Newyork Hiroshima shared grief Drawing by Martine Jacobs

Biography of Martine Jacobs The fact that my father was a designer and my mother his regular model has shaped both my character and my creativity. As a young child I would wander around my father’s large studio, with twelve girls and twelve industrial sewing machines that zoom the entire day. The drawing room was not always forbidden territory, and sometimes I could enter the sanctuary. Large drawing tables and enormous sheets of paper, rolls of fabrics from all parts of the world adorned this big space. The dream queen who pricked. Hugging my mother was out of the question, because as usual, she was full of pins. My father designed his clothes on my mother’s body. The dream queen who pricked. One day the bubble of this creative décor burst, and everyone went their own way. Jesus and his brides I spent my adolescent years among Jesus and his brides in an old Catholic boarding school. Confined, and only home on weekends, I dreamed the paintings I later made. Erotic attic With my man on my 17th birthday, I decided to take control of my life. I exchanged the convent for an erotic attic. Fortune smiled on us and the world was ours. We worked to put bread on our plates and roamed the earth between jobs. There was no money for paint; we swapped a loaf of bread for my first box of pastels. New challenges Thumbing and riding trains to Portugal, the unknown land of warmth and beauty. twenty years old, for the first time a few pastel works hang in the little old church of Obidos, a Portuguese village on the coast. Here we sold our first painting. It became the primary necessity of life; we inspired one another’s spirits and constantly sought new challenges. We made many paintings and sold a few. Back to Holland to the College of Social Studies, but what now – we were at a crossroads. Do we opt for security – life in the suburbs – or do we create a world that connects to our thinking; a captive soul will never be able to create. There is always a choice, but a free spirit cannot be captured, not even with poverty as a friend. California And so we traveled again, new ideas abounding, and the new world smiled upon us. With a box of chalk and a newborn baby, we booked a trip to America: California. We bought a 45-year-old Chevrolet camper and traveled through the country in good spirits. Between feedings and dirty diapers we visited galleries and museums and finally landed in Carmel Valley.