Looking back, creating art has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. To most of those who know me, it’s no surprise I ended up living the vida loca as an artist. After a long and winding road I finally found my true calling ten years ago.
Back in the Days
As I remember them, my early years of childhood seem to be quite lighthearted and enjoyable. Back in the days, young children growing up in the countryside were normally playing outside with friends, while their parents were tending livestock, working the fields or taking a nap after dinner.
I really enjoyed my own company and had lots of freedom and long hours of roaming the hoods, trying to figure out life’s mysteries and searching for fun.
The Tiny Artist
My dad had plenty of tools, so at the age of 4 the tiny artist was stone carving day after day, fully determined to become a sculptor and make gigantic statues. A few weeks later I gave up because I couldn’t find stones that would let me form them the way I wanted; the materials were either too hard or too soft. And my wrists were really hurting from all the hammering.
Then I tried working with clay from the nearby seashore without significant success.
Sadly my carpentry didn’t come out like I wanted, either – so I went back to drawing, encouraged by Grandma who was happy to model for me every day.
First Art Exhibit
At the age of 5 I had my first art exhibit in Grandma’s house. All the neighbors were invited and Grandma served coffee and homemade cookies.
To my big surprise I sold my first drawing. And Grandma told everyone that I was going to become an artist.
Years passed by
Through adolescence I was sketching, drawing and writing for hours every night. I hardly had time to sleep. At 16 life took a new turn. Years passed by; life was filled with schoolwork, sports, friends and parties.
Good years, by all means, but my creative spirit was not nurtured except for a few lucky hours every now and then. Some nights I skipped sleeping, or I couldn’t sleep at all, because my brain was in creative mode.
Dreamt I was painting
Night after night I dreamt I was painting large canvases with bold marks and vivid colors; weird and wonderful abstract motives. They say that what you dream of, over and over again, is telling you to pay attention to that theme in your waking life. That your subconscious is trying to connect you to something that’s important for you.
So I tried watercolor and ink, but didn’t quite get the expression I wanted. I tried oil painting and hated the smell, but OMG! was I the most popular girl roaming the bars for a few weeks with oil paint in my hair and stains on my hands…
Photography was a lot of fun, but I never got around to apply for studies in New York. And since Bergen was totally out of the question I started working again. And all of a sudden I was caught up in Family Life, university studies and coaching handball. Time flies when you’re having fun!
The Local Art School
At 50 I discovered the local art school. Half way through my second day in summer class at Nydalen Kunstskole, I had kind of a spiritual awakening – a feeling of being connected with something I’ve been looking for my whole life. I finally had found my true calling and that autumn I attended art school.
Sometimes, dreams come true or tell of a future event.