The First Brushstroke – Where It All Began
Even as a child, I felt I was different from others.
I saw the world differently. I noticed the colors, the shapes, the light — and somewhere deep inside, I knew that creating would be the language I truly speak.
I was twelve when it all really began.
My father was a painter. He never went to art school — he taught himself because he admired artists and their ability to turn emotions into images.
He worked from home, painting for a gallery. I would sit nearby and watch him.
The smell of the paint, the texture of the canvas, the rhythm of his brush — all of it awakened something in me.
It felt like coming home.
Soon, I began taking art lessons to prepare for the entrance exam to an art high school. I dreamed of getting in — of proving my talent.
My father offered to help, said he knew someone who could get me in.
But I refused. I didn’t want to enter through connections.
I wanted to be chosen for my drawings, for what I could do — not for who I knew.
That choice came with a price.
I wasn’t accepted.
Even today, I still feel that back then, talent wasn’t always what mattered — but who you knew, or how much you could pay.
And that was hard to accept.
But my stubbornness, my integrity — staying true to myself — became one of my greatest strengths.
Then my parents divorced.
It shook me deeply, and I didn’t know how to process it.
I ran away from home. In high school, I became rebellious.
Still, art never left me. It stayed — quietly — a faithful companion.
I even had exhibitions during those years. Each painting carried an emotion I couldn’t yet speak out loud.
After graduation, I fell in love with photography.
It became another way to express what I saw and felt.
I studied photography, worked in a photo lab, captured weddings — freezing moments that told stories.
In 2006, I moved to Austria with my partner.
A new life, a new country, a new chapter.
I worked many jobs — as a cleaner, a cook, and more.
It wasn’t easy, but every experience shaped me.
Then my son was born — the brightest part of my life.
Art took a backseat for many years, but it never disappeared.
It was always there, quietly waiting.
Later, I completed a graphic design school — because even when I wasn’t painting, I was still searching for ways to create.
And deep down, I always knew: one day, I’d return to my art.
Because that’s who I am. That’s what gives me life.
We’ve been living in Austria since 2006.
A lot has changed — and so have I.
But the girl who picked up a brush at twelve is still here.
She’s stronger now, braver, and finally ready to say:
