Andrea's Uploads

Zelfmedelijden is Dutch for Self-pity. The person is drowning in their own self-pity. They are depressed and poison themselves with their pity. It hurts, but is hard to stop. Addicted to pain. September 2019, acrylics on canvas

Wanhoop (Eng: despair) is a work I made last August/September. It's clay which was baked and afterwards painted with acryl and coated with some transparant nailpolish. To me it symbolises the depth of my depression. Despair.

Peacock. I made this for my grandma in 2018.

This is a self-portrait. I didn't use a mirror or a picture here. This is what I look like in my own memories. It's a bit misleading, I think I am skinnier than the drawing suggests, but that doesn't feel like me. I have been overweight for years and I feel like I am too skinny at the moment. I feel like I should be curvier like in the drawing. This is about body-image, body-dysmorphia even. I do have those clothes, glasses and haircut. This work is pastel on paper (it's quite big, but I don't have a measure closeby)

Shadows follow but I will move on! I have PTSD, so I am tormented by my past. Anxious for what's behind me. But I won't let that stop me! I may have "Lead in my shoes" (Dutch "Lood in mijn schoenen"), sometimes feel empty while on other times I am red from anger, nothing will stop me moving on. There will be temporary throwbacks, progress is not linear, but I will get there. I won't drown in self-pity this time.

I asked for help because I saw it coming. They didn't provide suitable help for me. It came, no-one listened and they tried to send me away to save my neighbours, but I stayed. Then, after everyone was gone, they listened. WHY? Just why isn't MY safety imporant enough? I've been reaching out for weeks here (for months, years elsewhere). Why do you try to save my neighbours but never me? It only came because my neighbours drove me insane and I triedt to keep it all in. WHY?

(In)secure Some days I put on my "business outfit". Just so I look like I got it together and then I will start feeling that way too. That is: until I become a wreck in a business suit. January 2020. Pastel on A3 paper

Self-portrait. I am practicing portraits from memory. I'm not satisfied with the eyes of this "Selfie", oh and the neck is too thin, but the rest is okay-ish?

First time oil pastel. Concepts and Hope: as a woman struggling with autism spectrum disorder I grew up not understanding basic concepts in the world around me. Maybe this is universal. I didn't understand why we had to go out to play in school for example, or I didn't understand other people might not be as honest as I always had been. A lot of concepts have a different meaning for someone like me. So here I am naked between the concepts, misunderstood but hopefully looking up. Maybe one day the world will be more like my ideals are, maybe I will create a circle around me of likeminded people, maybe the world will never change enough but I will find peace with myself. One day I will get peace, one way or another. Hope. Oh and yeah, it's a mess with the oil at the bottom. Does anyone have some ideas to improve my technique?

This is a work I made as a reaction to a questionaire about suicide. I got over it, but I have been there, done that. Despair, the feeling of drowning, reaching out but never getting the help you need, deep dark depression, the grey-brown brainfog. Yet: there is some light, there always is, but I'm too scared to look at the light. I didn't varnish this pastel-drawing, just to accentuate the fragility of mental health. What you need to know it that I got out of this and so can you if you are this deep in trouble. I'm doing much better. January 2020, pastel on A3 paper.

Must Survive. My neighbour is triggering one of my trauma's at the moment. Sometimes all you can do is survive, sit through and wait for it to stop. Resist. I have to be strong. My neighbour will stop (hopefully before I go to bed).

I am composed. I am more than just a label. Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes anxious (well more than just sometimes), sometimes playful, sometimes sad, sometimes brace, sometimes even too brave, sometimes creative, sometimes numb, sometimes... Oh by the way, I got a bipolar II diagnosis, for context. March 2020. Pastel on Canson cotton, honeycomb surface paper (32cmx24cm).

Sunset. I made this work while I was searching for innerpeace and to reconnect with my feelings. It's pastel on paper (I think 60x80?)

I made this as a reminder for myself. My past and my environment might hurt me, but inside I am safe, I am enough, I am okay, I am minee. I'm experiencing hard times with trauma and other stuff, so I needed a reminder for myself. This is on my door now. I covered up some personal details, the white blobs. March 2020. Pastel on paper.

The Garden of Ede. I sat down at the dining table and drew the garden from that perspective. The city is called Ede. It was on the 9th of December on a rainy day. Typical Dutch weather.

In barren wintermonths you may start to wonder if spring will ever come again. Yes it does. Plants already have done their preparations. Life will be on earth till the sun dies down, people might not. Nature has it's ways, but those might not involve humans per se.