The blur gently guided me into my memories

During my previous painting, I became aware of how strongly my mind was trying to control the precision of the paint. That was exactly what I didn’t want. In a way, I found out that the gold leaf introduced an absurd sense of disruption across the canvas, interrupting my rational thinking. It seemed to share the same quality as intuition. Of course, that was also my intention when I first introduced gold leaf into my work. But I didn’t anticipate that, at certain moments, it would take on a life of its own, disrupting my thoughts and interrupting the rational process of painting.

This time, I decided to work on a surface that would interfere with me even more. I tried to reassure myself. I paced back and forth around the studio, visited the café twice, and when I returned, I felt there was no longer any way to avoid the painting. I simply had to sit down and mix my colours.

As I laid down the first layers, I listened to dramatic, soaring classical music that overwhelmed my thoughts and made it difficult for my mind to take control. Gradually, something unexpected happened. As the paint mixed in unpredictable ways and the boundaries between colours dissolved into soft blurs, I found myself relaxing. I turned the music down.

Looking at the almost-white apple from my memory, everything became increasingly vivid, the humidity in the air that day, the brightness of the sitting room, and the sound of my mother’s voice. The sensation of different moments in time overlapping felt deeply warm and comforting.

Working in progress

The Sweet Fruit My Mother Brought Home