A Journey Through the Vacuum: The Creative Path of Jimmy

Early Suppressions
My creative journey began in a residential home between the ages of two and four, where I was first allowed to draw with oil pastels. I loved the act of creation; it was there that I also began writing my first words. However, the fragile peace of those early years shattered upon entering foster care. At five, my attempts at creativity were met with contempt. I vividly remember when I was eight: I had drawn a simple squirrel. My foster parents tore it to pieces before my eyes, labeling me a "sin." "All art on earth must be destroyed," they declared. They suppressed my spirit, and though creativity survived in the quiet of the woods or beyond their reach, expressing it became an almost impossible act of defiance.

The First Eruption (1992–1997)
At thirty, the dam finally broke. Using cheap acrylics meant for model airplanes and painting on wood because I couldn’t afford canvas, I began to create. I painted many portraits of infants and toddlers—until February 1993. The horrific news of the James Bulger murder shattered my worldview. The perceived safety I found in the innocence of boys evaporated. What followed was a three-year period of relentless flashbacks. My own childhood surfaced in fragments—intrusions of unfinished images and veiled memories. It felt as if I were truly living for the first time, yet my world was splitting further apart. In a feverish attempt to map these inner worlds, I created 450 artworks between 1992 and 1997.

Labels and Erasure
The intensity of these flashbacks led me to seek therapy in Amsterdam. For four years, I navigated a clash of emotions, feeling as though I belonged nowhere—a life permanently fractured. My work from this time reflected this: it was simultaneously beautiful and repulsive, lovely and jarring. After being diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder and other labels, my creative output seemed to cool. I moved away, desperate to forget the past and perform a version of 'normalcy.' In 2002, consumed by fear of what I had created and unable to explain its depth, I destroyed almost the entire collection of 450 works. Only a few photographs remain.

The Search for Identity
In the mid-2000s, I sought connection through nature art, primitive weaving, and glass mosaics. It was during this time that "Jimmy" emerged—a self-portrait of a seven-year-old boy who wanted to grow up which became me.  Jimmy became my non-binary name, my true identity. Despite this breakthrough, the cycle of trauma continued. Hundreds of drawings about my childhood were created, only to be destroyed again in 2019. I tried to conform, to make ‘decent art’—portraits and landscapes that society could digest. But I failed. Without access to mental health care for over two decades, the necessity to create from my own reality became undeniable. I had to follow the worlds I inhabited with Tim, Alex, and the others.

Collaboration and the Counter-Archive (2021–Present)
A profound shift occurred in 2021: Tim and Alex began to participate directly in the creative process. I was no longer alone in my art. As a member of the Fantastike Studio in Maastricht, we exhibited our collaborative work at the Bonnefantenmuseum and the On the Edge exhibition. I established my Identity Restoration Studio to explore the stolen boyhood of the state-owned child, producing a vast series of pastel portraits, depicting a queerness of identity in childhood. Between 2019 and 2025, this urge culminated in over 1,200 works.

The Ongoing Testimony
My creativity is inexhaustible. Though I still feel the social pressure to create ‘nice’ things, the urge to reveal the world of trauma is always stronger. Creativity has taught me to externalize the internal, to turn a fragmented past into a coherent narrative of reflection and communication. Together with Tim, Alex, and recently two-year-old Sven, I will continue to portray our shared stories. This is our voice against erasure; this is our life in the vacuum, made visible.