Author: MIA MAKILA

Spending the day with my artist friend Mats Tusenfot

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Digital art by Mats Tusenfot

I’ve spent an amazing afternoon with my artist friend Mats Tusenfot (Mats Centipede) today. We are talking about making an art show together, somewhere, someday. It just feels like the most natural thing since our art is a little related, not only because of the digital media. I feel so inspired and full of energy! I don’t know many Swedish artists and I certainly don’t know many digital artists, so for me it’s important and wonderful to meet other digital artists who are familiar with my world and all the little details inside it (like hi res images of cocks, fruit, nipples, dead animals etc). Mats is a very inspiring artist with a lot of integrity and a clear layer of philosophy wrapped around his artistry (like the rings of Saturn) – something that really challenges my own way of looking at creativity and its purpose. I love that. It’s beautiful. And refreshing.

With my friend and digital artist Mats Tusenfot.

Photos from today

A moving vacuum

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Life is moving forward yet standing very still right now. It’s like a moving vacuum. I feel so restless. I have so much to do but my health won’t allow it – and at the same time I’m just waiting for things to happen. I’m waiting for my love to come here in a month. I’m waiting for sex. I’m waiting for a new job opportunity. For my health to get better so I can paint again. I’m waiting for any news about what’s happened to Domenique. Waiting and patience are not my best qualities. Underneath it all, I’m still waiting for my own wounds to heal better so they won’t bleed as soon as they are triggered. I’ve moved passed and beyond so many difficult things and I feel stronger than ever – but I’m still fragile and it’s still easy for me to be sucked back into old behavioral patterns. But at least I’m fighting it, overcoming each time it happens with grace and acceptance. I won’t ever give in to what feels familiar but destructive. It would be so easy to do, but at the same time it would be the biggest mistake and would ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for, for the last 3 years, it is simply too overwhelming to go there. It keeps me motivated to withstand the momentarily urges to fuck up my life again. Instead I’m protecting the good things I have. I’m practicing gratitude. Self respect. I’m staying on my path. Even though on bad days, I’m reminded of how attracted I’ve been to drama and the feeling of unworthiness. The trick is to just keep moving forward and never look back at the familiarity of the alluring self sabotage. The word in itself is a warning. I’d rather go through periods of vacuum and waiting than to surrender to anything that feels like the places I’ve been to before.

The fool

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It’s been raining on and off for days now and I’ve been feeling a little low because of the monthly hormones. I’ve been thinking a lot about where I am going. I’ve never been comfortable with the whimsical nature of the unknown. I always try to tame it, like if it’s a beast, by planning, thinking, dreaming and working hard to achieve something – anything to keep the void of the unknown from getting any closer. The future is my canvas to fill with my own texture, paint and light, but it’s just that the canvas keep changing shape, so my planned brush strokes sometimes miss its target and I end up painting outside the lines where the colors fade with the nothingness underneath. It is quite impossible to tame the unknown, but I’m always willing to try.  At least I have ambitions. I want to live my life without any limitations. To use everything I am in all my achievements. To never stop dreaming. I want to fulfill my life’s purpose. To love and to be loved – all the way. I want to make love without any inhibitions. I want to overcome every fear standing in the way of my curiosity. I want to overcome all the symptoms of PTSD – and to never have anxiety or panic attacks again. I know that through hard work and the right focus, I’ll be able to achieve some of these things, others will just happen naturally without my interference, because that’s how life works – and some of these things will remain a dream and a dream only because you can’t get everything you wish for. I accept that.

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Photo of my used napkins after crying so much, 2013

I’ve wasted too many years on the wrong things. On people who never deserved my time, love or ambition. On worrying. On being insecure and scared. I’ve wasted tears, heartache, headaches, for nothing. It wasn’t even important. It was just stupid and made no sense at all. I’ve been afraid to shine my light and to be who I am because I’ve been scared of being punished for it. To make other people feel uncomfortable around my rawness of strength, power and confidence. But now I’m feeling sad that some people can’t tolerate other people’s strength because it triggers their own inferiority. I wish they could be stronger than that, I wish they could let go of their insecurities and embrace themselves for who they really are. They would shine too. We all have that wonderful rawness inside. I could never go back to how things were. I could never accept being treated disrespectfully or to have my heart and head filled with darkness – a darkness which doesn’t even belong to me. I’m done being forced to carry other people’s darkness and hatred. I don’t deserve that. I never did. No ones does.

I’ve been such a fool throughout my adult life, not because I am stupid but because I’ve tolerated to be treated like one. That will never happen again. I’m only a fool for trying to tame the unknown, and I like that foolishness. It is a driving force. A foolish one perhaps, but it keeps me moving forward no matter what.

Den röda äggulan

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Jag kokar ägg
sex minuter
mjuk gula
inuti
stöter kroppen bort
mina egna ägg

Din längtan
ger dålig
eftersmak
när gulan rinner
ur mitt kön
med lättnad

En navelsträng
förbinder mig
med naturen
jag är djuret
en beige kontur
med morrhår

Jag äcklas
av tanken
när sköra armar
växer sig långa
naglar
river
min röda insida

En spricka
i min kropps
verklighet
drar mig sönder
trasar bort
allt som är rent
skriker som fan

Förbjuden rädsla
magen sjuder
av skam
skakar ut
sädesvätska
i panik
fostervattnet
läcker ut
ur tanken

Är jag en kvinna
eller ett barn
blöder svar
varje månad
droppar
ett språk
av smärta
och järn

– MIA MAKILA 2016

Mellanrummet

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Ett rum av kaninpäls
mellan oceanen
och tystnaden
solen biter sig fast
i din blick

Upplöst i ånga
tungans muskler
drar mig innåt
din mittpunkt
mopeder ligger som lik
framför sommaren

Måndagsräkor
med frostskador
varma ådror blinkar
längs Broadway
Bambi i ett blått kuvert
är en bomb

Faller som torn
dundrar ned bland dun
silvertrådar
mellan mina fingrar
tappar tyg
och verklighet

En tårtbit av liv
saknas
doften av min tid
pioner som dör
luckor av oupplevda
dagar

Fastnar som vibrationer
i en ovanlig frekvens

– Mia Makila 2016

Artistic regret

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I had to make a difficult decision this week. My internship at the gallery wasn’t working out as I’d expected, so I had to leave that opportunity behind. I don’t know what will happen to my financial situation and there’s a lot of things up in the air right now, it makes me feel stressed, but everything will be fine in the end. I just know it. And for the first time ever,  I trust my instincts and my gut feeling without second guessing it. It’s an important progress. Since I’ll have more time to myself now, I’ll be focusing more on my painting.

My latest digital piece – The Bones of Rape is a step closer to the expression of my paintings. It’s always been a clear distinction between my digital art and my physical works, but I sense a future emerging of the two. It excites me. I’m so much raw and direct in my artistic expression now than just a few years ago. You can see the artistic evolution in the three works below (of characters in the same position):

The Bones of Rape, 2016
Lucy Pevensie (Narnia), 2012

When I look back on my career and evaluate the work I’ve done so far, I can see how it was a mistake to let go of the horror genre in 2012 to join the Popsurrealists. I regret the big-eyes-large-head mannerism because it’s a style rather than a true artistic expression. I am not interested in a cute style – I am looking for something more authentic and real, like a core expression. I don’t see myself as a cute person or as an artist focused solely on the balance of innocence and light horror, but an artist who’s digging in her own dirt to find raw beauty buried underneath. I’m exploring vulnerability, primitive emotions and what trauma looks like when it’s exposed in the light instead of being stuck in the dark. My work is part of my personal healing and my creativity is a tool in my trauma recovery – and it would be a crime for me as an artist to be cute about serious matters like that. I often use humor in my work, to deal with heavy topics because too much of the dark expression and it gets lost in the darkness, the viewer must be able to breathe and have an element of escaping the heaviness – but it’s not appropriate to be cute about it. The cutesy stuff makes the core expression look insecure. Why not go all the way? Why hold back? I love Popsurrealism but it’s not the home for bold artistic expressions as much as it’s the home for “horror light” – which is fine if you don’t want to dig into the rawness of the mind and soul. Then you have to step beyond the boundaries of the “creepy-cute” and prepare yourself to find some pretty disturbing artistic expressions. And that’s where I feel at home and yet on terribly unknown territory. I love that feeling.

One of my horror collages  “Mystery of Death” and one of my Popsurrealistic digital pieces “Happy Day”:

The Mystery of Death

The Mystery of Death, 2006

Happy Day

Happy Day, 2012

“THE BONES OF RAPE” BY MIA MAKILA

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“THE BONES OF RAPE” BY MIA MAKILA, 2016 [digital]

Detail studies:

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The anatomy of a broken sexuality. Rape is a complete murder when it comes to the victim’s spirit and sexuality, but yet it’s treated by our laws as if it’s a minor crime. Rape is not only a violent attack, rape can be many things – even having sex with your partner when you don’t feel like it but that is ignored or when a ‘no’ is not enough for someone to leave your body alone. This piece was difficult to make, but it felt important.

Constant little awakenings

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It’s a time of constant little awakenings. I’m discovering more and more of myself and my strength and qualities. It’s an incredible experience but at the same time it makes me feel restless and a little disgusted by how I’ve ignored all that throughout my whole adult life. I have so much to make up for – so much to explore. And I’ve never had any talent for patience. Or for holding back when I feel passionate about something. I feel uncomfortable by the slow speed of the necessary steps I’m taking in order to come back as a full time artist. I want too much too fast at times. But all and all I take this restlessness as a positive sign of recovery and healing. I just have so much I want to do! I want to make money on my art again. I want Johnny to come here to live with me. I want to put together amazing art shows. I want to invest money in new art projects. I want to collaborate with other artists. I want to write books. Hold lectures about trauma and sexuality. I want to create magic in everything I do.

I just need the money.

The lack of it is the only broken piece of my life that is left from my past. I want to feel the triumph of getting rid of the only dirty leftover from my past. I’m so close to being independent, strong and successful now. So close.

My sister

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Today I have spent an amazing day with my ‘sister’. We have been best friends for 22 years but ever since she moved away, all across the Atlantic Ocean, I only get to see her once a year. I’m very grateful for having my Nanci. ❤

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“Expressioner”

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I don’t like the label “artist” – I want to be known as an “expressioner” (uttryckare) because I am expressing myself in all kinds of way, in pictures and in writing.

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“Roberta” by Mia Makila, 2009 (photography)

Innanför

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Regnet piskar vilt mot rutorna. Jag har färgat håret, det är fortfarande vått och doftar rött. Det är något av en dov stämning över den här dagen. Och tidigare gick åskan som om hela himlen sprack och gick sönder. Ovädret tynger ned mig i soffan. Men det är skönt. Min kropp är varm.

Kan inte låta bli att störa mig på den spruckna tapeten på väggen. Men det är inte tapeten i sig som stör, jag bryr mig inte, det är känslan av att vilja komma under tapeten på själva livet. Vill skrapa med naglarna i den sköra sprickan och hitta in till det som döljer sig bakom. Det läcker in kåda bakom tapeten. Som sirap. Vill slicka i mig livets sav. Jag blundar. Det droppar som honung över mina läppar. Fast jag bara inbillar mig förstås. Känner hur varje droppe kletar sig fast för någon sekund och rinner sedan i slowmotion längs mina kinder. Huden är lika elektrisk som himlen utanför. Det sprakar om tystnaden. Molnen skingras och växer sig mörka om vartannat. Ljusspel överallt. Tapeten vidöppen. Det som finns innanför är magnetiskt och oförklarligt. Jag dras in. Lite i taget. Tårna. Det kittlar. Mina ben. Huden är alldeles knottrig nu. Knäskålarna. Jag försvinner in. Höfterna. Drar efter andan. Magen. Brösten. Hela jag.

Som timmar på en Söndagsmorgon försvinner jag längre in. Är fullkomligt dränkt i den sega kådan. Liknar långsam mjölk. Jag är upplöst. Finns bara i mitt eget medvetande. Mina andetag är min kropp just nu. Jag klär mig i gåtor. I vind. I brus. Min tunga rör vid andra sidan. En liten stöt. Jag smälter sakta in i någon slags vävnad. Tunna lager av verkligheten skiftar ljus, precis som molnen långt utanför mig själv. Tränger in i det innersta. Utspädd med allt och ändå ingenting. Virvlar ut som rök. Växer. Jag är tapeten. Tungan innanför. Livet. Jag väntar på nästa andetag.

Nu har det slutat att regna.

Tystnaden och ljuset

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Eftermiddagsljuset är här. Tystnaden får det att leva ännu mer. Det sjunger nästan om strålarna som precis tagit rummet och gjort det till sitt. Jag trängs nästan ut. Ur mig själv. Gardinerna vaktar min enda skugggömma i rummet. En strimma av grått dis. Jag önskar att jag kunde krympa så jag fick plats där. Men nu ligger jag på sängen och har svalt skuggan som rör sig mellan mina organ därinne.

Du vandrar ogenerat omkring i mitt sinne. Känner mig naken och invaderad. Tiden glider som om den vore hal och kall. Glider bort. Och du med den. Men ingenting förändras. Aldrig någonsin. Det är något som inte stämmer. En glipa. Sprickor. Skvasår. Det tar emot någonstans. Som om flödet av tid och känsla hakar upp sig och bildar en böld inne i mitt huvud och förblöder så fort jag blir medveten om det. Din stolthet varar sig, rinner ut ur mig som ett gift. Tur det. Men det hade inte behövt vara så.

Jag iakttar ljuset. Det lägger sig över mina lakan som om det tänker somna bredvid mig. Försöker bestämma färg på ljuset, det är en märkvärdig nyans av vitt, gult och ingenting. Skuggan slingrar sig över min mage. Den rör vid mig.

Vi förlorade tiden. Känns så onödigt. Min hud har blivit en aning slappare för varje gång vi ses. Kanske kommer min kropp vara som en säck nästa gång du ser mig. En säck fylld av längtan. Torra tårar. Som pulvermjölk. Sårskorpor. Muskler. Minnesbilder. Bitar av mitt hjärta som inte passar in. De blir alltid över. Det irriterar mig.

Du bär på ett fotografi av mig som aldrig tagits. Jag är ful och ser så där löjligt pretentiös ut. Som en självgod konstfack elev. Din bild av mig är från en tid då tiden fortfarande var sträv och gick att kamma. Jag minns den känslan. Nu kammar tiden mig istället. Aldrig medhårs. Jag vill bränna ditt fotografi av det som du tror är jag. Jag var aldrig ful. Men det betyder mycket för dig. Ramen runt är av pansar och stål. Kommer inte åt med elden. Kommer inte åt ditt hjärta.

Solen slaknar i intensitet.

Du borde själv krossa glaset. Riva ut bilden. Håna mig. Det är ändå inte jag. Riv det sedan i bitar. Jag är verkligen ful på kortet. I mina ögon finns dina svagheter. Mina styrkor. Ingen balans. Min blick på ditt fotografi är en spegelblank yta för självförakt. Riv ut min blick. Bränn den. Jag vill säga det här till dig men tiden har stulit mellanrummet som finns mellan viljan och orden. Kvar finns bara ett tomrum av samma nyans som ljuset bredvid min kropp just nu.

Tystnaden och ljuset bildar en autobahn till dig. Eller det jag tror är du. För tiden stal även ditt ansikte. Ljuset slukar snabbt resten av timmarna som är kvar av dagen. Snart kommer kvällen. Skönt.

It doesn’t make sense anymore

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A little self portrait I made in therapy 2014 about my self-image

If you are like me and you’re always moving forward, life is a series of processes and when you’ve gone through a rough time or a difficult process, another one begins. Time moves like a river, and you just follow its flow and speed with an open conscious and heart. I’ve gone through so many process since the traumas. Survival processes, telling my story out loud for the first time to myself and to therapists, making sense of trauma symptoms, mapping the triggers,  overcoming destructive thoughts, feelings, behavior by practicing new ways and attitudes, acceptance and understanding, self-forgiveness, healing, letting go, starting over and building a new life, from scratch. I’ve done a lot of hard work over a long period of time (15 years). I’ve definitely overcome my traumas, I’m out in the light after spending years in darkness – however there’s a lot to work to be done in the light as well.

I’m at the point in my life where things from my past suddenly don’t make any sense anymore. Before I had some kind of twisted logic to my own behavior, excuses to explain other people’s abuse and idiocy, a distorted self-image (which seemed very realistic to me at the time) and a false sense of control (avoidance, isolation, defensiveness, compartmentalization etc). Now, it all seem weird to me. And I feel strange when I’m encountered with the old stuff. The way I see myself and my whole self image is very different now from just a few years ago. I have stopped trying to make sense of abusive behavior or trying to excuse people’s bad behavior towards me. I don’t allow them to treat me that way because I can’t find any reason for it. I am taking care of myself for the first time ever and I mean ALL of me – body, mind, heart and soul.

At times I’m faced with elements from my past and then it’s like a clash of realities and I end up feeling torn between them. It’s an awful feeling. But once I am taking control over the situation instead if letting it control me – I can move forward without falling back into old behavioral patterns. So I have to keep being in control of my own life, this is the only path to happiness and success. There are no shortcuts and nobody else has the right to that position in my life – I am the director of my life and only I can decide what is best for me. But it’s a very different approach to life if you compare it to what my life has been like where I’ve always expected other people to either save me or lead the way. I’ve grown allergic to that now. I don’t need to be saved anymore – and I ended up saving myself. I hate when people try to control me or tell me what to do. This is a sign of improving independence. I’m happy that things like that doesn’t make sense to me anymore. It really means something. Something very important.

Upcoming collaboration with Candice Angelini

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Yesterday it was decided that I’ll be working with the French artist/sculptor/designer Candice Angelini in an upcoming art collaboration – and I totally am over the moon about this! Our inner worlds seem to be related with the elements of innocence and horror expressed through our art. I will use some of her masks and sculptures and create a whole world for them through my digital art. I am sure we will make an art show too, however I’m still too broke to invest money in art projects – but working with my art and being creative is all I need now anyway, the rest will follow. I will keep you updated about the collaboration, can’t wait to get started!