As Time Stands Still – How Do We Create?About Art and Grief

Grief is a landscape of shadows, a twisted path through uncertain terrain.

My grandmother, my guiding light, my mother in every way, left an unfillable void when she passed. The weight of her loss still feels like a mountain, making it hard to breathe.

As I navigate this darkness of sorrow, I am slowly discovering that art is not just a form of expression but a lifeline. The world may not always understand the time it takes to heal, but in the silence, I am finding my voice, my vision and my path.

As an artist, I found myself struggling to create. The colours that once danced on my palette now seem dull and awkward. The landscapes I once painted with such joy and abandon feel like distant memories, a world away from the pain lodged in my heart and soul.

The mountains I paint are no longer the majestic snow-capped peaks I once loved to depict. When I look at the canvas now, they are twisted and gnarled, the skies grey and foreboding. Yet in this distorted world I find a strange sense of solace. It is as if art itself allows me to navigate the treacherous terrain of my emotions.

The imprint my grandmother left on my heart and soul is deep and abiding. Her loss has left a gaping hole in my life. But as I slowly find my path to healing, I am reminded of the Japanese art of Kintsugi, where broken ceramics are mended with gold. The cracks and scars are not erased but highlighted as a testament to the beauty of imperfection.

Like the Kintsugi process, my heart is slowly being mended, the fractures filled with the gold of memories, the patina of love and loss. The art I am creating now is a reflection of both love and loss.

The brushstrokes are bold yet tender, the colours muted yet rich. My landscapes are not perfect, they are imperfect like the broken ceramics. The cracks and scars remain visible, a reminder of the pain, but also of the beauty that can emerge from it.

In loving memory of my grandmother

Wanda Kariin

Born 26.02.1935

Passed away 03.09.2025

Writing and Art

I believe that words are a necessary part of us and of life itself. They remind us, inspire us and puzzle us. They reflect the depths of our emotions, the complexity of our thoughts and the beauty of our experiences.

As I write short stories and poems, I find that the words I choose are like brushstrokes on a canvas, painting vivid landscapes in the minds of my readers.

Every landscape has its own atmosphere, its climate, its unique light, and so do words. Some words are warm and golden, evoking feelings of comfort and nostalgia. Others are sharp and cool, cutting through the noise and demanding attention.

As I write, I am acutely aware of the tone, the texture, the rhythm of the words. I am drawn to the way they interact, the way they dance on the page and the way they evoke emotions in those who read them.

My art is an extension of this love for words. I see each piece as a visual poem, a symphony of colours, shapes and textures that evoke a mood, a feeling or a story. Just as words have their own atmosphere, each landscape I create has its own unique energy.

I am drawn to the way light falls on a particular scene, the way colours blend and contrast and the way composition guides the viewer’s eye.

For me, writing and art are two sides of the same coin. Both are about capturing the essence of the human experience, exploring the depths of our emotions and creating something that resonates with others. Whether through words or images, I am always searching for the perfect balance of form and feeling, of structure and spontaneity.

And I will keep writing, keep exploring, one word at a time, one landscape at a time. For in the end it is not just about the words, but about the worlds they create, the connections they forge and the secrets they help me discover within.