All my aunts sing and write their own songs and taught themselves how to play instruments. One aunt makes the most gorgeous sculptures. All my cousins play guitar and write music. My grandparents had this very idealistic philosophy of “We’re going to leave Europe and we’re going to make the world a better place.” It’s how my family is wired.

I grew up doing chores on our 5-acre potato farm in Alaska. My family weeded, planted and harvested by hand. I’m proud of how we lived. It’s a sacred thing to have a relationship with what we consume and to be in touch with our own life cycle.

It taught me about vocal control and precision. At a gala for my Crystal Bridges exhibit in the Ozarks, I sang “Over the Rainbow” and ended with a cappella yodeling. It was full circle—I wanted to honor the region and say, “Look what we hillbillies can do!”

I moved out at 15 and got myself through high school. But then my boss propositioned me. When I turned him down, he wouldn’t give me my paycheck. I couldn’t pay rent. I was, like, “Fine. I’ll live in my car.” I was shoplifting food, then one day I started to shoplift a dress. I didn’t need it—I just wanted it. I was reduced to being an animal. I had to figure out how to do better.

My father got sober and decided he wanted to heal. Healing is hard work; there’s no way to fake it. Changed behavior earns back relationships. We showed up every day for each other. That’s why he and I now have the relationship we do. My mother and I have no relationship.

My definition of beauty changes, but I think I owe it to myself to try to be authentic. I don’t want to say natural beauty is better than unnatural beauty. It’s just in your own life and in your own body, what is authentic to you? We all have to find our way to what makes us feel good. —As told to Natasha Stoynoff