Art is in my blood, as many as six of my uncles and aunts on my father's side were visual artists. In my teens, I was captivated by the atmosphere and the creative process in their studios, where I liked to hang out. But I made little myself, my creativity was blocked. Once grown up, I carried boxes full of paint from the cellar from one house to the attic of the next. Those boxes were not allowed to leave, because I would do something with them sometime... It was only after the trauma processing that I picked up the paintbrush for the first time.