Medium: Acrylic, pigment powder, spray paint, mirror,

Dimensions: 200 × 300 cm

Edition: Unique work 1/1

Exhibition: “The Original Blueprint”, Haus der Stille, Kilchberg ZH, 2026

Status: Artist’s Collection

The Rebirth was built intuitively through layers of handwritten words, acrylic, mirror, spray paint and pigment powder. The canvas developed over time, with colour, texture and language accumulating as a physical reflection of memory and transformation. Words were written, covered, interrupted and rewritten, allowing the process itself to mirror the act of losing, rebuilding and eventually reclaiming my own voice.

The work became less about heartbreak itself and more about what emerged from it: self-love, transformation and becoming.

I loved twice. With a love so vast. I believed it would carry me into forever. Two woman, two futures I was ready to marry into existence. I gave them my belief. Before I learned how fragile belief can be.

The first part holds the beauty I was given. Words that wrapped around me like promises, soft enough to believe, strong enough to build dreams on. They live here like pressed flowers. Once alive, still beautiful, no longer growing.

The second part echoes another kind of beauty. A different voice, a different tenderness. The same certainty that love had found me again. Another version of me who hoped this time the ending would be different.

Then came the fracture.

The third part is heavy. What remained. Words that cut deepest. Spoken in moments of anger, fear or distance. Words that slowly reshaped my reflection. Until I no longer recognized the person staring back. Words I actually never was but slowly became. Echoes that convinced me I was too much, not enough or something broken beyond repair. I began to believe I was a monster. That the pain was proof of my failure to be loved.

When the second love left, I reached the lowest point of myself. A place where pain had no language. Staying alive felt like resistance.

Yet in the ruins of the second goodbye. Something unexpected appeared. Not another voice. Not another promise. But mine. Without witnesses, I met myself. Not a monster. Not as someone unlovable. But as someone who had survived love without ever having learned how to love herself. For the first time, I spoke to myself with tenderness I had mostly given away.

The final part is not about loss. It is about rebirth. The words I now speak for myself are the ones that will always remain even when everybody else is gone. They are not promises. They are home. They are ME.

And still, this is not a story of bitterness. It is a story of grace. The two souls who loved me dearly and left. Thank you. Thank you for the love that showed me, what my heart was capable of holding. Thank you for the breakage that forced me to meet myself, when there was no one else to run to.

Your absence became the mirror in which I rebuilt my face, my voice, my worth. Without the heartbreak, I would have never learned how to stay. How to choose myself everyday. How to love every shadow and every light within me. You returned me to my new self.

And for that I carry no resentment, only gratitude.

Because your leaving was the initiation into my becoming.