The rain cries a little pity for one more forgotten hero / and a world that doesn't care

Ok Diary, we need to talk. Relating to my previous post. I did some reflection in the darkness and realised that I am the light that must not be let to fade away. As long as there are warriors of the justice, peace and love the darkness will never conquer the light. And that’s what’s like the whole purpose of life.

As I was closing my website I checked the visitor count and it was 1215 individuals this year. Much, much more than I had thought. All over the planet. Me, dying or letting go of my practise would mean a small victory to the things I have fought against my whole life. Ever since scaring school bullies away from their victims when I was 6 to me going unarmed between a man hitting a woman in a tram to standing up against more abstract ideas like domestic violence. I cannot say it isn’t a lonely place, but what else would I do instead? Watch it and take selfies? 

For me, the work of an artist is to preserve humanity. Beyond one’s own. Give hope. Deliver beauty. Provoke thoughts. Ideas. It is not something you put a price tag on and add to your resume. I had just forgot that when I slowly began to understand that my works are impossible to sell. I had increasingly started believing that my value, as a human or an artist is to be measured in money. It is a sad, sad idea. While that thought took a deeper grip on me, I slowly drifted away from the main thing. Suddenly I was so far away from my practise, that I couldn’t even see it on the shore anymore, me being in a rowboat going to the wrong direction at the open sea. I missed my work, my practise, the people to whom I pull my 20-hour working days for - I had started thinking money. Money, like the most common and stupid agreement in the world. I would need it though, to be able to afford my physiotherapy that would eventually make me able to walk again without pain, so I forgive myself, the last time. I could have been anything, but I chose to become an artist. I thought I would be most useful in that profession. 

So the darkness, attack me with everything you have. I might bend, break and sometimes even lose my will to live along with my dying hope, but something is always greater than me, or my own little life and that's love. After fighting so long alone I have forgot that there are still many beside me.

While I was writing the previous paragraph, I got an email from a gallery in New York that they offer me a three weeks solo show free of charge. I am not sure is this the Christmas miracle but I suddenly feel like there’s much more hope in the world that I had ever thought.

So darkness. We have chatted before but you only ever make me come out brighter, shinier and more polished than before. So I’ll be seeing you around again.


(Listening to “Streets of London” by Ralph McTell, my favourite song year after year. It has been the main inspiration for my practise, ever since I could call my working that. There are so many we don’t look in the eye. I try to, in my work. And life, because I have been them.)

Blind Child (2014)

Blind Child (2014)