Back to these pages after a very long pause. Where do I start after a silence of three years?

What about right here, right now? This utterly indescribable, ever-changing instant, when we are one with all there is, inside and around us. A deep dive, a dissolution into both void and fullness. My senses dialog with my attentive presence: city noises in the background, birds chirping, the warmth of the first rays of sun after a long winter, the intoxicating Spring scents flowing from the garden. I wish I could put them all in a little jar, and shake it every now and then, like a snow globe, to let the magic flow again.

Of course there is no place big enough to store this whole universe pouring in, yet some part of me irrepressibly vows to honour the moment and drives me to find some way to make it last, as some kind of nourishment for harsher days. And this is not meant for my little self who can only be disappointed at what it is able to produce. Something else urges me to try nevertheless and return to the blank page again and again. Never an easy meeting! It rather feels like a terrifying blind date. Here I am in my studio, trying to solve the toughest riddle: how do I reproduce the wonder of now once it has fled away like a butterfly in the blue sky? How do I translate, express and convey what was once so important for me, where do I find it and what trace has it left? And why on earth is it so compelling for me to act upon this, putting all other matters behind?

Artists constantly surf on the waves of sensations. One after the other these rise and vanish. Creativity is much like surfing, craving and patiently looking for the bigger waves. But these are not so easy to ride. Sometimes they throw you to the bottom. Art is not for sissies, but a path of hard work learned by trial and error at every moment. Our best chance is to remain ready to try again. And again. A big part of the adventure is spent observing inside and out of ourselves, sorting our way out, back and forth towards form and expression, investigating “yes” and “no”, what feels right and yummy – or not. This will determine what makes a piece truly unique. If we let them, our hands and heart will unite and figure things out. The challenge is to stay in balance between playing innocently and being freely, and fiercely serious about it all.

Treasures of the moment can be anything from euphoric to tragic and funny in between or above it all. They might not necessarily be dealt with at once and often go straight to our secret cabinet of curiosities. Items there will wait for their moment to shine and potentially come back to life. Unless they are woken up by twists of fate or awkward visitors, most are left to dry and fade, without ever reaching out to the owner’s consciousness again. The artist’s inner child makes sure the important pieces are never forgotten and they will keep showing up in whatever colour, sound and form.

Art is a surprisingly universal, innate language that procures precise GPS coordinates to our internal roadmaps. Some special pieces create a magic spell, as if hidden keys were embedded, opening the gates of memory and emotion for others as well. When they manage to hit the truth of the moment precisely, they remain true forever, defying oblivion and escaping the prisons of time.

We all have stories to tell. Sometimes we feel urged to try and do something about them. Artists are the ones who cannot help but act upon the Colour of Now and open windows between the present and what once felt so real. It is their way to help the world feel seen and somehow deeply understood, offering a form of healing for immemorial wounds.

So, what is the colour of Now as I write these lines? A rainbow perhaps, continuously carrying me over the horizon.