Hopefully you missed me, too.
A lot of things happened over the last few months, and I can tell you one thing: I am exhausted. I’ve just been and I still am. I’ve been already exhausted for months, when I did all those awesome exhibitions in 2012. It’s like this is the basic shape of my general constitution right now.
There are reasons for this: My Dad got a very aggressive form of cancer and I have spent as much time as possible with him over the last few months. We hadn’t much time left though: four weeks ago, 4 months after the diagnosis, he died surrounded by his beloved ones. I miss him so much!
Few weeks after Dad’s diagnosis, we had awesome news as well: Mister K and I will have a baby, I am pregnant! I could write another blogpost what this means to me in general and as an artist. Anyway. If you ever experienced one of these situations, you know how demanding they are each for itself. But both at the same time? Totally crazy! Life comes, life goes. That’s what they say.
Beside those major events, I was offered a shared studio space in an artist house in town for a tiny amount of rent. Perfect!
Life does go on.
My Dad always said that, and damn, he was right. I write this not only as an advise for you, but also as a reminder for myself. One thing he didn’t say though is that we are able to choose how life goes on.
I choose to move on slowly: I’m taking the time to pause to cry, to remember, to look forward and to listen inside. And while I did so today, I suddenly recognized this as exactly the way what I as an artist wanted to be. Actually I forgot about that for a while. Yesterday I remembered.
So I grabbed a bunch of unfinished drawings from earlier that year and drove into my new studio and I started working. First, it was hard to start, then it was difficult to stop. The images and words kept evolving, and I finished two pieces which didn’t look very promising at first glance. Now I like them pretty much. They surprised me. Here they are (click into the images to watch them full size):
I call them ‘inner landscapes’. I let come whatever wanted to come out. This is a very intuitive way of painting since I didn’t start with an idea. I just followed my inner voice, and trusted it and it was all worth it. They are almost like panels from a story book…
The thing is, art has often saved me. Very often. It doesn’t matter if I visit the rooms of a museum or if I sit and create a piece with my hands. Art always will always be there for me. And yesterday, it saved me again, it kept me sane. Did something like this ever happened to you? To me, art is like a healer. And I’m glad we met.
It’s weird and wonderful times!
Take good care,