Why I Paint Today

Sometimes people ask me why I paint.

The simple answer would be: Because I have always painted.

But the true answer goes much deeper.

Even as a child, I drew and painted. While others were playing, worlds, stories, and images were taking shape in my mind. Art was always there. It was never something I had to discover. It was simply part of who I was.

And yet, my path initially led me in a different direction. For many years, I worked as a coach, helping people understand themselves more deeply, recognize old patterns, and find their own path. This work was meaningful and valuable. But throughout all those years, art remained a quiet companion.

Today, I often sit outside our Unimog.

In front of me, there may be a lake, a forest, or a wide view across the landscape. I watch animals. I listen to the wind. I lean against a tree and notice what that moment awakens within me.

While many people see nature primarily as a beautiful landscape, I experience it as a living space filled with wisdom.

The more time I spend outdoors, the more strongly I feel something that is difficult to put into words.

It is a remembrance.

A remembrance that we humans are part of nature. That we carry a primal strength within us. That we are able to feel, perceive, and know intuitively.

In our modern world, it is easy to lose touch with this. We are busy. We think a great deal and feel very little. We function instead of truly being present.

And yet, everywhere I go, I encounter things that remind me.

A deer at the edge of the forest.
A raven accompanying me for part of my journey.
An owl gliding silently through the twilight.
An ancient tree that has stood in the same place for centuries.

For me, such encounters are more than passing moments. They remind me to slow down, to listen, and to reconnect.

Perhaps that is why, a few years ago, I made a decision.

I promised myself that at the end of my professional life, I did not want to say:

“I wish I had painted more.”

I did not want to have been only a coach.

I wanted to be an artist.

Not someday.
Now.

That is why I paint.

My paintings grow from everything that moves me — from nature, encounters, journeys, observing animals, memories, dreams, and inner images.

But when I begin to paint, the finished image is not already determined. I work intuitively, allowing colors, shapes, and structures to emerge. Gradually, figures, animals, plants, and symbols begin to reveal themselves. Often, it is only during the painting process — or even afterwards — that I understand the story a work carries within it.

The stories within my paintings are not invented. They are discovered.

For me, every painting is an invitation.

An invitation to remember something that is already within us.

Our connection with nature.
Our inner wisdom.
Our primal strength.

Perhaps that is the true reason why I paint today.

Not simply to decorate walls.

But to make visible what we may already know deep within ourselves — and perhaps have only forgotten.