I left my childhood in the governmental  youth care system  with highly complex and intractable issues surrounding gender, identity, background, and future. Without any qualifications and without ever truly being allowed to participate in a social life, I was like a rudderless ship, with only one goal: to become what had been forbidden, punishable, fought against, and almost completely suppressed in my youth: being a boy. Nothing in my life became so important because this was not only who I had never been, but also felt like my only gender. My desire for a different gender (boy) wasn't because I was born a girl like transgender people experience , but as a reaction to the bizarre and violent circumstances in foster care. My goal in life, discovering my gender, simultaneously blocked any form of free expression.

This left me completely socially isolated, and when I first started drawing and painting between 1992 and 1997, this creative outlet was essentially nothing more than a form of processing. The 450 works from that period were almost all destroyed in 2002, out of shame or because I feared they could be misinterpreted.

A fixed style, a fixed theme, a single technique, a fixed medium never materialized. My creativity was as rudderless as I was, a kind of convulsion, as if life had no direction whatsoever. After many difficult periods, I sought help in vain—not briefly, but intensively for more than twenty years. But help and guidance would never arrive for the complex problems of my childhood and the consequences, unknown and denied by society. I often felt as if I had come from a distant planet with experiences barely imaginable on Earth.

My story of intense psychological pain, a lifelong search for recognition and existence, is not streamlined and plays out in the vacuum of loneliness and social isolation. This is always visible in my work: a mix of longing, pain, and an inability to imagine what my story is truly about. Many of my works seem so disconnected, while in reality, they form one complex narrative. Perhaps I lack a solid education, perhaps triggers still dominate my life.

Illustratively, much of my imagination revolves around boys, as the paradox of an unattainable identity as both child and adult—perhaps also a logical consequence of the lifelong lack of any form of support or connection, and the exclusion from, for example, the LGBTQ+ movement until 2023.

Hopefully, my images can contribute to the discussion about who is and isn't recognized, who apparently may or may not be acknowledged in their deepest feelings, who may or may not receive protection, who may or may not be treated by mental health services for mental health issues. Who ultimately counts as a human being in society, and who doesn't.