I was driving a car today for a photoshoot with a client, daydreaming. I let myself drift into my teenage years, and even deeper, into my childhood, to reflect on my artistic journey and influences. A few memories made me smile, and I promised myself to write things down this evening (doing it now, well done me) so I won’t forget.
As a little child, I danced often, loved music, and had fun using tools like pens and scissors. The latter got me into trouble multiple times. I cut my own hair into a super short bob (thankfully, I didn’t stab my throat), my mother’s fabrics and paper patterns (in one go). My mum, while she initially wanted to study art, settled for tailoring school (before she got her master’s in law in her 40s), made many beautiful outfits for me and my sister Kamila (also a professional artist - check her out on Instagram and second account here). A small gallery below:
Allegedly, when asked who I wanted to become when I was older, I replied: "A famous artist. And I want my art to be in the biggest galleries in the world!" How modest. Well, actually, dream big, little one, you’re dead right! Later, in primary school, I enjoyed drama, reciting poetry, writing my own, singing, volleyball, badminton and making visual art. One weekend, my parents took my younger sister and me to an air show, and I sat in a small aeroplane (photo below). I was in love. I told everyone I wanted to become an army pilot, and even school librarians started to collect encouraging articles about women in the army.
By the time I was 12 and about to go to secondary school, my dad had trained me to draw still life every day for months in preparation for art school exams (the same one that he went to). I passed the exams with top scores, and once the school year started, I relaxed into the new surroundings and started to enjoy the workshops located by the beach and fishermen's marina in Gdynia Orłowo, Poland.
No doubt, in the first year or two, I loved sculpture and had little interest in painting. I must’ve stated that clearly to my teacher because he brought a massive book about a famous sculptor. The publication showed his drawings and paintings as an important part of mastering multidimensional art. Intrigued, I applied myself and eventually grew to love painting more. I even ended up representing the school in the painting category in a nationwide art school competition. When it comes to influences, I was fascinated by Alphonse Mucha and Art Deco, loved the illustrations in the book series The Moomins by Tove Jansson, and raw art by Egon Schiele. My sculpture, the final piece I did to complete the six years in art school, was inspired by one of Schiele’s paintings.
Another strong influence was my grandad (dad’s dad, aged 90 and in great shape). I visited him regularly as an older teenager, and to this day, we share many giggles, an appreciation for beauty, and heritage. He was a leather maker and all-round amazing craftsman most of his life, and still continues to amaze me. When I rang him a few days ago, he was telling me all about yet another rather eccentric outfit he’s sewing for himself. A big fan of Salvador Dalí, his appearance is often a conversation starter for the people of Sopot (where he lives). When I speak to him, I’m under the impression that he lives and breathes art, and certainly thinks a lot about expressing ourselves through fashion. After all, he spent most of his life designing and making leather handbags.
I don’t want to dampen the mood, but if I’m going to follow my timeline, I have to mention my mental health. My happiness level is by default quite high, but around the age of 16/ 17, apart from my mood gradually lowering, I started to experience worrying physical symptoms, which made me go to my family doctor. I don’t recall the whole questioning, but I remember that when he asked me if I had suicidal thoughts, without thinking long, I answered: "Aren’t we all?". I was prescribed medication for depression and therapy. I knew deep down that in order to get better, I needed to change my environment, which I did as soon as I turned 18. Moving out of my family home meant no financial support while I was studying for my Leaving Cert, my art school diploma, and contemplating what was next while working in a local coffee shop. Continuing to study art felt risky, even though I was, at the time, earning a bit of money painting portrait commissions, illustrating for a school book publisher, and giving art classes to a little girl.
In need of some structure, I applied to study National Security at AMW (Gdynia, Poland) and got accepted. The change of environment felt refreshing, and I had an opportunity to start fresh with my identity. It took a while to introduce my artistic side to other students and professors. I think, looking back, I didn’t want to be perceived as an artist (airy-fairy/ chaotic). Once I started to get more comfortable with sketching portraits of lecturers in my notebooks, there was no coming back. I was asked to design a logo for a student group, paint some seascapes as gifts for conference speakers, and a few other commissions. I learned to embrace both sides of me, the artistic and the structured one, they can indeed coexist quite happily.
In 2012, I graduated, got married (too young and way too fast), and moved to Ireland. Initially, I planned to continue studying in the same field at Trinity, but I gave myself some time to earn money first and settled into the new culture. I got a job in a hotel on the beach, a little north of Dublin City, and started to paint and photograph during my days off. The hotel owners offered to exhibit my art in the little restaurant. I got pregnant and lost the baby, which hit me hard. I changed jobs, got into a 9-to-5 corporate role, and continued to create when I was off purely to relax and get some sense of fulfilment.
I got pregnant again in 2014, second time lucky. I gave birth to my son. I bought a house away from Dublin while expecting my daughter (15 months apart) and decided to give my photography side hustle full attention (work-wise, clearly my hands were full with two babies). My marriage crumbled, and I decided to leave the house and the relationship. Before this tough decision, I spent months practising daily meditation and painting to keep myself well during challenging circumstances. I had many aha moments. First, I realised that making art helped my mental health many times. I leaned on my practice every time I was going through rough periods. Second, the familiarity of becoming depressed and feeling stuck gave me the strength to change my life, quite dramatically. Third, a sense of personal mission emerged. I had a vision that while it would take time to reorganise my life, once I was in a position to do so, I’d educate others or inspire them in some way to use hands-on creativity to improve mental health and wellbeing.
Once I got out of the marriage, I felt a sense of relief and freedom. My two bambinos and I moved to a nearby town, where we met new friends, and I returned to studying (coaching and facilitation). In 2018, I met my current partner, who became my best friend and has encouraged my growth ever since (cheesy but true).
I opened my studio in the Castlecomer Craft Yard to have a venue for my signature workshop (Symbollage). I was collaborating with Amber Women’s Refuge in Kilkenny and local family resource centres throughout Covid restrictions. I co-produced the Creativity for Wellbeing Workbook (sold out) with Mental Health Ireland and spoke at their conferences about my experiences with using art to heal and improve wellbeing. My work got featured on national TV, radio stations, and newspapers. I received multiple business awards. When it comes to my art, I leaned into a black and white aesthetic for years, from symbolic linocut prints and colouring book illustrations to inky portrait commissions.
I had a miscarriage, and a bit over a year later, a rainbow baby that shook our family dynamic and certainly my career. My little girl’s health was a big uncertainty after the mid-pregnancy check-up scan in early 2022. Once again, my personal creative practice became crucial for my mental health. This time, instead of art supplies, I reached for a new shiny camera. I started to photograph neighbours in their studios (a lovely community of artists and makers, make sure to follow Castlecomer Craft Yard). Dealing with uncertainty, frequent hospital check-ups, and my own health issues (resolved as I’m writing this) left me feeling overwhelmed and chronically stressed. My anxiety chest pains had a big comeback after many years of absence. Therapy returned, alongside a focus on a healthier lifestyle and balancing my work life.
I went back to studying and completed two postgraduate courses: Arts and Health (a pilot group at NCAD) and Workplace Wellness at Trinity Business School (Distinction). It seems like a pattern, every time I have a small child/ children by my side, I feel a need to study. Coming back to a studio shop or even running in-person workshops didn’t feel like the best use of my time, which was very limited.
I created a series of oil cloudscapes and a mixed media/ embroidery series for a group exhibition. I embraced my brand/ portrait photography services and started to make short documentaries, interviewing established artists and makers across the island of Ireland about their stories of hands-on creativity and mental health (Substack | YouTube | Instagram).
This year, I started to feel like a fraud. A “professional artist” (as listed/ recognised by VAI) with a depleted visual arts practice. The repetitive process of linocut printmaking, which I loved for years, began to leave me with a painful hand/ shoulder strain and gradually took the joy out of it. I archived pictures of my art and focused on being a photographer and independent documentary filmmaker. I didn’t want to feel ungrateful; after all, the vintage camera I carried with me everywhere was a satisfying creative practice, and using my bulkier gear for professional projects was (and is) a stimulating creative work. I started to wonder: will I ever pick up my paints again? It’s been so long.
Visits to art galleries and museums are inspiring and bring a lot of joy, yet it took a voice memo exchange with my dad to kick-start my painting. We spoke about my childhood, his childhood, and my grandad’s childhood (the strong influence I mentioned). For the first time, I learned about the dark history of my great-grandad being a war prisoner, sentenced to death for years, and then released as the Second World War ended. He returned to his family to raise his children, but as a very different man. I cried, somehow feeling a lot of multigenerational pain and trauma expressing itself in my body. Unexpectedly, with this new understanding of my complex family history, I felt more “connected,” and picked up my brushes again. I returned to working on my deck of 44 cards (started in 2023), and it felt light and somehow natural again. A strange turn of events!
Lately, to my surprise, I have started to crave painting with bright colours, for my own fulfilment and pleasure, particularly as I decluttered my office/ studio space. I think there are days when I feel reluctant to share my own artworks with the world, because every visual art expression is personal, right? I’m acknowledging that there’s a need in me to be the torch, shining the light on stories of other makers (@innlyte), but there’s an equal need to nurture the artist within me, and allow myself to be seen. I started to experiment with abstract art, with a lot of fear at the start. I was challenging my inner critic, who was whispering something along the lines of making serious/ realistic art to respect all those years in art school, rather than childlike, playful experiments. I managed not to listen and created a series of mixed media, collage, gouache, and embroidery thread artworks with a smile on my face, focusing on the idea that if the process of making them brings me genuine joy, it might bring similar feelings to the viewers and art collectors. I’ll share some visuals in the next article/ YouTube video.
It took me the whole evening to type this article, and it seems much longer than I had planned. I only recently discovered Substack and, tired of AI-generated content on other platforms, I decided to start investing my time and energy here instead (and YouTube). Instead of making this article even longer, I’m going to write a separate one about my ideas behind this publication and explain what I mean by "Pockets of Solitude".
