It's my birthday next week (happy b'day, me! ✨) and I am again planning a fabulous party.
For me and for you.
I've made a habit that with every birthday I look at how my last year was and at how I'd want the next one to be - and this next year I want to make YOU (with your permission, of course!) a big part of my life.
I have huge, exciting, sparkling plans - and I will reveal them in the next two month, one by one.
Me and my art do not officially hold any category.
I have been repeatedly told (by some galleries, by some of the viewers of my art, by some fellow artists) that my art is too…. divers. Too colorful. Not colorful enough (in the early beginnings). Too busy. Too.. divers. Yes, I believe this is the one I have heard most.
Long ago it started with timid, pencil black and whites, on small papers, hiding under my technical drawings.
After a while I realized that I had no intention to use an erasing gum I went on and used drawing pens (took me a few years).
Then collage entered my life because I had moved to The Netherlands and I had discovered colored paper!!!
Last Monday I was again in the right place at the right time.. I feel really blessed and grateful when that happens.
I went with Victor to an "open day" for children older than 4 - at an inside climbing wall hall here in The Hague. He loved it at the beginning and wanted to have a climb but when the lesson actually started he did not want to know anything about it and did not want to wear the "under ware" that would hold him in the air. Thinking he would be inspired by other children I went with him to look at the lesson without taking part - and this was in another place than where we left our bag and stuff.
Probably also because of the noise (much echo in such places) and also because of some vibes only he could feel, V really started crying that he "wants back to the place where our stuff is" and after 2 minutes I listened and we went back (2 floors down on a spiral staircase). There it was, a baby carriage, closed with a blanket and from inside I could faintly hear an almost silent cry of a baby. I looked around, there was no parent in sight. I took the blanket away and wondered what to do, I started shouting and asking whose baby this was.. No answer, nobody knew. I could almost not believe it but I supposed that her parent, it was an 7-8 months old, was at the toilet.. The girl had a very big jacket around her and was sweating, had a very red face and was almost not breathing any more, she was making very faint sounds and could not move because she was buckled up.. After a few seconds of wondering if I will not get an angry parent screaming at me to leave their child alone (and thinking I would never ever ever leave my baby alone like that - anybody could just walk away with the baby, the door was wide open and close enough… ), I just took her out (it took me almost a minute with all the buckles and she was almost fainting.. In the mean time I asked a guy who worked there to go at the lesson (2 floors further) and ask if the parents were there.. He came back to say that indeed the mother was there, with two other children and she was in the middle of a climb with one of them, so actually she could not come and tend to the baby..
I held her for more than fifteen minutes and she gradually found her breath again.. That little body and she was almost gone.. I was almost crying myself!
When the mother came she said that a babysitter was supposed to come along but bailed without announcing - and it was not the first time.. "You need a new baby sitter", I said. And I wanted to say, I would've never let my child alone like this. I said "she could've died!" She said "thank you for your help".
I could see that she loved her babies to pieces.
I just would've made another choice than her.
I am so happy I was there to help this baby. And she was so so beautiful.
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I write about what makes me feel alive and shining: my work, art, love of life, sun, the sea, essential oils, my V-boy son, raw food and green smoothies.
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