Grey Obsession Painting

My name is Magdalena Brzeskot, I work under a pseudonym "Mia". I was born in 1975, I come from a small town Koszalin, located under the Baltic Sea in Poland. I'm a modest person, living in a complicated world, torn between tedious everyday life and powerlessness. I began my artistic career back in high school. I organised exhibitions and happenings, I was artistically active, and I tried to spend my time surrounded by other artists. It wasn't difficult, as I come from a family of artists. You may not believe, but it is difficult to live in the shadows of loved ones. I worked hard in school, in order to find success in this field. I was able to get into art college (not the one I wanted, but still success.) I worked even harder, I wasn't only talented, but also ambitious. College, art degree, awards and in the meantime assistantship. Professors considered me a promising acquisition, it was very flattering, I felt like my wings were growing. Then boom ! Interrupted my prose of life - pregnancy. I had to pick, career or being a mother. I chose the second one with hope that I will soon come back to my passion. Nothing could be more wrong. It took me about twenty years, with small episodes. My frustration grew all the time, I felt blamed, I putted so much effort in nothing. My dreams, my ambitious plans, dropped to a complete zero. Every attempt to create, built hate and disappointment, I don't have this "thing" anymore. The only support for all these years was my father, he would always say: "Work my child, work, the rest will come". Unfortunately he passed away too soon. And then my children supported me. They never stoped believing in me, and they always tried to motivate me. There was a turning point in my life, a tragedy and desperation. My mother had a stroke, she barely survived. She was losing her sight, after the accident even worse. When we sat together, she lying on a bed, paralysed, sometimes she spoked quite logical and other times she didn't. Me in her wheelchair, tired after a long journey. Jazz music was playing, and candles were burning in the room. I asked her: "Mom, do you even see me?", she grabbed my hand and said: "poorly, only your outline". An idea occurred to me, she fell asleep and I was thinking. Hence the idea for "The Outline" was born. People, characters, objects seen from my mother's perspective. Blurred outline. For the viewers, probably comprehensible, as imagination is hazy.