The Artist
Hi, I’m Victoria.
I’m the artist behind V. Ruth.
I create art that explores identity, emotion, and the parts of ourselves that are often difficult to explain. Some pieces are unsettling, some are playful, and some simply exist because I couldn’t stop thinking about them.
Whether I’m painting, sketching, experimenting with stop motion, or bringing strange little characters to life, my goal is always the same: to create something honest that makes people stop, feel, laugh, or ask questions.
I wish I could tell you this was always the plan.
It wasn’t.
Actually… my whole life has kind of been a series of happy accidents.
For example, I was adopted from Russia. So clearly, I wasn’t exactly planned. I was the youngest of four children, although I’ve only been able to reconnect with two of my biological brothers.
I don’t think anyone including me could have predicted where life would eventually lead.
I Never Planned to Be an Artist
If you had asked me years ago what I was going to do with my life, I would’ve answered immediately.
I had a plan.
Actually… I had plans for everything.
Not because I had life figured out, but because everyone always said nobody has it figured out. I was determined to prove them wrong.
First, I was going to become a veterinarian.
I grew up rodeoing, so it seemed like the obvious choice.
The funny part?
I don’t think I ever actually wanted to be a veterinarian.
It just… made sense.
Then I became fascinated by psychology because the human mind has always fascinated me. If you’ve seen my artwork, that probably isn’t much of a surprise.
But psychology didn’t seem practical financially, so I did what many confused college students do.
I got a business degree because…
Well…
Business fits everything… right?
To be completely honest, I’m still not sure how true that is.
I somehow graduated with my bachelor’s degrees in Agribusiness and Business in only three years.
Then I earned my MBA a year later.
And after all of that…
I still had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do.
Trying to Fit Into Someone Else’s Story
I applied at banks.
Got rejected.
Applied again.
Got rejected again.
Eventually I worked at a rope shop, which I genuinely loved.
Until my body reminded me that doing the exact same repetitive motion every day isn’t exactly ideal.
Then I finally landed a job at a bank.
My mom was a financial advisor, so I thought…
Why not?
I completed all of my licensing exams, my Series exams, my insurance licenses, earned my AAMS designation, became an official financial advisor, and joined the firm.
From the outside…
Everything looked right.
Inside…
I was struggling to…
Human.
That’s honestly the best way I know how to explain it.
Finding Myself
That season of my life forced me to do something I’d never really done before.
I looked inward.
Along the way I rediscovered something I’d technically known since I was eight years old.
I have ADHD.
But I also discovered something that changed my entire understanding of myself.
I’m autistic.
Suddenly…
Everything made sense.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t asking,
“What’s wrong with me?”
I was asking,
“Oh…
That’s why.”
It didn’t magically make life easier.
But it gave me something I’d never really had before.
Grace.
It gave me permission to stop trying so hard to be the person I thought everyone expected me to be.
Instead…
I could start figuring out who I actually was.
Unfortunately, there aren’t many resources for autistic adults.
It’s kind of ironic.
Many of us spend our entire lives trying to figure ourselves out, only to discover there aren’t many maps once we get there.
So…
I’m making my own path.
Art Was Always There
Looking back, I realize art was never something I discovered.
It was always there.
I just didn’t recognize it.
As a kid, I was always drawing.
Not because I wanted to become an artist.
Not because I wanted people to see it.
I drew because I had to.
It was the only way I knew how to translate feelings I didn’t have words for.
In high school I even welded horseshoe art.
Now…
I’d really like to bury some of those welds deep underground because they were…
Honestly…
Pretty embarrassing.
Maybe it was the tiny Hobart welder we had.
Maybe it was me.
It was probably me.
But looking back, I realize something important.
Even then…
I wasn’t chasing money.
I was chasing the feeling of creating something that didn’t exist before.
That’s never changed.
Finally Feeling Like Myself
For most of my life, work felt exhausting.
I’d procrastinate by cleaning the entire house just to avoid doing what I was supposed to do.
Now…
I have the opposite problem.
I have to remind myself to stop working long enough to eat dinner or take out the trash.
I’ve never experienced anything like it.
Painting led me to animation.
Animation led me to stop motion.
Every time I try something new, I discover another piece of myself I didn’t know existed.
And honestly…
I can’t wait to see what comes next.
Why I Do This
People sometimes ask why I create.
The answer is simple.
Because I have to.
Creating is how I process the world.
It’s how I tell stories.
It’s how I make sense of emotions.
It’s how I connect with people.
If one of my paintings makes someone feel understood…
If one of my little stop-motion characters makes someone laugh…
If someone looks at my work and says,
“I’ve felt that before.”
Then everything I’ve created was worth it.
Little Victoria
Sometimes I think about who I was as a little girl.
She was confident.
She was sassy.
She loved making people laugh.
She made up stories on the spot.
She made up songs on the spot.
She wasn’t worried about whether she was good enough.
Somewhere along the way…
I lost a little bit of her.
Life has a funny way of convincing us we need to fit inside someone else’s expectations.
The more art I make…
The closer I get to finding her again.
Maybe that’s what this journey has really been about all along.
Not becoming someone new.
But becoming who I was always supposed to be.
So thank you.
Whether you’re here because you enjoy my paintings, my animations, my strange little characters, or you’re simply curious about the person behind them…
I’m genuinely grateful you’re here.
Thank you for supporting independent art.
It truly means more than you know.
— Victoria
