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The process of happiness

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It’s been difficult for me to write anything lately because I’m going through so many different and wonderful processes at the same time. Processes are abstract and hard to define since they are in constant motion, sort of in the same way the sun is dancing across the waves of the ocean. It’s easier to describe a process after going through them. The abstractions are less abstract then and replaced by substance and meaning – and a new sense of clarity. Every day I’m experiencing self-empowerment and letting go of negativity and fear in both little things and in bigger ones. I’m focused on pleasure, happiness and strength – and it takes a lot of trial and error to change my thinking style and the way I’m accepting it.

I try not to fall back in old behavioral patterns, but it’s hard sometimes. I’m still struggling with the thoughts that I don’t deserve to be happy and loved. The manipulation is rooted deeply into my system.

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Why wouldn’t I deserve to be happy and loved? Because it makes someone else feel bad about themselves? Because I am not good enough? Because I am in debt to the world? No theory makes sense, they’re all stupid. If I don’t deserve to be happy – who does? Someone who’s more ‘perfect’? Someone who doesn’t demand anything of other people? Someone who’s less fortune than myself? All this is also so silly.

I understand that I can’t just change my approach to happiness over night. It’s a process, like I described. I just have to accept that today I felt happy and loved and no one could ever take that away because I don’t allow people to punish me or shame me anymore. Happiness is a choice – an attitude of the mind. If I want to feel happy I will find a way to feel happy. And then I’ll actually be happy. That’s the best part of process of happiness.

Cloud walker

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This morning is made of nothing more than love and anticipation. My whole body is breathing. My breaths are like clouds. Moist worlds of the softest texture. It fills me up. I’m a walking cloud bearer. What a lovely feeling. I hope these clouds, these breaths of love will carry me higher and higher all day.

Happy National Day Sweden!

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I have a love/hate relationship with this country where it’s “all too safe and dull and where nothing ever happens” but at the same time Sweden is a safe place without too much drama in a world which is full of chaos and horror. I took this photo in 2013 and it totally sums up my feelings about this very day.
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Primitive surrealism

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I’ve made a fun journey through different styles in my art. I started out as a surrealist. I was 16 years old when I finished my first real painting – a surreal self portrait. Then, I moved on to explore expressionism, cubism, more surrealism and then some kind of  a primitive realism.

Works from the time before I found my true artistic voice [1995-2005]:

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It wasn’t until I suffered a deep depression in 2006 that I started using my creativity and my art as therapeutic expressions. I also joined the European Lowbrow movement – that later turned into Popsurrealism. It was in the “big eyes-large-head” mannerism of Popsurrealism that I eventually would lose myself and my artistic voice – and then get blocked and mentally paralyzed for almost 7 years. The cutesy stuff was bad for me, it’s just not who I am. I’m raw and direct both as a person and as an artist. I don’t sugarcoat things. I use a lot of humor in my art but it’s never cute.

My boyfriend, who’s really clever and very perceptive when it comes to me and my art, came up with a good description for the paintings I’ve done post hiatus: “primitive surrealism”. I like it. I’ve always felt at home in primitive art and in surrealism so I guess both genres have helped me develop my own style and visual expression. From now on, I’ll call myself a primitive surrealist. It’s perfect.

Painting styles post depression [2006-2016]:

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It’s interesting to see how many similarities but also how many differences there are between my physical artworks (paintings, drawings, collages) and my digital art. I have gone from chaotic compositions in both my physical and my digital art to simplicity and stillness, but in my paintings I’m so much more raw and colorful, whereas in my digital art I’m more cinematic and poetic – perhaps because I’m also writing poetry on my computer, perhaps there’s a connection there.

My digital art [2007-2016]:

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“Fröken Ensam” [Miss Lonely Hearts] Photo suite, 2009

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One of my favorite photo projects I made with Domenique in 2009 is the one about Miss Lonely Hearts – a very lonely woman living with an inflatable man and a doll as her only family (although Domenique’s dog occasionally crashed the shoot). I wrote a script, planned everything from wigs, costumes, settings and location. At the time, I was deeply inspired by my favorite photographer Lars Tunbjörk (who captured the soul of Sweden in his photography while he was alive). Although the project is of a sad nature, it turned out pretty funny, thanks to Domenique’s outrageous spontaneity and my sense of humor. It wasn’t until a few year after the project that I understood that it was some kind of a cry for help – that I was the real Miss Lonely Hearts and that my relationship at the time was dead and I felt extremely lonely.

Here are some of the photos from the Miss Lonely Hearts photo shoot and below is a making-of video in Swedish (with my ex boyfriend Jimmy’s extremely loud voice narrating the video in a goofy way, I wasn’t as good at making videos then as I am now, sorry about that). I made the photographs ugly and everything in the story was supposed to be ugly to highlight the uncomfortable nature of loneliness.

A restless house

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The monthly hormones are messing with my head again, I’m feeling slightly off – and it’s still too hot outside. My mind is like a restless house where the windows are closing right after they are opened. I can’t think straight. I know I am being whiny right now, but I have my reasons it’s just not the ones I just listed.

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I always thought that if there ever would be anything coming in between two lovers, it would be other people – lovers, flings, exes – or just a sense of growing apart. But now I know it also includes health issues – in my case; diabetes (and no, I’m not the one with the disease).  When someone gets sick it changes the dynamics in the relationships, suddenly there’s new obstacles, new routines, change of plans, a new focus, seriousness and worries. The disease is stealing things from both its victim and the relationship. At times I feel furious – and I have no one to blame or anywhere to put that rage – because I can’t really be angry with my boyfriend for getting sick and there’s no one who made him sick to begin with. The energy turns into a restlessness. And at times – despair.

I can’t really do anything to help from this side of the planet  – he is doing his best on the other side. The only thing I can do is to be there for him and to accept what is happening. The latter is way more difficult. But I have to accept it. I’m still too mad to do that. And it’s easy to let the ego ask the questions; “why now?” and “why is this happening to me when I just found the best love of my life?” – but it’s not even about me. I have no right asking such questions. Yet, it is affecting me and the fantasies I had about us. I guess all the fantasies are still there, I just have to adjust them to fit the new reality. But it still sucks.

This is definitely a test to see how steady and stable the foundation of our relationship is. I thought we had enough obstacles with the geographical distance, with practical things like moving to another continent to be be able to be together, money stuff – little things like that. Life is both an amazing place to explore – and also nothing but a pile of crap at times.

Hotter than California

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I’m frustrated. I want to be able to paint all night tonight but it’s just too hot. I don’t feel good in the heat. Johnny is just like me when it comes to this and he’s in California, but I actually think it’s hotter here in Sweden than in California right now. I want to create! I want to paint! This heat is cruel and it’s stealing my energy.

However, I am happy my latest painting “The Core” seems to be receiving much praise and love out there.

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Vingar av smörpapper

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Mina känslor är för stunden töjbara. De drar ihop sig och vecklas ut och sträcker sig långt bortom vad mitt sinne kan uppfatta. Jag kan bara nå dem om jag släpper taget om dem vilket bara händer när jag inte är medveten om vad jag känner. Då är det som en gnista tänds någonstans i mig, och känslan studsar mellan gnistan och hjärtat med en liten fördröjning så jag blir överraskad. Som ett eko av värme, det sprakar och flammar som tomtebloss fast av elektriska impulser.

Junivärmen ligger som en tät dimma i lägenheten. Getingarna har återigen hittat in genom springan från det öppna fönstret och slår sina tunna vingar mot glaset med ett surrande ljud som stegrar ju mer desperata de blir. Vingarna är sköra som smörpapper. Jag har en gång haft så där sköra vingar. Livet var av glas. Ogenomträngligt med en kylig och hård yta. Jag surrade precis lika mycket som mina objudna getingar. För jag avskydde motståndet. Jag ville tränga igenom. Det tar mycket vilja att slå sönder glas med vingar av smörpapper.

Kan inte måla när det är så varmt. Getingarna stör. Längtar efter moln. Regn. Efter Johnny’s mjuka röst. Hans skratt. Längtar efter en mans händer längs mina konturer. Jag längtar efter min brorsdotter. Efter kräftor. Jordgubbar. Allt det som alltid kommer med långa mellanrum.

Även tystnaden efter döda getingar doftar junivärme. Som en kvalmig tomhet i väntan på att himlen ska skifta i toner av blyerts och skugga. Jag längtar så.

Harmony of the core

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I feel so much gratitude for the people close to me. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have so much love and appreciation around me. I’m building a new family of friends and I have Johnny across the ocean who’s looking after me more than any other boyfriend whom I’ve shared my everyday life with, ever did. I’m painting my life with careful brush strokes. Every decision I make has a meaning and is pushing me forward instead of me clinging to what I already know. I’ve wasted so many years, tears, heartbeats and headaches on the wrong things. Stuff without substance. Destructive things that drained me. And unattainable fantasies and ghost hunting. Now I want everything in my life to be real, positive and to unfold naturally. I’m done forcing life in the direction I want, life doesn’t work that way anyway. I am accepting the fact that even if I make decisions and even if I’m leading my life in a non-forced way, life is still full of surprises and occasionally creates little mazes for me to find my way out of. But with acceptance comes a sense of inner peace. And that’s all I’ve ever wanted for myself.

There’s a big difference between being comfortably numb and emotionally paralyzed that I use to feel – and to be at peace. The serenity of the heart and mind has nothing to do with passivity. On the contrary – a vivid inner life of wants and dreams but with the acceptance of circumstances and reality, creates the perfect balance of ambition and stillness – and ultimately finding the harmony of the core. It is very difficult to get here, but once you find this place everything in life unfolds with a sense of ease and simplicity.

Not surviving but living

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I’ve been dealing with a big headache all day, perhaps I’m coming down with something. But even with the headache, I feel great. I feel beautiful and strong. And so very inspired. I’m not surviving life anymore, I’m actually living it. I’m feeling really alive. Working at the gallery is so good for me and I’m getting quite an education there –  I’m learning how to think in business terms and about grants and stuff. I’m very grateful for this opportunity. The gallery owner is also an artist and we feed each other with ideas and inspiration every day, it’s a very positive energy that is good for us both. We make each other grow. And I’m growing both as s person and as an artist right now, it’s an exciting time in my life. I just wish this headache would leave me alone.

I killed Lolita

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Today’s selfie.

The working title for the new collection of paintings is at the moment “I killed Lolita”. It’s referring to myself and the way I used to make myself submissive to my past lovers and how I belittled myself as a sexual being – and as a person in general. My very first blog [2005] was called “Little Mia”. This collection of new artworks I’m currently working on is not a ‘revenge’ thing nor an expression of a victim, but simply me returning all the crap people put on me that never belonged to me in the first place. Their judgment, sexual perversions, their dark energy, mind games, power fixation, hate, humiliation and neglect. I don’t want it. I’m getting rid of it. And I’m turning the ugly things into beautiful art. THAT is to really overcome a trauma; to reclaim everything that was ever lost or stolen from me – and turning it into something spectacular. Perhaps even turn it into magic, we’ll see when the collection is finished.

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A Lolita sketch from 2010, I never finished it. The time wasn’t right. NOW it’s time to kill her.

Blog post from 2013.

I even wrote about this Lolita murder process on my old blog. 3 years later it’s finally happening. I guess I am going all in. Facing it all. Letting Lolita out to play and have fun with all the humiliation other people made her go through – hence the titles of my recent paintings: “Sperm Wounds” and “His Wet Dream” and I’m working on “Bleeding Nipples” right now.

“His Wet Dream” by Mia Makila (acrylic on wooden panel), 2015

It’s time for me to explore my inner Lolita. To find her weak spots, her power and strength – and why she’s been with me for so many years. I don’t want to portray her as a flat cardboard version of a blow up doll or simply make her into a victim. Like everything about me, there’s a lot of contradictions here; she’s seductive and that is to be in control – but then she is OK with being forced into a submissive position – why? I have a lot to explore. This will be a fun and important collection of works. I will try to make it my best one yet. And for the first time, I have a little distance to my Lolita. I’m breaking free from her and it feels amazing.

I need to kill Lolita – and  my art is my weapon of choice.

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Me, Lolita style, 2009.

Mitt sinnes täta skogar

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Ge mig hjärtslag
hårda som domkyrkans klockor
ge mig fukten
mjuk som ängsdimman på landet
ge mig nattens timmar
även när solen fastnar i mitt hår
ge mig friheten
åskan
luften
och sjön
ge mig gåshud som glimmar i skuggan
ge mig eld
bränn ned mitt sinnes täta skogar
odla dina händer
längs min hals
sidan av min själ
låren
kinden
i nuet
ge mig tid att växa
långt in i stunden
förbi kartans ådror
genom tidens cirkel
ge mig allt det jag aldrig haft
det som var en dröm
det som jag minns men som aldrig var

– Mia Makila, 2016

The answer to Hamlet’s question

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It’s Tuesday morning but it’s so much more than that. It’s a reminder of what life is made of – time, possibilities and endless chances to catch dreams. It is a jar of anticipation. A box of whatever you want to put in there. It is also an opportunity to change. To be.

My ride through the Woodland Cemetery, Stockholm, 2013

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I used to live just a few minutes away from the beautiful Woodland Cemetery and in 2013 I took my bike and my camera and filmed parts of the enormous cemetery [300 000 graves]. I also worked at a café in the middle of the cemetery where we served coffee and waffles for the grieving visitors or people who stopped by after taking walks down the beautiful woodland paths. I love this place and I miss it. I miss Stockholm a lot. This helps me remember it.

The stories behind my art: “My Secret Lover”

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Untitled work, 2008

Untitled work, 2008

It happens that I never finish my digital pieces. I don’t know why, perhaps they’re lacking a good composition, or the storytelling doesn’t work. But sometimes I steal one or two details from the unfinished works and put them in a different context and then everything just works. They come alive. This is what happened with ‘My Secret Lover’ [2012]. It was originally part of this chaotic composition [above]. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking while I was making it, but it just didn’t work out. It’s too busy, too cluttered and the story doesn’t make sense at all.  A giant Pinocchio wedding cake with bugs, Batman, toy soldiers, cocks in the sky, eyeballs and some strippers?  What was I thinking?

So I stole the stripper with purple hair riding the tin chicken [placed in middle/right area of the piece] and put her in a much more serene space. And it worked.

"My Secret Lover" by Mia Makila, 2012

“My Secret Lover” by Mia Makila, 2012

Here it is, framed, hanging on a buyer’s wall:

"My Secret Lover"

“My Secret Lover”