Thomaston, Connecticut — March 2026. Ash Royer, 31, born in 1995, works at her drafting table in the historic Seth Thomas Factory. Late-afternoon light slants through the tall windows as a white pencil moves across black paper. Thousands of microscopic dots are forming the silhouette of a German shepherd and the badge number of K9 Roso, the fallen partner of Trooper Arron Pelletier. This is the latest portrait in Project K9, the tribute series she co-founded in 2024 with Mia Phinney of Mia’s Mission. Each piece is hand-delivered to a law-enforcement handler mourning a partner who gave everything. Each dot is placed with the same deliberate, unflinching focus that has defined Ash Royer’s entire life.
Ash Royer spends her days creating tributes to first responders and their K9 partners. She became the firefighter she once only drew. She built therapeutic art programs that gave speech back to traumatic-brain-injury patients who had gone silent. She restored playground toys so Thomaston’s children could play on history she resurrected with her own hands. She designed the winning logo for Litchfield’s America’s 250th commemoration, chosen by more than 400 community votes. And now, after a decade of shared studios and borrowed walls, she finally has her own space in the town that raised her.
The Silence That Forged Her The silence came first — her first great trial. Born with apraxia of speech, Royer’s brain sent scrambled signals to her mouth. As a preschooler at Black Rock and Center School she produced only three or four intelligible sounds. Speech therapy stretched from age three through high-school graduation in 2014 — fifteen grueling years of battle. Therapists pulled her from regular classes, leaving permanent gaps in reading and writing. Spelling tests were nightmares; she read words one way and heard them another. Teachers told her parents she would remain in special education forever. Elementary school turned her into “the weird kid who couldn’t talk right.” The bullying was merciless — daily taunts that could have crushed a lesser spirit. She let others speak for her and retreated into drawing, coloring inside lines with obsessive precision because it was the one language no one could take away. In those early strokes she was already practicing the courage that would define her: refusing to let silence win.
The Crucible: Cancer and Defiance Math and science became her quiet rebellion against the odds — her next call to adventure. By Thomaston High School she was placed in honors algebra, then calculus. She joined a 4-H robotics team that used the high-school manufacturing room. Two mentors handed the painfully shy newcomer a clipboard and sent her onto competition floors packed with 40 to 60 teams and thousands of spectators. “Interview every team,” they told her. For six years she scouted, communicated, and forged lifelong bonds in a world where being “a little weird” was normal. Robotics forced her to use every hour of speech therapy she had ever received. The girl who once dreaded school found a family that judged no one.
That same unbreakable steel carried her into adulthood. After graduation she cleared the Air Force enlistment process despite the apraxia. She passed MEPS with flying colors — only for doctors to discover suspicious lumps in her neck during the final physical. Biopsies confirmed thyroid cancer. By surgery day it was late-stage three. The operation meant to last three hours stretched to nine: thyroid, parathyroid, nearly 100 lymph nodes, muscle, trachea shave, vocal-cord reconstruction. Three separate rounds of radiation followed. Each left her radioactive for weeks, carrying a lead-lined wallet so she wouldn’t set off Homeland Security detectors at airports. One course of treatment she pushed back a week so she could compete in a robotics event; her team won. Ash stared into the abyss and started drawing again — harder. She faced the fire literally and emerged forged, stronger, more determined. Cancer tried to silence her forever; she answered by creating a voice that now echoes across the nation.
Ash’s signature dot art is more than a technique
Stippling is a quiet testament to everything she has overcome. Using only fine Micron pens on white archival paper, she builds entire images through millions of microscopic black dots, each one placed with deliberate patience. No lines, no shading shortcuts. Just thousands upon thousands of individual dots that slowly emerge into hauntingly realistic portraits of fallen K9s, firefighters in full turnout gear, and state troopers. A single piece can take forty to sixty hours or more. The process is meditative, almost monastic. In the same way she once sat through years of speech therapy, struggling to form clear sounds, she now sits for hours forming clear images — one tiny dot at a time. The painstaking repetition mirrors her life: when silence tried to define her and cancer tried to stop her, she answered with persistence. What begins as scattered points of ink eventually becomes something whole, powerful, and deeply moving. Her dot work doesn’t just depict heroes. In its quiet, methodical creation, it embodies the same steadfast courage she has lived.
The Calling: Service and Creation Art had always been her private language when words failed — her first shield in the battle. When her brother Jeremiah joined the Marines and friends entered law enforcement, she began creating pieces for them. Fire trucks. Police patches. Military portraits. The drawings started as gifts. At 21 she was hired at Mindscape in Thomaston as a residential artist working directly with adults living with traumatic brain injuries. She was promoted to working staff, then to Art Director. In that role she ran the art department and developed pre-vocational programs — painting classes, candle-making, anything that gave clients a way to express what words could no longer reach. Patients who had not spoken in months suddenly drew their memories. Families requested prints. Veterans groups noticed. Firehouses and police barracks began commissioning work. She had turned her own silence into a lifeline for others — the first of many heroic reversals.
When Mindscape closed in late 2018, she pivoted without missing a beat — another refusal to quit. She continued similar work at another organization in Avon for about five years, then moved to private contracts supporting TBI clients for the state of Connecticut — a role she still holds today. Those experiences forged her teaching philosophy: patience, adaptability, and deep respect for meeting people exactly where they are. About two years ago she was tagged on a Thomaston Speaks Facebook post from a mother seeking art lessons for her daughter. That introduction to “Little Miss J” — then seven, now almost nine — ignited a new passion. Royer fell in love with teaching children and watching their creativity unfold. The same hands that once struggled to form words now guide small fingers toward confidence on paper — passing the torch of courage to the next generation.
Parallel to her human-services career, another calling pulled her deeper into the fire. In 2020 she graduated from the Litchfield County Fire School and joined the Northfield Volunteer Fire Company as firefighter and emergency medical responder. She painted the school’s official patch on the lobby wall the same week she graduated. Today she serves as 2nd Lieutenant. The same woman who designs therapeutic programs for TBI survivors also drags hoses at 2 a.m. on back-country roads and stabilizes trauma patients. That lived experience flows directly into her art.
The Evolution: Project K9 and Public Art Her breakthrough commission came when a state-trooper friend asked if she would draw something for the barracks. She spent a week or two on a detailed portrait that now hangs in Troop I, Bethany, in Lieutenant Sperry’s office. During National Police Week the piece was featured on the Connecticut State Police website. She received an official patch and coin — quiet validation that her work belonged where it mattered most. That single piece opened doors. State police barracks across Connecticut (and one in Florida due to a personal connection) now display her originals and posters. Retired U.S. Army Colonel and Medal of Honor recipient Donald “Doc” Ballard owns pieces. Staff Sgt. Liam Dyer is a collector. Firehouses that have lost brothers hang her work.
Project K9 became the natural evolution of her work. In early 2024 Mia Phinney approached her with an idea: hand-drawn portraits of deceased law-enforcement K9s, given to handlers as permanent tributes to the bond they shared. The response was immediate. Departments across Connecticut now receive these portraits — K9 Rex presented to Seymour Police Department, K9 Kane to Officer Smith, another to Officer J. Santiago, and dozens more. Mini prints are sold on Etsy so more people can carry the tribute. Royer pours the same precision she once used to survive cancer into honoring these silent partners. She calls it her way of saying thank you to the four-legged heroes who serve beside the human ones she has come to know so intimately — while living the same courage every single day.
Public murals followed as naturally as the next dot on paper — each one an act of service to the community that raised her. Her first large-scale work was for a Burlington restaurant (now closed). Then came the postcard-style mural celebrating Winchester’s 250th anniversary on Rowley Street by the skate park — a turquoise-blue background with town scenes that still welcomes visitors. She spent 3.5 weeks at Lake Compounce — America’s oldest amusement park — wrapping an entire building in motion and color. The BMX track barriers in Torrington, the Harwinton Fairground sign restoration in 2023, the ClockTown Brewery logo and dome mural in her hometown, the Unimetal Surface Finishing office logo, multiple murals for McEnroe Fitness in Winsted (including her first floor-level mural of 2026 — her sixth in that town), the Nutrition Shake Bar, and ongoing collaboration with the American Mural Project in Winsted (where she and Sophie Groenstein toured the massive collaborative facility in September 2024) — each grew from the town that shaped her.
The Full Circle: Family, Studio, and the Beer at ClockTown She even restored vintage playground spring toys with Thomaston Parks & Recreation — another act of preservation. Shelly the Sheep — a 1970s aluminum cast bouncer that once lived at Black Rock Elementary — had been in storage for decades. Royer gave her three full scrub-downs, de-greaser, sanding, and a fresh paint job matching the 1974 catalog colors (with a tan face and legs added for contrast). The piece now lives at Nystrom Park so a new generation of Thomaston kids can play on history she brought back to life. She collaborated with her brother on art-supply donations for at-risk and homeless teens. And in 2025 she designed the winning logo for Litchfield’s commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary — chosen by more than 400 community members in online voting. The logo will appear on every event poster, T-shirt, and program through 2026.
Recognition arrived without fanfare, yet each award affirmed the depth of her work. In 2021 the Northwest Connecticut Arts Council gave her the Litchfield Hills Creative Award as part of their “Creative COVID Heroes” series for contributions across more than 29 towns. In 2024 the Connecticut Office of the Arts named her one of only four Emerging Creative Award recipients statewide — an honor selected from 169 towns. The citation recognized “outstanding artistic achievement and community impact through public murals, therapeutic programming, and first-responder portraiture.” Her piece “Into the Fire” — a striking white-pencil-on-black-paper firefighter portrait — was auctioned in the 2025 Arts Connected fundraiser. She has volunteered with Landmark Community Theatre since 2015 and remains active with local arts groups, including the 10-to-2 artists who meet Thursdays in Thomaston.
Through it all, the Royer family stood as her unshakable foundation. One night her father Thomas pulled Steve Schappert aside with tears in his eyes and whispered that the cancer was back, then sat for twenty minutes asking why his little girl had been chosen for such a heavy path. Yet Thomas, her brother Jeremiah (the Marine whose service first inspired her military art), sister Lauren, and brother Josh never wavered. They showed up at every Connecticut Art Gallery opening and every show with trays of food, laughter, and fierce, quiet pride, filling the room and turning every milestone into a family celebration.
And on countless evenings you can still spot them together at ClockTown Brewery — the same building where Ash once painted the logo and dome mural that now welcomes locals every weekend. Father and daughter sit at the bar or a corner table, heads close, laughing easily over a pint. “Me and Ashley have always been close,” Thomas says. “She is my biggest supporter as well as I am hers. We call or text each other almost every single day. Try to make time a couple times a week. At least once to spend time together hear about her week. I think it shows we do have a special connection people see it relate to it.”
That connection was tested when the Air Force door slammed shut because of her apraxia. “I once told Ashley when she was diagnosed was told that she would never be able to enter the Air Force,” Thomas recalls. “She was devastated. That was her lifelong dream to serve. I said that door might be closed, but other doors will open. Not only did they open what didn’t open she broke kicked them down.”
After all she has been through, he says, “she has done it with more grace, a beautiful attitude, and a smile that lights up a room. Not many people that have gone through what she has could’ve done it as elegant as she has.”
Walking into her new studio, Thomas sees something bigger than walls. “Walking into her studio seeing the glow on her face. There is nothing she can’t do, her determination and willpower is unmatched. Who knows someday she might own that building!! lol.”
What he wants the world to know about his daughter is simple: “If you know Ashley know her spirit we are all blessed to be around her. I truly believe God only gives you what you can handle and that little girl woman is making this world a better place.”
And to Ash herself he has already said everything that matters: “There is really nothing I haven’t already told her she’s my daughter, my friend my copilot my confident that I love more than anything in this world. I consider myself luckiest dad in the world.”
In that simple ritual — a daughter calling her dad to meet for a beer in the town they both love — Thomas and Ash have created something every parent secretly prays for: a relationship that survives silence, cancer, and every hard-earned battle and still chooses to linger over a pint on a Thursday night. It leaves the rest of us misty-eyed, whispering to our own grown children, “Call me. Meet me for a beer.” That is the quiet victory no award can measure, the kind of ordinary miracle that makes grown parents cry in their cars on the way home.
The Lasting Voice Through it all she has kept everything local when possible: prints at Inkspot, mugs with Jamie Scott, decals sourced nearby. She produces stickers, travel mugs, T-shirts, and slate paintings of antique fire trucks (the 1921 Model T American LaFrance became an instant holiday favorite). Her Etsy shop and Ash’s Art Prints LLC ship nationwide. The goal she once set — representation in all 50 states — has been reached.
None of the awards or commissions were chased. In the YouTube interviews she gave right here in Thomaston, Royer has said simply, “I just show up and do the work.” That sentence explains the entire trajectory. When speech failed, she drew. When cancer tried to stop her, she drew harder. When agencies closed, she built programs elsewhere. When TBI clients needed expression, she gave them markers and watched them find their voices. When fire departments needed honor, she rendered their world with the precision only an insider possesses. When a little girl needed a teacher, she became one. When a town needed a logo for its 250th, she designed it. When K9 handlers needed tribute, she co-founded a national project. When her own fire company needed a mural honoring its first chief, Van Keuren, she spent over 50 hours painting it.
She still answers fire calls. She still supports TBI clients. She still teaches Little Miss J. The dots keep coming. The next K9 portrait waits on the table. Another mural negotiation sits on the calendar. Another TBI client is learning that a marker can say what words still cannot. Another child is discovering the joy of creation. Another playground toy is waiting for restoration. Ash Royer does not chase trends or fame. She simply shows up, every single day, and does the work — one deliberate dot, one therapeutic session, one fire call, one thank-you at a time.
And in doing so she has become one of Connecticut’s most quietly powerful voices: a voice that finally speaks, loud and clear, for those who can no longer speak for themselves. Ash Royer is the artist who honors heroes — and through her work, her service, and her unbreakable spirit, she continues to make this world a better place, one deliberate dot at a time.
Achievements at a Glance • Work displayed in all 50 states • 2021 Litchfield Hills Creative Award (“Creative COVID Heroes” honoree) • 2024 Emerging Creative Award, Connecticut Office of the Arts (one of four chosen from 169 towns) • Co-creator, Project K9 with Mia Phinney (Mia’s Mission) — tribute portraits for fallen law-enforcement K9s across Connecticut (and one in Florida) • Designer of official logo for Litchfield’s America’s 250th commemoration (chosen by 400+ community votes) • Therapeutic art programs for TBI clients across Connecticut facilities; former Art Director at Mindscape; ongoing private state contracts; mentor to young artists including “Little Miss J” • Murals & restorations: Winchester 250th anniversary (Rowley Street skate park, 2021), Lake Compounce (3.5 weeks, 2020), ClockTown Brewery, Unimetal, Harwinton Fairground sign (2023), Torrington BMX track, McEnroe Fitness (Winsted, multiple including 2026 first-floor mural — her 6th there), Nutrition Shake Bar, Northfield Volunteer Fire Company (honoring first chief Van Keuren, over 50 hours); American Mural Project participant (tour Sept 2024 with Sophie Groenstein) • Vintage playground restorations with Thomaston Parks & Recreation (Shelly the Sheep and others at Nystrom Park) • 2nd Lieutenant, Northfield Volunteer Fire Company (since 2020); Litchfield County Fire School graduate (painted school patch); firefighter & EMR • Commissions in state police barracks (including Troop I, Bethany), firehouses, Medal of Honor recipient collections (Donald “Doc” Ballard, Staff Sgt. Liam Dyer) • Volunteer, Landmark Community Theatre since 2015; art-supply donations for at-risk and homeless teens with her brother
For more:
Visit her Studio Second Floor of the Thomaston Clock Factory Building
- https://www.youtube.com/@ashroyer2339 (process videos & studio life)
- https://www.instagram.com/aa_artprints
- https://aaartprints3.wixsite.com/ashroyer/about-5 Ash’s Art Prints LLC — Thomaston, CT
Ash Royer’s story is still being written — one dot, one life touched, one act of service at a time. Connecticut is fortunate to call her one of its own. And every parent who sees her and her dad sharing a beer at ClockTown Brewery is reminded what a miracle it is when a daughter still chooses to come home.
