Between art and everyday life – three thoughts currently on my mind

I like silence. Being with myself, moving slowly. And yet I sometimes wonder when it tips over. When stillness turns into retreat. When retreat turns into disconnection. Until the silence becomes a kind of numbness, and I can no longer hear myself. Right now, it feels a bit like that.

I move differently through my days. More vague, more quiet, more cut off. My inner rhythm has slowed. Everything feels too much. I don’t want to do anything – and yet there’s so much to do. I’m in a kind of in-between state, caught in my own thoughts.

Am I still an artist if I’m not painting?

Some days, I don’t feel like one. When I’m not producing anything, not touching colours, not finishing any work – I feel like I’m disappearing. Like I have nothing to show, nothing to say. As if my creativity is simply waiting for me to breathe again.

In our society, a person’s identity is tightly linked to productivity. When you meet someone new, one of the first questions is: what do you do? Who we are is often defined by what we make. And although I don’t actually believe in that, I sometimes catch myself thinking the same way. Not about others – but about myself.

A state like the one I’m in now is a breeding ground for doubt. And it feeds itself. Do I doubt because I’m not painting – or am I not painting because I’m doubting?
Maybe something is working itself out within me that hasn’t yet found its form. Either way, this state is hard to bear.

Current affairs à la collective amnesia

Lately, I find it harder and harder to bear the news. The rising xenophobia, the normalisation of far-right rhetoric, the surge of the AfD – not at the fringes, but in the centre! Sometimes I think we’re right back in the 1920s and 30s.

There’s a mixture of anger, fear, and paralysis building up inside me. I don’t expect the new German government to counter this. On the contrary, it seems to be fuelling it. And then I look to the US – and see what’s already possible again, just months into another Trump-presidency. How quickly inhumanity is accepted again, as if it were just another opinion.

All of this weighs on me – more loudly when I can’t turn it into images. When I’m not painting, my way of seeing changes. Art is like a magnifying glass for me. It helps me see more clearly. But it’s also a filter – a way of processing what I feel. Right now, I’m missing both.

Staying curious

Next week I’m going to the sea. It’s not a long holiday, but it’s been a long time coming. Sun, salt air, different colours. I’m looking forward to the openness – and the small things. I’m looking forward to rediscovering my curiosity. About things that serve no purpose. About the seemingly insignificant things I’ve been too tired to notice. A shadow on a sunlit wall. The texture of a seashell. Sounds I never hear at home.

When I’m back in the studio, I hope my inspiration will draw from a fuller well again.
Of course, I can’t always just take a holiday – not as often as I’d like. But a shift in perspective changes the way I see. And sometimes, that works just as well from home.

States of in-between

I don’t know when the next piece of art will emerge. For now, I’ll simply be on my way. And that’s enough.
Some days remain fragmentary. Thoughts, feelings, observations – they stand beside each other. Maybe one day they’ll form a whole.