The call of art

As far as I remember I have always loved to paint. My mom recently told me that our friends and family called me little Picasso when I was three years old. Everywhere we ever went l was always running around with brushes and bright colours, painting on every surface possible; stones, wood, floor, trees, I had even painted my little friends. Once me and my friend Maya were playing in the living room, just around the corner from the kitchen where our parents were having a coffee and a nice afternoon chat. Maya and I were both six years old, all grownup girls, of course! ☺

Our parents became curious how come that we were playing so quietly and just giggling from time to time. They came to see what was going on and they had something coming to see… Maya was sitting on a small chair with her eyes closed, dressed in her beautiful light blue dress with lace inserts. And I, so very focused on painting all over her face, hair, dress, legs, socks, and little white shoes… I didn’t even see our parents coming to the “crime” scene! They were all shocked at first, then Maya’s parents started to laugh and Maya kind of liked being the piece of art for the moment. The colours I had used were washable, so no damage was done. Literally, from this prospective I had also been a young body painter, only those things weren’t really modern back in in the 80s. Otherwise I would’ve been very famous for it at that time!

And not to forget, I also had a few artistic home concerts… As you see, I am still doing the same things now, only a few decades older.

As years passed I became more and more of a quiet thinker, writer, painter, and huge lover of nature. I have also become more and more susceptible to changes outside and inside me.

In the beautiful afternoons I could walk miles with my mom and then watched  beautiful sunsets over and over again. I could observe bees, ants, and butterflies, playing with flowers in the warm summer air.

And then came the day that changed my life. I can still clearly remember the day I received the call; the most important call I have ever answered. The call of art.

It was winter – way back in January 1995. I was fifteen. The snow was falling, I was watching big flakes slowly whitening the land. Just standing by the window and enjoying the tranquility of the moment. Everything was still and quiet and I was on the same frequency as nature. The frequency of creation, love, and trust. It was all so peaceful, as if the world was vanishing away and transforming to a fairytale. As if I had entered another planet, the time had suddenly stopped. At that moment I felt a flash in the shape of little colorful butterflies flying in my soul and mind.

I ran into my room, grabbed the aquarelle colours, paper, brushes, and started painting. At that moment I didn’t know how the painting would turn out, but it was not even important – I was painting and feeling free. The blank white paper was like the white winter nature – it was giving me so many possibilities to create!

The tranquility of the nature had given me the perfect energy to create and that led to my inner peace. After an hour or so the painting was finished.

Wow, I did it! I had painted before, but had never felt such an energy and power to create as at that moment and from that moment on.

Happiness and joy filled my soul. I was 100% sure about it – I was going to be an artist! A painter!

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