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What if your mind never stopped creating…

…even when you begged it to?

There’s so much going on in my head, I can barely keep up with it. No matter how many oil paintings or sketches I create, there’s always more — more thoughts, more ideas, more stories waiting to be expressed. And when life gets hectic, those unspoken thoughts are like a quiet way of keeping me grounded. Because what I create feels like something I can hold on to. In the beginning, there's a sense of control. But as I begin, I let go, and slowly, something else takes over.

The problem is, I struggle to stay in the present. Even when I’m doing something simple, a part of my mind is already asking: What can I turn this into? How can this become art? And it’s not even intentional. It’s automatic.

After burning out at the end of 2024 and spending this year trying to find some balance again, I really thought I was finally finding my way back. But if I’m being honest, I hadn’t. I found myself yet again in the same endless cycle of creating and meeting deadlines. After finishing exhibitions in July, I made a promise to myself: August would be for rest. For healing. For doing nothing.

But as soon as the quiet came… so did the restlessness.

How do you do nothing?

How do you rest when even watching a movie or scrolling through your phone feels like a waste of time unless it somehow sparks inspiration? I started only watching things that might feed my creativity. Or I’d just let background noise play while I sketched — stuck again in the loop, even though there were no deadlines.

Then I heard something on a podcast. Just a passing comment, but it made me slow down for a second:

“What would you create if no one was watching? If there were no expectations, no career, no audience?”

I’d asked myself that question before and I always knew the answer. I’d still paint. But this time, something else spoke louder. It wasn’t about sharing my private life, but about sharing what’s in my head. The things that inspire me, move me, and lead me to create. A way to open a window into my thought process — but one that doesn’t take days or weeks to complete like an oil painting. Something immediate. A release.

I’ve never been great at speaking in the moment, and I tend to isolate myself. I’m not quick with words in conversations, and switching between German and English can sometimes be a challenge. But writing feels different. It gives me the space to think and express myself more clearly. I’ve always tried to put feelings into words, especially when it’s hard to say them out loud.

The Sketchbook is something I do for myself. It’s a collection of everything that inspires me, the things I’m curious about, and the obsessions or nerdy interests I dive into. Maybe someone else will find something in it that speaks to them or sparks their own curiosity, or maybe not.