My name is Daniel Rivers, and I’ve spent years navigating a job world that never truly fit me. I tried. I pushed myself into roles that felt safe, that seemed practical, but none of them gave me what I was looking for. Over time, my depression deepened, and I struggled to understand what was wrong with me. It took me years to realize that I wasn’t broken—I was just forcing myself into a life that wasn’t mine.

Art was always there, waiting. Even as a kid, I used it to escape, to process emotions, to make sense of a world that often made no sense to me. I grew up in a divided home, caught between cultures, between expectations. Born to a Black father and a white mother in Munich, I was never fully accepted on either side. My dad’s family thought my mom had “stolen” a good Black man, while my mom’s side, especially my grandmother, made it clear that I was the “wrong” kind of different.

After my parents split when I was two, my dad returned to the U.S., and my mom, an artist herself, did her best to provide—but work often took her away. That left me with my grandmother, who tried to care for me but never truly saw me. Her resentment slipped through in moments of anger, reminding me again and again that I would never fully belong. Growing up as a Black kid in the German countryside during the ’90s wasn’t easy. Fighting and resisting became second nature, but so did escaping into my own world—drawing, gaming, creating anything that helped me forget.

In my early 20s, a single moment shifted something inside me. I was waiting at the dentist’s office when I picked up a magazine and saw a portrait of Jean-Michel Basquiat. I didn’t know who he was, but I recognized the expression on his face—the battles, the struggles. Something about it stuck with me. It wasn’t until years later that I understood why.

I spent most of my 20s creating—digital art, woodworking, photography—anything that allowed me to build something out of nothing. But I was too insecure to put my work out there. Then, in 2018, my father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I hadn’t seen him in years, and by the time I flew to the U.S., he was already a shadow of the man I once knew. Losing him was like losing him twice. When I came back to Germany, I felt hollow, lost. For years after, I barely created. I was stuck in a cycle of self-sabotage, releasing a song here and there but mostly drowning in the silence.

By 2024, after years of working in jobs that drained me, I hit rock bottom again. The company I worked at had its third round of layoffs, and I finally understood that this career was making me sick. I was wasting my life. That’s when I made the decision—I had to return to creating.

It took me a long time to realize this, but no matter how bad things have gotten, art has always been the thing that pulls me back. It’s the one place where I don’t have to explain myself. Where I can exist, unapologetically. I paint at night, when the world is quiet, when it’s just me and the canvas. That’s when I can be completely honest. Every piece I create is one of a kind, tied to a specific moment, emotion, or thought. Nothing gets repeated. Every painting is a reflection of something real.

Now, I’m fully committing to making a living as an artist. My biggest dream is to create—to have my own studio, to build something lasting, to support young artists who feel as lost as I once did. I want to carve my own path, to be recognized as Daniel Rivers, an artist from Munich.

My story is tough, but it has shaped me into the artist I am today. I don’t want support out of sympathy—I want people to back me because they connect with my work, because they believe in what I’m trying to build. If that’s you—welcome. Let’s create something real together.

This is where you come in. If you connect with my work and want to be part of this journey, your support means everything. Whether it’s through donations, buying a piece, or just spreading the word, every bit helps. The main expenses I’ll be covering are:

• Materials

• Website maintenance

• Advertising and production costs

My next major step, which will cost me a lot of effort, is getting my work into galleries, participating in events, and offering prints and merchandise. This isn’t just about making a living—it’s about living my dream. And I’d love for you to be part of it.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. If you want to support me you can do so here or make a donation below.

Warm regards,

Daniel Rivers