Today we’d like to introduce you to Sarah Drake.
Hi Sarah, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
My path has never been linear, and I think that is one of the reasons I am able to do the work I do today. I have moved through healthcare, education, nonprofit work, international humanitarian work, art, writing, speaking, consulting, and community engagement, but the common thread has always been people, access, creativity, and connection.
The major turning point came in 2011 after a broken heart and my daughter telling me to, “Just paint, mommy,” to heal. What I painted led me to Burkina Faso on an artistic journey, that nearly turned deadly. I received excellent medical care, but I also became acutely aware that 20,000 children under the age of 5 were dying every year from the same illness because they did not have access to the same care, or safe water and many of the basic resources I had access to, while in their own country. That experience changed the direction of my life and led me to start herARTS in Action. Since then, our work has helped more than 150,000 people gain access to clean water, and since 2018 we have supported 30 girls in continuing their education, with the hope of following them through college.
At the same time, I was raising my daughter as a single mother. She is biracial, and half of her heritage is from Guinea, West Africa. Wanting to create a more equitable and accepting world for her in our predominantly white community pushed me outside of my comfort zone at times. I began sharing my art more publicly, writing, speaking, teaching, and stepping into leadership in ways that did not always feel comfortable.
Today, I am an artist, author, teaching artist, speaker, storyteller, consultant, and international humanitarian. My artwork has been exhibited on five continents and purchased on two. My writing and artwork have appeared in international and juried publications and exhibitions. I have written and illustrated four books, co-curated an artist book of former USAID workers, created murals and public art, taught youth and adults, and spoken around the United States and internationally. I have also received numerous local and international honors for my art and service, including a Presidential Lifetime Achievement Award for volunteerism.
What I have learned is that I do not have to choose between being an artist, humanitarian, educator, consultant, speaker, writer, or mother. Those parts of my life strengthen one another. My work is about helping people and communities see possibility, build connections, and move ideas into action and that’s possible with all of the different hats I wear.
I have also learned to say no to things that do not serve me and yes to things that stretch me—whether that means what I’m doing now consulting for an agritech startup in Texas or sitting with a crocodile in Burkina Faso. That crocodile photograph is going to be the cover of my memoir, by the way. And this self-proclaimed plant killer recently revived tomato plants in the Texas summer heat, and propagated succulents, so working with Garden Grid is helping me while I help them. I sometimes look at my own life and think, “Who even am I?” I actually love that though. It means I am still discovering what is possible.
I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
It has definitely not been a smooth road.
I have dealt with significant health and physical challenges that have forced me to continually adapt how I work and move through the world. There are things I cannot always do in the way people expect, so I have learned to find other ways. Over time, that adaptability became one of my greatest strengths. It also made me much more aware of who is missing from a room, who has been un/intentionally excluded, and what might need to change so more people can participate.
I have also had to overcome fear around visibility. For many years, I was hesitant to call myself an artist, share my writing, or speak publicly even though those were things I deeply wanted to do. Being a single mother meant that many of my decisions were not only about what I wanted, but about what would create stability, opportunity, and a better world for my daughter.
Something changed when my work became less about being seen myself and more about helping other people be seen. And ironically, once I was helping people share their stories, access opportunities, or reach their goals, I found my own voice and I got comfortable with visibility because it was in service to others.
There have been financial challenges, failed projects, difficult partnerships, grief, health setbacks, and plenty of moments when I questioned whether I was capable of the next big thing. But I have learned that resilience is not always about pushing harder. Sometimes it means changing direction, asking for help, letting go of something that no longer fits, or trusting yourself enough to begin again.
The very things I once saw as limitations have often become the source of my perspective, creativity, and ability to connect with others. Behind many of my setbacks has been something better than I could have imagined.
There is another layer to that for me, which is on brand as a collagist. The arts were supported when I was growing up, but they were not presented as a realistic career choice. I sometimes wonder what would have been different if someone had introduced me as a child or teenager to entrepreneurship, business plans, pricing, marketing, intellectual property, grants, or the many careers that exist within the creative economy. How much sooner might I have understood the value of my own gifts? How many additional lives might I have impacted?
At the same time, I recognize the paradox: without some of the pain, uncertainty, and searching in my own journey, I might not be as aware of what other people need in theirs. That awareness now shapes how I teach, mentor, consult, and create.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
My creative work is multidisciplinary. I work in mixed media, collage, public art, murals, storm drain art, illustration, writing, and community-based art. I am also a teaching artist, so much of my practice involves helping other people use creativity to explore identity, storytelling, environmental issues, culture, and community.
I am especially drawn to work that tells stories or creates connection. My art often incorporates found materials, layered imagery, text, personal history, cultural references, and objects that already carry stories of their own. I like creating work that causes someone to look again, ask a question, reconsider an assumption, or feel something they were not expecting. Much of that began with my daughter. I started creating pieces because I wanted her to see herself reflected positively in the world around her. From there, I began helping tell other people’s stories, and more recently my work has increasingly explored: What might the world look like if all of our needs were actually met?
The proudest moment of my artistic career came in 2024, when my work was exhibited alongside ten works by Romare Bearden in St. Cloud, Minnesota. Bearden has been my artistic muse since childhood, so sharing exhibition space with his work was almost impossible to put into words. But I had to because I got paid to write an article about his influence on me. It was a pinch me moment! While I have found evidence of individual Bearden works having previously been shown in Minnesota, I have not found evidence of an earlier dedicated Minnesota exhibition of this scale. So whether we made history or not I can’t confidently say, but my artwork has made history internationally through exhibitions in Moscow and Ouagadougou.
Then, in 2025, I had the opportunity to meet Mickalene Thomas at the Bearden Foundation gala. She is my living artistic muse and an artist who also draws inspiration from Bearden. It was another extraordinary full-circle moment—from being a child studying Bearden, to having my own work exhibited beside his, to standing in community with an artist like Thomas whose work has transformed conversations about representation, beauty, culture, identity, and who gets to be centered in art. Not just three days before meeting Mickalene, I brought my three books about Burkina Faso to the village and woman who inspired me. It was quite the week!
What sets me apart is probably the way I connect disciplines. I do not see art as separate from education, humanitarian work, business, culture, environmental work, or community development. I am not interested in making something simply because it is pretty to hang on a wall. Creativity can help us solve problems, communicate across difference, build trust, preserve stories, challenge assumptions, and imagine possibilities that do not yet exist. If my art or writing does not move you, make you curious, cause you to ask a question, or inspire you to take action, I do not feel like I have done my job.
If we knew you growing up, how would we have described you?
Growing up in rural Long Prairie, I was creative, curious, observant, and compassionate. I was always making or writing something, collecting things, imagining stories, or noticing details other people overlooked.
Creativity was around me. My parents had creative hobbies, and my grandmothers were always making something. I recently returned to sewing after more than 30 years, and that happened after I created a collage about my grandmother and her sewing life for her 107th birthday. Making that piece felt like opening a portal back into something that had always belonged to me. I have been almost obsessed with sewing ever since and creating my own designs with fabrics from Africa and making matching earrings.
The arts were encouraged when I was a child, but they were not really presented as a viable profession. You could be creative, but eventually you were expected to choose something “realistic.” I think about that often now, particularly because I work with young people.
What if someone had told little Sarah that artists could also be entrepreneurs? What if I had learned about contracts, commissions, or social entrepreneurship? What would I have tried sooner? Those questions are part of why supporting young creatives matters so much to me now. I want young people to recognize the value of their ideas and their voices earlier than I recognized mine. Whether they want to grow up to be an artist or not. Their voices matter.
I also cared deeply about fairness and people who were being left out. That became a major part of my adult work, but the instinct was there early. I noticed who was not being included. I wanted things to be fair. I wanted people to feel like they belonged.
At the same time, I was painfully uncomfortable with visibility. I could be expressive and creative privately while being terrified of putting myself forward publicly. It took motherhood, international experiences, difficult life events, and considerable personal growth before I became comfortable sharing my work, ideas, and voice.
Now I stand on stages and tell stories to thousands of people instead of turning red from shyness and wanting to cry. I have spoken at embassies, United Nations side meetings, conferences throughout the United States, international investment forums, and on stages in West Africa.
I have also become the visiting author I remember being inspired by as a child—the person walking into a school and telling a young writer that their ideas matter. I got teary that first school visit when I flashed back and realized I became like the author who had inspired me.
Looking back, most of what I do now was already there in some form: making art, telling stories, caring deeply about people, noticing connections, and imagining how something could and should be different or better. I am traveling the world experiencing art, creating with other people, telling stories, and building stronger communities. I have accomplished far more than little Sarah knew how to imagine.
But I also think she would look at me now and say, “You’re not done yet.”
And she would be right.
Pricing:
- Books are $21.95-$24.96
- Collages start at $299
- Classes start at $222
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.herartsinaction.org/shop.html
- Instagram: @herartsinaction
- Facebook: @herartsinaction
- LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/herarts-in-action
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@herartsinaction8268
