I grew up next to a forest, thousands of miles away from this well-ordered country. Where they fix things that are not broken and plant forests of trees in straight rows.
Although this is my home now. I still find it hard to adapt to this country of neat and tidy and long for my old wilderness.
In my collages, I create abstractions that distort the reality of the images. Mixing the feminine with the forest. As I too would like to be mixed.
I write poetry to match the images I create, I love to play with words and give an image a poem, or a story. Not that they need it but the viewer can decide if it fits, or not.
The forest I love has sept into my soul and therefore into my work
So when I think of love I think of the forest too. My forest.
Even though it is far away. Maybe love means carrying things with you.
It is accepting what you are and learning to love yourself.
In all your wild feminine sensuality.
I used to feel like the wind blew right through me, and carried me away.
From lover to lover, continent to continent, keeping my thoughts in a whirlwind, a tornado.
Recently I have been steady, maybe the wind has finally blown me to the right destination.
Maybe I am learning to love?
When the ink drips I let it lead me.
Who am I to defy the direction it wants to take?
I let myself be lead by the elements.
By the wind that blows right through me.
By the fire in my chest.
With my feet in the dirt.
I follow the tracks of my tears to where they meet the ocean.
And there I will swim.
Veld van liefde - tentoonstelling 