Briefly. But forever

I arrived in Sweden in 2023 — on Valentine's Day.The journey was difficult, and sometimes I just wish I could forget the reason behind it.Through the SWEDISH ARTIST RESIDENCY NETWORK, we were hosted for several months by a wonderful family living in the Skåne region. That’s where our paths crossed. I am deeply grateful to fate for such a generous gift.

Over time, you realize: the real value isn’t in things, but in people — those who enter your life so you may briefly meet. Oh, how my soul misses some of them.Partings have always been painful for me.

The studio became my home, and the home became my studio. In fact, this is my very first studio as a “real” artist. Until now, I used to paint wherever I could — in a house, in a small apartment, on the floor, in the kitchen — wherever I could find a quiet corner.

Having a studio isn’t just important. It’s more than a place. It feels like an extension of yourself — your body, your thoughts. A safe capsule where you experience everything:

joy, pain, frustration, inspiration, despair, disappointment. All of it.

Anders has a large studio, and we all share the space together. He paints as well, and Evalotta is passionate about ceramics. And there — I have my own little corner. For me, it's a kind of celebration to have this space. There’s so much in it. This is where I’m learning to confront my fears. Truly — face them.

Art, in my life, seems to carry a very personal, therapeutic purpose. It’s not about success or recognition. Maybe the hardest part is simply admitting that to myself. Maybe that’s why it’s difficult for me to show my work in big, public spaces. I don’t feel like they’re commercial. They feel like raw, handwritten pages from my diary. Maybe it sounds grand — but for me, it's a huge step. I’m learning. And everything that lives inside me ends up in them. They feel like living fragments of fear, of inadequacy, of imperfection — of imitation, even — the longing to be someone else.

Though I think every artist says that about themselves. Everyone is searching for their voice.

I’m learning to search for my own voice, my own handwriting.

And here, too, I’m afraid — afraid of meeting myself. What if I don’t like what I see? For now, I keep that part of me quiet. It’s strange — how you want to scream, but at the same time, you press your own hand over your mouth, just to keep even a whisper from slipping out. Because — what if they judge you? And people only need the smallest excuse, or so it seems to me, watching this world.

That’s why it’s so important to have a refuge — in people, or in a place.I want so much to preserve this time, to seal it somehow.It feels like the happiest time in my life.I feel accepted here. And it’s beautiful — truly beautiful.

Everything is in balance.This is lagom, in its purest form.There is silence, calm, nature — few people, no rush.Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one here.No urgency. No pressure. And it quiets my anxiety.The city is close, if I need it.But here — the sea is near. And for me, that’s a luxury.A true luxury — to have all of this.

Right now, I feel like I’m on the run.As if I’ve reached the edge of the world —a place where no one can find me.Not people. Not events.

It feels like so much happened,I didn’t even notice the path I was running along.And I ran fast — slamming doors behind me.Just to make sure I wouldn’t hurt anyone with my presence —or be hurt in return.

It was so easy to cut all ties.But still, I needed everyone.Still, I loved them.And yes — that hurts.But that’s just how I’m built right now

Thank you to this magical place and its studio —for becoming a home.How long it will last, time will tell.But I love this place — deeply, fiercely.Words don’t do it justice.

It’s become such a powerful feeling,that sometimes I’m afraid —afraid to open my eyes one day,and realize it was just a dream.That I’ve woken up back home,in my old bed,with tape still crisscrossing the window.