At the end of the last winter semester, I was feeling unsatisfied with my work. I felt I had learned a great deal about illustration, but I didn’t feel it had a point. I felt like everything I created was boring, pointless, perhaps a waste of time, space and energy. All of this caused me to worry about my future.
A sketchbook isn’t really the place for finished work. It is a place for practice and for collecting memories. Mistakes are allowed, because, by making mistakes, you learn how to get better (or better ways to hide them).
When I was a child I suffered from nightmares. I would lie awake at night terrified to be alone in the dark room but also afraid of falling asleep. I would dream of animals killing my family, of strange men crawling into my bed and… Read More
Our relationship with our smartphones is complicated. So, when I saw my phone slide out of my slightly too loose grasp and fall into the cup of coffee I was holding in my other hand, I was filled with equal amounts of panic and relief.
Rain is pouring in torrents outside. Long corridors with high ceilings. Students smoking in the hallways. Light-flooded rooms filled with a selection of artwork. Metal sinks overflowing with flowers.
The city wakes from its hibernation.
It is the 16th of February, the sun creeps out and warms our faces. A friend comes to visit from a different city and I show her around Münster. The sun is shining, it has put on its best face.
How can it already be 2019? This number sounds like the future. January 2018 feels so far away and I am definitely a slightly different person now. I hope that I have got a little wiser, but I doubt it, for some reason.