Category: This is my Story

Living in the Age of Envy.

Recently an acquaintance made the comment that they wished they could live my life. In this person’s eyes it seemed as if my life was perfect…great husband, happily married, beautiful house, dogs, horses, and creating art.
In the back of my mind I thought; Would you be willing to pay the price that I had to pay to get where I am now?

The black voice of death

Sometimes I despair, and I wish God was a Fairy God-mother with a magic wand. Just magicking it all away. But unfortunately, He doesn’t. He leads us into deeper waters so that we can learn to trust Him in the Storm.

Life isn’t perfect.

If you grew up in an alcoholic home, you never know what to expect from one day to the next. When one or both parents struggle with addiction, the home environment is predictably unpredictable

A Chat with The Artist

Weeping might last all night, but JOY comes in the morning.
A very personal and close interview with the artist.
Learn more about her story and why she paint what she does.

Storms of Anger

If you grew up in an alcoholic home, you never know what to expect from one day to the next. When one or both parents struggle with addiction, the home environment is predictably unpredictable

A Family of Orphans

If you grew up in an alcoholic home, you never know what to expect from one day to the next. When one or both parents struggle with addiction, the home environment is predictably unpredictable

Making Mistakes

Trying and failing is not wrong.
I’ve failed many times in my life. I’ve failed as an artist, a mother, a friend, a human. My failures have to lead me to new unknown shores. It’s only when we fail, that we can look back and learn. We don’t always learn from succeeding. We learn more from ‘the dark night of the soul’.

I have often doubted whether I should keep on painting. From being a 20 + year-old winner of the largest Fine Art competition in my country I descended in obscurity and depression. My life has not been easy. (Read about my life journey here!)

Little Girl With a Brave Heart: Part I

The coffee in my cup has gone cold, but the heat emanating from my hands is enough to trick my mind into thinking that it’s still hot enough to drink. It’s the sheer intensity of the story that causes my palms to feel hot and sweaty. Leonie continues at a pace that leaves me no time to come to terms with her thinking that she was to blame for the death of her stillborn.