Category: ART

The perfect setting for self-discipline

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It’s my favorite kind of mornings. Grey skies. Rain. A soft feeling of love and anticipation inside. Tomorrow I’m gonna move my studio into the living room and make the old studio into a bedroom, without a TV set, computers or any other distractions. I do this to practice self-discipline. I can’t be too comfortable if I want to create a new set of paintings. I’ve packed away my DVD collection. I never watch TV, only streaming or playing DVDs. I try to find more time to meditate and to read books. The thought that every little decision is a choice between comfort or growth is the best guideline for self-discipline. I want to grow, to make something important of my life. I have a mission to accomplish. A dream to catch. Then I have to be somewhat uncomfortable to be able to get things done. I’ve wasted way too many years staying in bed, watching movies and being too comfortable to do something important. This is a new era in my life, and I have to prepare the perfect setting for the magic it holds.

Today is a parade of good things

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What a wonderful day it is. Grey skies. Rain. Love. Sensuality. Inspiration in the eyes of friends. And I’ve started the new digital piece about the house roots.

In the afternoon I received an email from my friends at iLLUSEUM in Amsterdam who wants to include my work in their plans for future solo shows. I feel so honored and excited. My life and career are slowly starting to blend and feed off each other. I’m on the right path, I can feel it.  An artist and their work are one and the same. Life and art becomes one single world of beauty and magic. But always slightly perverted in some way. Or exposed. Never left untouched. They would never accept the pureness of pigments but instead they would try their best to tame them,  because of a rebellious desire to be part of the creation itself.

My heart is open. It’s breathing. And I’m letting the rain inside to water the roots. Today is really a parade of good things.

The women who came before me

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My Finnish grandmother 

My Swedish grandmother 

During the monthly hormone disruption, I’ve been thinking a lot about my own femininity and my body. The menstruation cycle is just as private as it is a connection to the women in the line behind me. Genetics. A shared familiarity in symptoms, cycles, physicality. Like a secret society of womanhood. Then I started to think about my two grandmothers, who were so different from each other and colorful in their own unique ways.

My Finnish grandmother on my father’s side was kind of spiritual and very artistic and creative. The Finns are quite mysterious and they hold a lot of pride and integrity – and I see my grandmother as an enigma at times. I used to visit her after my grandfather died and we would listen to classical music together or she would translate her poems and read them to me. She had a lot of depth but I think she was starving for some intellectual stimulation. Even though she was a happy person, there was always a streak of darkness to her. It intrigued me. I was fascinated by the way she could walk through her childhood memories with such ease, talking about it with her whole body, and then tell gruesome stories about the war (the winter war against Russia) that would transport me there. She was a good story teller. Her life was hard at times and she sacrificed a lot of herself and her creativity to be able to be a good homemaker. But – there were times when she would create something beautiful for her family. Like the time when she created a forest in her living room for the kids to play in. She went out in the forest, collected moss, grass, branches, stumps, leaves, small tress, sticks and stones and arranged it on a huge rug in the corner of the room to make it look like a real forest.

My aunt, uncle and my dad in my grandmother’s living room forest

My grandparents

After a few weeks it all began to decay and smell, so she went back to the woods and gently returned the moss and the trees to its natural environment. It was a lovely project. It inspired me when I was decorating the living room in one of my earlier apartments as a ‘winter room’ where I went all in with a wintry style in June:

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My Swedish grandmother was very different. She was almost childlike at times. Especially in the brutal way she used her honesty and was loud about it – and in her naive view of the world, but she had a lot of spunk to her – and a very dirty sense of humor. When I think about her I see a free spirit trapped in a time and place where society didn’t accept it, so she tried to fit in, trying to fit the norm but not in the most graceful way. She was forced to move out from home in her early teens. I think that abrupt end to her childhood and the need to do what it takes to survive in a harsh world colored her temperament and behavior. My grandmother was very warm and she really loved me. I think my Swedish grandparents were the only relatives, except for my parents, who showed me genuine love and affection when I was a child. I felt seen by her. Not understood, but at least I felt seen. Because she was like a child and I was an old soul.

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Me with both my grandmothers, 1999

I think they are both part of me somehow. Here and there in the genes, but they have also influenced me in various ways. I inherited my talent and creativity from my Finnish grandmother and my sense of humor, my honesty and my childlike quality from my Swedish grandmother. They are both gone now but I still talk to them in my head once in a while. And I am sort of a close neighbor to my Finnish grandmother, because she’s buried in the cemetery across the street from my building. If I squint, I think I can see her grave from here.

I’MPOSSIBLE

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I’m slowly starting to feel like myself again. I still feel a little numb and distant but not as encapsulated in the heavy fog. All my creative processes were completely disrupted by this – and I’ve lost some momentum and mojo, but I’ll do what it takes to get it back.

I’m very grateful for the internship at the gallery, I am having so much fun! The gallery has been my sanctuary during this heavy week. Not only because the work itself is stimulating but also because it’s a boost to my self-esteem and confidence. When I get affected by the hormone storm, I lose some of it. I feel weak, fatigue, vulnerable and a little lost. But through the work, I’m reminded of my strength, capability, my intellect and my talent. Whatever feels impossible is only a momentary malfunction in the brain system – I know I am capable of anything I set my mind to – and instead of dwelling on feeling like things are impossible I have to remind myself that I’mpossible. That’s a good word, a little cheesy perhaps, but still a good mantra.

And even when life is hard – I don’t lose my good qualities. They are still there, hiding under the fog of self doubt and twisted hormones.

Now I have some orientation to do. I need to get back to where I left off before the disruption. Back to the new painting. The digital piece about house roots. Back to writing on this blog again. I’ve missed it all. I’ve missed you as well.

The fog of nothingness

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There are no real thoughts in my mind at the moment. It’s almost all blank. There’s a heavy fog covering everything I have inside. It’s all buried underneath the monthly hormones. The only thoughts I can make out in the fog are fragmented and vague. I can’t think straight. I can’t create. This will all pass in a few days but it’s a nightmare while it’s happening. I feel isolated within myself and almost completely encapsulated in the fog of nothingness and numbness.

It’s not fair that some women have to suffer from this every month, there’s no cure or even something to make it feel better. Some doctors prescribe antidepressants but I refuse to take pills like that just because my hormones are acting up. The side effects are way worse than the symptoms of what I am going through anyway. It’s silly. If this was a problem for men, they would’ve come up with a miracle cure a long time ago. But as all other “women’s issues”, we’re stuck with neglect and silence. It’s just not that important.

All I have to do now, is to wait.

For the fog to leave.

Until I’ll get my life back.

House roots

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“Strings Attached”, 2015
“Iceland” 2015
“A BINARY DREAM” BY MIA MAKILA – 2016 (DIGITAL MIXED MEDIA) Edition of 10, 42 x 48 cm, PRICE: 5200 SEK

Something wonderful is happening. For the first time in my life, I’m growing roots and they are deeply connected to the ground. I’m not floating around in space like a balloon without a string anymore. I’ve found my place in the world just by being true to who I am and in the love I feel for Johnny. Geography doesn’t matter. Nor does circumstances. When you find your home, in yourself and in another person’s heart, external things are not that important. I am still broke but I feel very rich. To be poor is a state of mind (in this part of the world), feeling fortunate as well.

I’ve known Johnny for almost four years and our love story has been complicated and rich in details and colors. So much has been standing in our way – other lovers, bad timing, health issues, distance and money. But we are still here, we are still in this connection together. What started out as a few strings attached grew into a complex and beautiful root system. The progress of our love story is visible in my digital art. Look closer at the three pieces above. See how the floating house with just a few strings attached to a star slowly develops delicate roots which are a little more connected in each piece. Not yet touching but slowly making contact while creating sparks of light and warmth.

Some years earlier the houses in my art were adrift, hard to reach or full of smoke and flames – just like my relationships at the time were either explosive or disconnected.

“Out of the Nothing Box” by Mia Makila, 2014
All the Bears In My Garden
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But there’s more happening than the creation of my new roots. My house is growing taller, like a tree – and I’m stretching out, reaching out, unfolding, pushing myself outwards like I have long and curious branches wanting to touch the world outside myself. Wanting to be part of it and making it part of my very own existence.

Johnny is setting me free into the world. There’s no possessiveness, no chains. I’m still struggling with fears, trust issues and insecurities at times, because of my traumas, but every day I learn something new from him about  generosity and kindness. He’s  making grow and blossom by letting me be me – all the way. I’m very grateful. I hope I am doing the same for him.

There is so much out there for me to reach for.

I will try to explore this new sensation of being rooted but so free to reach for the sky, in a new digital piece. A tree house perhaps. Or why not a house tree, somewhere between the depth of reality and the dreams within.

Missing

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Domenique, photographed by me in 2011

My inside is a mess today. I can’t make out what’s real and what’s been colored by the monthly storm of hormones. I am also worried about Domenique, she’s gone missing. I hope she is alright. Her life is a very dark place right now and it’s hard for me to watch her waste her life and herself like that – and I can’t do anything about it. I’ve known her since she was 13, when she was very fragile, but somehow she’s even more fragile today. I miss her, the Domenique without all that black stuff in her eyes.

The talking body

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I’m in bed with a little cold today. It’s a great opportunity for me to just lay here and absorb all the good things happening to me right now. My body might be a little weak because of the cold but there are so many new wonderful sensations to enjoy. My body has been so tense for a long time, perhaps since I was very young. I am so connected to my own true nature now, I know what makes me feel good and what makes me tense and uncomfortable. I’ve had a lot of aggressive people around me in my life – people  yelling, threatening, shaming, humiliating, punishing, cussing, being violent or passive aggressive while not taking  responsibility  for their actions but making me feel guilty and responsible. Forcing it on me.

This makes the mind tense and high-strung, expecting and looking for the next attack – which makes the body tense and stressed as well. I used to break out in hives and rashes when I was younger, I’ve had pain and problems with my female body parts because I used to have sex against my will without saying no, I’ve suffered hair loss, weight gain, weight loss, anxiety and panic attacks because all of me, body, mind, soul, heart, has been so tense and stressed.

People haven’t treated me with respect and I haven’t treated myself with the respect I deserve. I am trying to do that now, I have been doing that since I forgave myself last year. It changed everything. My body was so full of shame, so full of guilt and painful memories. Then I forgave myself for being so reckless and careless with myself, for not saying no when I needed to, for not saving myself before it was too late. I forgave myself for not taking responsibility for my own body and life. For being disassociated and disconnected between mind and body so one could feel pain while the other numbed it in order to continue destructive relationships.

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Selfies with movement

I feel so connected to myself and all my parts right now. My mind is at peace, my heart is alive, my body is relaxed and my female parts are opening up to welcome pleasure instead of pain. I’m taking responsibility for my body and treating it with respect by eating well and not getting myself in a situation that makes me feel tense and stressed again. I’m trying to stimulate myself sexually and sensually both physically and mentally. This is very important if you want a lasting happiness. To keep yourself positively stimulated.

The mind should always be slightly challenged, the body teased and appreciated and the heart filled with fire and air so it can burn and breathe without inhaling fear or indifference. I’ve grown allergic to both fear and indifference. They kill the spirit. One state is too active and defensive, the other is too passive and disconnected. It’s actually rather hard to find a balance, but it’s possible and worth the effort.

The secret is to listen to the body and trying to figure out what it has to say. Because it is talking. Just like the thoughts inside your mind. It’s just the language that is different.

From him to me right now

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I’ts like you leave light prints all over the place where you’ve been – your light is connected to your beautiful curiosity and playfulness, it adds so much to this world and you are just made of it, like a light sculpture captured in your core – in your being.

– Johnny

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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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.