative touches throughout too!

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My experiences with choreographing, staging, and performing further explore this storytelling relationship with how the movements communicate dynamics and  emotions. As with my Disney princesses, the way performers are physically organized can communicate position and status. As with Dora the Explorer, the way performers move with each other can communicate their feelings and relationship. As with Strawberry Shortcake, the way the performers present themselves can communicate who they are at their core. Together, this complex collage of movement creates a comprehensive narrative. 

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My sticker collection is still a work in progress. My childhood door will have to become a designated souvenir if my childhood house is sold. Thankfully, my vinyl sticker book has numerous blank pages to fill. However, I do recognize that I may need to eventually purchase another sticker book as I hope the future offers plenty of opportunities for continued growth in sticker quantity and in my ability to communicate and tell stories.  

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I do love stickers.