no middle ground


there is no middle ground

there is here

and then the other


life on both sides

of an elusive “me”


creation, the fragile thread

that holds those multiples together

keeps them from drifting apart,

off into opposite extremes



I do not exist

unless I imagine

Mom … I miss you.

I wrote this a couple of days ago on my instagram account:

Reading “Swimming Lessons” by Claire Fuller.
There are only few books that manage to get under my skin. This one made me cry.
It reminded me how I miss my Mom. I am not supposed to, not anymore, I am 45 years old. an adult (whatever that means), my mother died 26 years ago, I should get over it.
The thing is, when she died, I didn’t grieve, there was too much relief that it was finally all over, I wanted to forget, to move forward, to create a new life. I never felt more free and more lost then I did then. The real crash came later. When it was too late to have sympathetic people look after me. I didn’t even make the connection between my unravelling and the events that had taken place years before.
Betrayal, illness, a claustrophobic country side, absences, silence, screams, hushed voices, lost love.
Briefly, yesterday, I hated my Dad ( and my mothers “best friend” ) , but then I love my Dad, and I am too much his daughter not to understand him. Even his betrayals. But I cry for a woman who was just as intelligent, bright, capable as her husband and who, by deciding to have children, got stuck in a life and a role that eventually killed her. A life I nearly emulated years later. Or actually did, for a while. It nearly destroyed me, as well.
I wonder whom she would have become, if she had managed to escape, to make true her wish to leave, to divorce, to have a life again. I think the love she had for my father, and his occasional outbursts of love for her, were what made her stay, against her own interests.
When I started the art project I did on my mother, in 2014, I thought it would help me understand who she was. The truth is, that I wasn’t  ready to talk about her, not with my Dad, not with anyone, this project is one of my “failures”, something aborted out of fear and the inability to face the complexity of someone else’s life.
Today, Mom, I simply miss you.


closed house


closed houes
no one is here

Friday. Saturday.

and a bit of spring to keep us alive.
Fortunately the realisation how bad winter makes me feel ususally only comes in the first days of slightly warmer weather. May I say that I really profoundly do not like winter? That it makes me sad and tense and uninspired? And may I say how much I am looking forward to spring? To renewed life, to light, to being outside, to breathe …
This winter was bad. Let´s hope for better times… soon.

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Art Box – RTL Luxembourg TV report

The link to the very nice ARTBOX TV report about me and my work is here:

You can see how and where I work, our garden, my studio and parts of Berlin.
It was an interesting experience to walk around Berlin while explaining how my everyday life is. Showing my home, my studio, even taking public transport together … all very normal for me, but apparently worth filming …


artbox screen shot of me in my studio - TV report artbox TV report