Like a lot of people, I am intimidated by the overwhelming possibilities of a blank canvas. That's why I draw outside instead; the canvas is never blank. Every detail and imperfection – a sidewalk crack, a sprouting clump of grass or a dropped piece of gum – can inspire infinite works of art, whether it’s a pig with wings, a forest for an adventuring mouse, or a massive sewer grate “cookie” for a hungry monster.

When I was a kid, I struggled with social anxiety and doodling was my best coping tool; it gave me a handmade world of imaginary friends and stories. Drawing was intended to help me avoid interactions with people, but ever since I started drawing with chalk on public streets, it has evolved into the primary way I connect with them.

The greatest compliment I ever received was someone telling me that stumbling across one of my drawings was like finding a four-leaf clover. A tiny, temporary creature half-hidden in a random place on the street is easy to overlook, so I hope the few people who notice it will feel like it was put there for them to find – which it was – and that seeing it will lift their spirits in the same way that drawing it lifted mine.