My Journey as a Self Taught Artist: Creation, Destruction, and Rebirth

How My Journey Began

In 1992, I suddenly began to paint. There was no clear reason, no dramatic moment of inspiration — it simply happened. I had very little money, so I used cheap oil paint and wooden panels instead of canvases. But despite the limitations, something opened inside me. Between 1992 and 2002, I created around 450 paintings and large drawings, some up to 1.50 × 1.50 meters.

Then, almost all of it was destroyed.

Creating art in social isolation is far from ideal. It affects both life and creativity. Yet in 2004, I started again: nature‑based work, weaving, drawings, glass mosaic sculptures, unusual 3D objects. And again, in 2018, most of that work was destroyed too.

Entering the Art World at 57

In 2020, for the first time in my life, I was able to attend an art school. As a child, under extreme circumstances, art education was impossible. So entering an art school later in life felt like a rare chance to connect with what people call “the real art world.”

At age 57, I visited a museum for the very first time.

It felt surreal. I grew up being told that museums and cultural events were “from the devil,” that they should be burned and destroyed. Walking into a museum as an adult felt like stepping into a forbidden world. I learned from old masters and contemporary artists, but I also noticed something striking: my experiences, my themes, my identity were nowhere to be found.

I realized I had always lived in a separate world — a niche outside society. And I asked myself: Do I even want to belong to their world? On their terms?

Living Outside the Norm: Identity, Rejection, and Strength

Throughout my life, I have been one of “those people” — the ones who are excluded, misunderstood, or pushed aside. Even in a shared studio for people with a mental‑health background, I remained an outsider. Not belonging became a constant.

But being different is not a weakness. In outsider art, it is a source of power.

For decades, I was rejected by the LGBT community, even threatened by some trans people because of my gender and identity — something they didn’t understand. It was painful, but it also revealed something important: my niche has always existed, whether society accepted it or not.

And that niche became the drive to create.

Why I Continue to Make Outsider Art

I make art every day — not as a hobby, not to create something “nice,” but to express myself and to exist somewhere without judgment. My work grows from a different world, a different identity, a different life. It is raw, personal, and unapologetically outside the norm.

Even if no one ever saw my work, it would still be a victory — a triumph over those who once tried to erase my creativity completely. It is like walking a tightrope in a quiet forest after being told you are too broken to walk at all.

I create because existing outside the norm is my freedom.