if ‘finished’ isn’t the end

Sometimes a work asks for a second round!

Sometimes a piece seems finished. It stands there, with all the layers, colors, and textures I've put into it. And yet, after a while, it starts whispering. Something feels off, or something is missing. As if it's inviting me to enter into dialogue once more.

That's when I dare to pick up my pencil, brushes, or fabric/thread again. I add new layers, erase parts, let fresh details emerge. It's not about destroying, but about continuing to grow. The work gains a second breath, a second round.

For me, works continue to live on, even after they seemed "done." They carry their history within them: the first impulse, the doubt, the stillness, and then suddenly the urge for change again. Every trace remains visible, and that's exactly what makes them layered and personal.

Taking distance, then looking again up close, searching until it feels right, until it resonates with me once more… this is a blissful period of experimenting, growing, and visually translating what lives inside me—but also of inner restlessness 🤪

The thought that art never truly stands still speaks to me. The work lives alongside me, grows with my gaze, my hands, my story. And sometimes… that is precisely the magic.

Maybe it's not only true for art 🤔 Sometimes life itself also asks for a second round. To look again, to grow further, until it feels right once more.