The search for creativity
Back in 2018 I was working fulltime as a coordinator and studyadvisor at Erasmus University Rotterdam and I was desperately looking for something to do outside of work that required another part of my brain.
I used to be creative when I was little (both my parents and my brother also are very creative people up until this day) and I knew I wanted something that sparked that part of me again. At first I actually thought I would find it in music, because music has always been one of my greatest loves, so I took singing lessons. I really thought it to be the solution to this piece I was missing in my days, but it wasn’t. I liked it, but it didn’t stick enough. It didn’t spark that flame that I was looking for, one that could burn for the rest of my life. (Looking back, I realize I was searching for a lifelong companion—something that was mine, that I could turn to, and that no one else had anything to do with.)
Then, after googling ‘painting in Rotterdam’, I stumbled upon Solko Schalm and I messaged him, inquiring about his weekly painting lessons. He replied so quickly that I barely had time to think, and before I knew it, I had my first painting lesson scheduled for the next Monday.
O-kay, I guess we are doing this now.
My brain overthinks when trying new things
As the introvert I am (which I understand now, 6 years later, but I don’t think I realized it back then), I got extremely anxious about the whole thing. I googled the route a million times in the days leading up to it and all the questions you can imagine played on repeat. How long would it take me to go there? (seriously, it was a 10-15 min. walk), how late should I have dinner?, what should I have for dinner?, would there be a toilet there? (really, Lena), how many other people would be there?, what if I do something stupid?, I don’t know any of the ways they handle themselves around the studio, is it even called a studio? What if they all think ‘who the heck is this blonde weirdo and why would she think she could paint, can someone please send her home’? What if I can’t get it right? What if… what if….
The day came, and on that Monday, I was walking through my beautiful city, heading for a painting lesson. I believe that if you feel like you want to do something and it flows as smoothly as it did for me—typing “painting lessons in Rotterdam” to walking toward my first evening of painting a week later—it’s a sign you’re on the right path. When things fall into place that easily, you shouldn’t ignore them.
I found the place (obviously, after memorizing the route and still having Google Maps open as I walked), looked inside, and Solko opened the door. He welcomed me, shook my hand, and looked happy I was there.
My first acrylic painting lesson
He took the time to explain how his lessons worked. He helped me with the very basics of acrylic paint and my first—and smallest—still life ever: a Mars chocolate bar. He placed it on the table next to my paper and explained where to start. With his help, I painted something resembling a rectangle that, kind of, had form and depth to it. It was magical.
Two hours passed, and I talked with the other students, admired the amazing works they were creating, and most of all—I felt the flow. The artist’s zone: music playing in the background, brushes dipping in water, the smell of paint, and the specific taste of tea Solko always served. Those evenings became special to me, and writing about them makes me incredibly thankful for how he taught me to paint. Finding a teacher is one thing, but it really helps when their teaching style resonates with you. Luckily, I found that. But I’m also grateful to my anxious self in 2018—listening to a need that came from within and taking action, despite all the questions and doubts.
I fell head over heels for painting and creating
I walked home that night with an intense headache from excitement and concentration and didn’t fall asleep until around 3 a.m. I went there week after week for the following two years. The headaches got less, but the excitement only grew. I still remember the feeling when I saw a 0.1% resemblance between my painting and the Mars bar: it was the moment I knew I had found something I would be doing for the rest of my life. I had found that companion I was searching for.
This is still the case. After more than a year of painting lessons in 2019, I started working fewer hours at the university and rented a small studio in Rotterdam. On my days off, I would go there to paint, learn, experiment, have fun, sing, look out the window, rip up paper, get frustrated, feel sad—experience all the emotions. But through it all, I always felt at peace there. Painting slowly started to show me who I really was on the inside.
Creation turned into my life long companion and my greatest passion
My love for my craft kept growing, and those days became the highlight of my week—a very clear sign, if you ask me. So, I quit my job in 2021 and painted full-time for two years. There are no words to describe how it feels to be able to do what you love every single day. And not only do what you love, but to feel that spark deep within, telling you that this is what you should be doing. Creativity might be my religion.
Unfortunately, life hit pretty hard in 2023 for me and my family, and I had to put some things on hold regarding my painting business. I found a job in education again, and right now, I paint part-time while working four days a week. But I’ve never stopped believing in my goal: to paint full-time, and I’m working hard and investing a lot to make that happen.
Things you love this much will always stay with you, return to you, be there for you, support you and also give you space when necessary - just like a good life companion does.