When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a detective, archaeologist, and artist when I grew up.
Those three trajectories have somehow woven themselves together inside me, even without my planning it so.
Over the last couple of years, my art has sidelined (aka exploded) for the most part into inspired creativity from a vortex rooted into a time over 70 years ago.
I don't talk about it much publicly, because there is no language to describe the world I visit through my art.
Also, I carry some self-judgment ... shouldn't I be making art that makes people happy(ish)?
Art based on war, and a whopping world war at that ... it's a little intense. So I tend to hide the art and the topic away, mostly.
BUT ... I think I'm tired of hiding. Tomorrow I am doing something very exciting.
I'm getting on a plane and heading over to Europe to dig full-throttle with my hands and heart and soul and brain into my biggest passion: the history of the Second World War, and the humans who lived a full spectrum of possibilities, choices, and experiences.
Every time I go to Europe, I dive into this topic ... I kinda can't help it.
But this trip is dedicated to my art exclusively, not jangled and squeezed in around other things.
So, why on earth is a girl like me so passionate (aka obsessed) about such a devastating topic, with endless layers of tragedy, grief and horrific violence?
I've always had a soft spot for the shadowy side of life ... and this topic?
It's more relevant than many of us would care to believe.