Category: ART

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

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!

The editing process

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The preparations for my Laura Palmer shoot with Domenique in 2009 (collecting pebbles, rocks, sand and other things you can find on a beach to recreate the scene in my studio)

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Domenique (wrapped in plastic) and the homemade beach

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Original photo (untouched)

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The end result – “Laura”, 2009 (edited in 2013)

I’ve spent so many years editing the photographs of my collaboration with Domenique from 2009. In only one summer, we created almost 20 different characters together. The camera was our love child. We were like lovers in the creativity process – using intuition and instincts as our langunge, we did’t need to speak, we knew exactly what was needed in order to bring the characters to life. I loved working with Domenique but sadly her life started to fall apart at the time and rapidly slipped into a destructive lifestyle of drugs and drama. So I ended it and moved to Stockholm, stopped working with photography – and sold my camera. I am still without a professional camera. But when I have more money I will buy a Canon instead of going back to Nikon. I am a Canon kind of gal.

Me and my old Nikon, 2011

I have evolved immensely as an artist since that summer. I know more about photography editing now, my PhotoShop skills are more advanced and I collected new knowledge about retouch and portrait editing during the two months I spent as an intern at a photo studio last fall. So I can go back to my photo projects and make totally new pictures now just because I am so much better at the editing process.

But what does it mean to edit photographs? It’s so much more than to adjust light and shadow or cropping. It’s about bringing the photo to life  – and to create harmony and a balance in the colors.

Here are two versions of the same photo, first the original picture and the newly edited version where I have played around with both colors and expression. The original photo is softer, more stylish – but I wanted to say more than that – and I wanted the expression to be more powerful and direct.

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Sometimes, I see new potential in already edited photos, I go back and start over, like this:

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Original photo from 2009, edited version from 2009 and my latest version from 2016

Other times, I use the projects with Domenique as a base for my digital art – like I did in “The Crash” (2012):

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More editing work

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I have such a treasure trove in my computer. I love editing these photographs from my projects with Domenique. I WILL make something amazing with all these one day. Art show. Photo book. Whatever. I feel so inspired. And I will also add a photography category to my art section on this website (you find it in the menu at the top of the page).

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Fighting for the invisible world underneath our skin

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I’ve spent the recent days at various clinics to visit both doctors and dentists. Since I have such a deep fear of dentists, it’s hard for me to get the necessary treatment. It’s been a scary ride, but at least I am feeling better from the virus infection.

I’m still thinking about the thing Johnny asked me the other day – if I’m a rebel who is fighting for or against something. I’m still not sure.

Maybe rebels are always inevitable fighting both for and against something. Fighting against old system of beliefs. Truths. Patterns. Rules. Injustice. And fighting for a change. For a new set of ideas. Visions. Freedom. Compassion.

I think when it comes to me, I am fighting against my own past, who I was forced to become, who I was in the eyes of others, their expectations of me and roles I had to play to be able to survive, but also against bigger things, like the castration and the censorship of female sexuality, humiliation, abuse and disconnections. I am fighting for the freedom of the soul, for people to be able to be who they are without feeling shame.  I’m fighting for our core voice to be heard, to celebrate the sexual playfulness, the survival of the inner child, the expression of our demons, fears and anxieties – I’m fighting for a catharsis of the heart – to get rid of the darkness other people have forced into the our pure hearts. I’m fighting for the acceptance of our precious  vulnerability – the source of love, empathy, intimacy and creativity.

People usually label my art as “Lowbrow-popsurrealism”, “creepy-cute”, “dark but with a sense of humor”, “perverted and funny”,”raw and playful” or even as “art brut”. But most people agree on that my art is an expression of something real about our inner world – even though demons don’t really exist in real life.

Bacon Colored Demon

Bacon Colored Demon

It’s that realness of the invisible world underneath our skin that I want to fight for. This is why my demons are without skin. The invisible world inside is just as real as the one we can see, touch, smell and feel – and I’m trying to add all those dimensions to it through my art. My mission is to fight for its voice, heart and soul. The body-less body inside. The heart within our hearts. The texture of our souls. The burning and radiant core of our existence. To me, all these elements of a human being are part of our magic and it’s just too beautiful to ignore. Since I have a talent for seeing these things,  the invisible and vulnerable world underneath our skin, it would be a crime not to express them through my art and make them visible and accessible to other people.

I’m a rebel of the world of delicate rawness, love, light and the pureness of our natural sexual energy.

An internal war zone

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I’ve been in bed for the last few days with a horrible headache and an overwhelming pain in my left jaw. Perhaps it’s a toothache or maybe I have a really strong case of a sinus infection, whatever it is it feels like my whole head is an internal war zone. It’s always something.  But I’m not letting this stop me from enjoying the happiness I feel inside. I have so many ideas for future artworks, I’m so inspired. I won’t let this pain or any money problems,  hormone storms or anxiety stand in the way of exploring all the good things in life. My art. Writing.  Pleasure. Love.  Happiness.  Success.  Just being myself.  I know it might sound like something obvious and natural,  but for me it’s been a life long struggle to be able to just be myself – all the way. I mean, without allowing other people to punish or censor me.

And at times when there hasn’t been anyone to punish me, I’ve punished myself. I’m working hard to break all those destructive behavioral patterns. And I’m making progress,  but it’s still very hard for me to just be myself and embrace love and pleasure without expecting a dark shadow hiding behind it. I thought getting over my traumas would be the hardest thing I ever had to do, but letting go of the fear of punishment and humiliation when embracing the good things in life is without a doubt the most difficult and complex process I’ve ever gone through.  People from my past manipulated me into believing that I didn’t deserve good things, that feeling pleasure and happiness made me into a selfish person. They made me believe that I should be shamed for wanting to be myself without apologizing for it. That wanting to express myself made me into a narcissistic attention whore.

I am sort of hoping this pain in my jaw is real and not some subconscious self punishment for being so very happy.  it’s a good thing that I’m doubting the pain like this, it means that the days of self punishments are over, that I’ve moved on – that I’ve moved passed their ridiculous manipulations. It’s a sign of growth.

USA vs Sweden

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Building a long distance relationship isn’t easy. Especially not when the distance contains both an ocean and a time difference of 9 hours. We share our days and nights together but never at the same time; when it’s day here it’s night over there and vice versa. It’s more than 5000 miles from the West coast of the US where Johnny lives to the East coast of Sweden where I live.

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Then there’s the overhanging shadow of the inevitable question: “Who will eventually move to another continent, him or me?”. It’s not an easy decision and it never feels completely accurate because there are so many aspects to consider. Practical things. Family. Proximity to an ocean (important for both of us). Climate (we both dislike heat). Cultural stimulation. A base for success. Job opportunities. Language skills. Health issues. Safety.

I’ve never felt like I belong here in Sweden. I don’t feel Swedish in any sense really. I see this as a very positive quality, but it also makes me feel like a misfit. My art is so different from the work of my Swedish colleagues. But it’s not all a negative thing – I could start an art movement here. If I wanted to. I could make a change, I could make a difference, I know that. In the US, my art would make more sense, but there would be a harder competition. I wouldn’t be as much of a misfit over there, for better or for worse. Johnny is a writer and could write anywhere, but he wouldn’t have access to a community of any American writers here.

But then there’s the question of safety and health care systems – and to me, the American systems are very harsh and ungenerous. We don’t have the issue of gun violence here and the last time Sweden went to war was in the early 1800’s. Sweden is a pretty peaceful place if you compare it to most parts of the world. Frankly, the blood dripping history of the US intimidates me. And all those guns, the easy access to weapons – and the pride that goes with the second amendment totally creeps me out. I just don’t understand it. When I think about America, I think about Disney, Coke, movies, pop culture and amazing art, but I also think of war, guns, violence, unimaginable poverty and horrible prisons. We don’t have that kind of poverty here. There are no ghettos and you have to work hard to really fuck it up in order to become a homeless person. We have a lot of safety nets here. I just landed in those nets after I became ‘homeless’ after my last breakup a couple of years ago when I was in between apartments without any income. I’m proud to say that those safety nets really do work. I feel very grateful.

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The biggest issue for me when it comes to making a decision to move to the States or not – is the nightmare of the American health care system and the whole insurance thing. We don’t have a health care system with the connection to an insurance based on income or jobs here, we are all equally privileged to get (almost free) health care and medical treatment. I have health issues. I need constant medication for my sensitive skin and my allergies. And I will always be a hardworking artist – not a starving artist perhaps, but I doubt that I will make a lot of money in this lifetime. In the US, I would be insured through Johnny’s work, but I’ve worked so hard to become independent, I would never want to be dependent on somebody else to keep myself healthy or alive. The American health care system is something of a deal breaker for me. It’s a horrible system and if I moved to the States, my allergies would get worse because of the stress and worries the system would cause – and Johnny would benefit from our insurance free system.

We are still talking about all the practical details of an eventual (and inevitable) move across the Atlantic Ocean, 5000 miles away from what we consider home right now. But I think, all and all, Sweden can offer more benefits and a better base for a good life than the US can offer, at least at this moment in our lives. And if Trump wins the election, well – then this matter is a no brainer!

Money

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The heat is unbearable right now. I’m having money problems and I feel stressed and worried. It seems like I have everything I need in life, except for money. I stumble upon this quote and it’s comforting: “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength”. I’m working hard to fix this and patience isn’t a virtue of mine. And I always get a little anxious when things are up in the air. But I’ll get through this time of financial troubles, because that’s what I do.

Because strength is my favorite virtue.

I can’t wait to work as a full time artist again. And perhaps as a writer too. I want to feel independent and free in every way possible. I’m so close now. It’s just the money thing left. And that’s not too bad. I’ve overcome so many obstacles already. I can do this.

Money has always been scary to me, not only because it’s connected to math which was a traumatic experience for me in school, but also because it’s connected to my abusive relationship where he made me responsible for taking care of the money issues and punished me when I failed. I had to pay for all the food, most if the bills and more than half the rent. This was another way for him to isolate me and to make me crippled so I didn’t have any money to spend on myself. It was all designed to make himself feel free and in control and it forced me into a submissive position and a slave to worries and anxiety  – which made me weak and unable to fight his manipulations. We fought more during hard financial times and I found myself in a very vulnerable position. The abuse was rougher during these times. I still associate money as something extremely serious, and the root to humiliation and violence. But I’m working on changing the association to something positive. Money will buy me freedom. Independence. Opportunities. It’s a tool to reach all my goals. It takes time to change attitudes and I know I’m still taking it step by step but it’s hard to be patient when you’re so close to overcoming the last obstacle.

A Mozart morning

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This morning it’s just me and Mozart. My hair is still wet from the shower. The room is filled with the silvery light from my window. I feel really happy. With all these changes in my apartment, I feel like a new time is here. I’m still living my life according to a life plan that I’ve created for myself. On the current step in my plan it says “enjoy life – feel pleasure in everything you do.” And that is exactly what I’m doing. I have moved so far away from my past that I almost don’t think about it at all now. But I still have nightmares when I sleep. Soon, Johnny will come here and I’ll have his arms around me all night, I’m sure that will chase the nightmares away.

I’ve been very focused on my internship at the gallery and the changes in my apartment, but as soon as I feel like I’ve refilled my energy, I will focus on my art again. I’m still very sensitive in my energy – I get drained easily, so I have to go slow. My life and my art haven’t find a harmony together yet. To have been burned out is so much about finding a balance of that ambitious focus and relaxation. Too much of either the one or the other, and it all turns into a mess. Both life and the creativity. So I have to be careful. At least now, I have the perfect setting for this kind of harmony. I’m ready for whatever life has to offer me now. I feel ready.

The need to feel dirty and messy

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Me and blueberry soup, 1980

Me and blueberry soup, 1980

As an artist, I have this curious need to be dirty and messy – covered in paint, charcoal, glue or whatnot. I have the desire to be all sweaty, from taming something – perhaps a canvas or a block of clay. I want to dig my hands into something I can mold and discover a hidden form within something raw and forgotten.

 

I think I’ve always had this need. Perhaps it’s just part of an artist’s genetics or maybe it’s because I had so many allergies and a serious case of eczema as a child and my body had to be almost sterile clean so I wouldn’t get infections. I don’t know why I have this need to feel messy but it makes me feel ambitious, like I’m part of my dream, working hard, using my resources, like I’m creating something that is part of me and that I’m part of – with everything I am. Like a testament to my life’s true purpose. To create magic with my own two hands.

Working with my digital art is an amazing experience – the creative process is more spontaneous and playful, but there is no messiness. It’s a very sterile process. So I need to paint, I need it.

A rebel heart

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During one of our long talks this weekend, I told Johnny something about how I’ve always had an inner rebel – and he asked me: “but are you rebelling for or against something?” , and his question made me completely perplexed. I had never thought about it before.

Both me and my art are of a rebellious nature – we are activists when it comes to the inner world and wanting to evoke a sense of inner freedom in other people. But why is this so important for me? Am I taking a stand for or against something? I mean in a sense I’m doing both through my art, but what drives me to do that? What motivates me the most – to fight against a system of beliefs or to fight to introduce something new and liberating? I need to think about all this. I just love being challenged this way. It makes me grow – my favorite thing in life.

The shift

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I’ll be done with redecorating my apartment by tomorrow night. I’ve been so focused on organizing it so I haven’t had the time to make art in a while. I miss it and I will go back to painting this week.

I can feel how there’s a shift in my life – I used to be on survival mode rather than to live my life and for a long time there was a process in between those two states, to rebuild, reclaim, reconnect, recover and reinvent myself. I’m not doing that anymore. I’m just living my life and enjoying every minute of it. I feel relaxed and happy. I know I still have some more steps to take until I am able to work as a full time artist again. But right now, the most important thing is to paint, paint, paint so I’ll create a new collection of works. The rest comes later. I’m in no hurry anyway.

Domenique is still missing, I’m very worried that something terrible has happened to her.

I’m thinking about how many hours I’ve been looking at her face behind my camera. And all those hours editing our photographs. I think I know her face more intimately than I know any old lover’s face.

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