This article discusses artistic development, feedback, autonomy, and my new project for a creative partnership.
My grandmother on my mother's side, whom I never knew, was said to be quite a feminist. Together with my grandfather, who was already vegetarian by upbringing, she adopted the lifestyle. She even marched for women's suffrage around 1914—or perhaps it was my great-grandmother.
While this familial history inspires me, I reflect on another kind of struggle—the era of scientific rigour and existentialism that overshadowed my youth. It was a time when critical thinking felt ruthless, particularly in art and creativity. These influences sometimes shaped me harshly and made my creative spirit feel stifled.
I recently rediscovered a book by Marijke Höwler at a free book exchange at the supermarket. It reminded me of the struggles of that time but also offered some clarity. With its lessons now refreshed in my mind, I'm ready to recycle it into my collage projects—a small but satisfying act of closure.
In my youth, I wanted to belong to the avant-garde, but it felt like a club where kindness wasn't welcome. Everything was torn down, criticized to the bone. There was no space for hope or gentleness, especially not for my creative side. Worse still, I absorbed that same ruthless attitude and directed it inward.
When I played Polly in a production of Brecht's The Threepenny Opera, I spearheaded the entire project—from assembling the cast and orchestra to involving our vocal coach. My passion for Brecht, inherited from my father, drove me. Yet, on the big day, I was so overwhelmed with nerves that I lost my lines and couldn't recover.
The local paper compared my performance to Lotte Lenya, a German diva known for her expressive but unconventional delivery. Looking back, it wasn't the worst review, but it felt like a crushing failure at the time. I couldn't even share this small success with my mother, who had always wanted to see me shine.
Today, I reflect on those experiences with a mix of gratitude and lessons learned. Through it all, I've realized that striving for something unique inevitably invites criticism. It demands a certain independence of thought—an essential quality for any artist.
But independence alone isn't enough. Creating art that truly resonates requires courage: courage to face criticism, share your work, and embrace the imperfections. For me, the commercial side of art remains uncharted territory—perhaps out of fear that criticism will resurface when I take that leap.
Yet, I see now that fear isn't a good enough reason to hold back. It's time to step forward, explore new paths, and embrace the possibilities. Perhaps the answer lies not just in individual effort but in shared creativity.
How thrilling is this? The key to mastering independence and collaboration might be forming an artistic duo with my husband! This daring decision will lead to exciting challenges on balancing criticism and incredible personal growth. Get ready for the thrilling story!
It will be an exciting journey!