When I step into my studio, everything begins with music—usually classical. As soon as the melancholic nocturnes of composers like Chopin or a beautiful symphony fill the air, the walls around me seem to vanish. Everyday reality gives way to a completely different realm of experience—a world of emotion, color, and movement.

In that world, I no longer paint with my intellect; instead, I let the violins or the piano guide my hand. I plan nothing; I simply follow the energy of the music. Only when the final note fades away and I step back I “land” once more in the here and now. Only then do I see what has emerged: a tangible memory of the journey I have just taken in solitude.

Afb. : Vague Memories nr. VII