What would a psychoanalyst likely be interpreting when getting this drawing into his hands? Under which category would I fall?
Whichever it is, it is rather a presumption. And in order to prevent any of those, here my truth 😉
It is December 2002. Christmas is approaching, and my mind is loaded with activities waiting ahead and laying behind. There is this photography book of my friend Michael, which mirrors African tribal life. One close-up photograph catches my focus. Fascinated by his delightful appearance, I pull out my magic pencil and let it fly over the sheet of paper. Right in this process an imagination of a hand arises, from which his face emerges. The head – big and empty still – I fill with my mind set full of travel adventures all around Europe. Experiences made in the European student association AEGEE pass in front of my inner eye, bringing up emotions stored deeply. The cowgirl in me, the cowboy hat on my shelf – both a must to find their way onto the paper. Where could be a better place than on the handsome African’s head? Nowhere. Done that, I see an imaginary whip cracking in a farm, so this one goes automatically inside it. Or maybe it’s the devil’s tale that somehow finds it’s way in here? How else could Earth and Heaven be connected by the Lightning that smoothly connects the hand and hat? Who knows… A woman’s presence is inevitable, since being it myself, I figure it a balance to placing my thoughts into an innocent African’s head. The dragon pops up by itself, reminding me my close connection to the stars. I AM A DRAGON, the mother of the Chinese zodiacs, after all. I admire well-built, naked men. I am surrounded by photographs with adorable male bodies, all over table, shelves, and walls. I can feel touching them simply by having a look at them. Logically, that the one posing right in front of me on my desk becomes the key element for the back of my hand.