Great highlights and a sailing accident in 2024

The year was packed full of exciting excursions, encounters and new impressions. I worked long and hard on the creation of my card game. From the motif design to the digital development, it was a completely new project for me that was simply great fun.

Organizing a multi-day VHS course with children on the subject of art and nature was a great challenge.

My decision to concentrate fully on my own work again meant that I had to leave the Kunstverein. But now I’m enjoying more freedom of action for my own art again. The preparations for the next solo exhibition from March 2025 are taking up a lot of my time and attention. I still have a lot to do before the opening.

A terrible sailing accident in September, in which my husband and I almost lost our lives, will certainly leave its mark on us. We are both happy and grateful to have survived this accident so well. We could not have done it alone and without the courageous support from many sides. Writing this long report here was not pleasant. But the more I got into writing, the more I felt that I could get more distance from the terrible event. The text about the sailing trip has become really long. But you don’t have to read it all. Writing was definitely healing for me.

This year will remain a special memory for me, with all of its decisive events. I am grateful for the new insights that I will take with me into the new year. I am especially grateful that I am able to experience this new year together with my husband.

1. the year started really well! With my card game – MATRIASKAT

I dared to try something new! And it has become a project close to my heart: Designing my own skat deck and putting it into production was a great challenge and a lot of fun. It was also exciting to create the motifs completely digitally. I’m really proud of the small edition of 100 pieces as an artist’s edition! The card deck was inspired by my participation in the mitBLAU exhibition in Schwalenberg. Right at the beginning of the creation process, my ideas quickly moved away from traditional blue printing towards more color and also away from the traditional deck of cards with Jack, Queen, King towards Bee, Queen, Queen.

Now I am an absolute bee fan! With their well-organized state, they are simply effective and pragmatic. Every bee has its task and they have such an incredibly likeable charisma. They buzz tirelessly as they work. They immerse themselves head over heels in their work, only to fly on happily buzzing away afterwards, powdered in yellow. It was particularly inspiring for me to create the heart-warming bee figures in the dark season. It simply brightened the mood with every scribble. In March, I held the limited edition of the finished card decks in the self-designed metal box in my hands – just in time for the exhibition. Tadahhh!

You can find out more about the MATRIA SKAT here and it is also available in the store

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2. “Art and nature” with the children of the VHS – LIPPE – OST

That was quite a packed week with eight children! The nine and ten-year-old girls and boys had an enormous urge to move during the Easter vacation week. How good that we had plenty of space at the Werkhaus Schieder-Schwalenberg.

“Only rabbits can do better” was the title of the invitation to the children’s workshop at the VHS Lippe – Ost during the Easter vacations. The children were able to invent their own little insects with me, we painted walking sticks, designed them with plasticine and made our own blue print.

The Werkhaus is an old lady. From the cellar to the attic of the historic half-timbered building, it has certainly seen a lot. Countless creative courses have left plenty of colorful traces in the large rooms. The children felt very welcome and hopped up and down all the floors. We had the whole house to ourselves! We played hide and seek in the ancient, winding cellar rooms. The large workroom was an irresistible invitation to do cartwheels again and again, just like that. Afterwards, it was much easier to concentrate on the plasticine or fabric printing. We really had a lot of space at our disposal.

The course included a breakfast for the children, which they were happy to help themselves to. The weather was dry on all workshop days and we were able to enjoy a varied walk through the forest to the Magdalenenquelle spring. It was the same route every day. But it couldn’t get boring with this lively group. On one day we were also able to visit the Haus Bachrach gallery. The blue print exhibition mitBlau was open at the same time as our workshop. I had a really active group. But in between there was also time for nice conversations with individual children, who really touched me with their stories from their everyday lives.

It was great for the children and also for me to try out the different techniques together.

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3. farewell to the Kunstverein

I have been heavily involved in the Kunstverein Schieder-Schwalenberg since the beginning of 2024. It was fun to plan and carry out a wide variety of projects with other artists. The exchange was inspiring and also helped me to reflect on my own work even more easily. Joint projects drive ideas and motivate people to try out new techniques and perspectives.

An absolute highlight on the fringes of the association’s work was my participation in a workshop on the Aller.Land program in Chemnitz. There were so many exciting and incredibly effective support programs in a wide variety of art and cultural fields. There were dance choreographies involving a whole village, sewing projects involving entire streets. Alternative city tours were presented, a Halloween association that brought all the neighbors together and so on…

Culture can bring people together again, even in times of crisis! But cultural workers must also be paid. Because in all the projects presented, it became clear how crucial the professional support of the committed artists was in each case.

However, the Kunstverein Schieder-Schwalenberg would have had to set completely different priorities in order to realize these ideas at its own location. I would also have had to put my own work on the back burner even more. The work involved in organizing the exhibitions was already extremely time-consuming. I soon no longer felt comfortable with it. The more compromises I had to make, the harder it was for me to commit to the many time-consuming tasks. I also no longer wanted to subordinate my creative freedom to the established hierarchy of the association. My departure was inevitable.

Now it’s good to be able to concentrate on my own work again and develop new ideas.

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Our vacation on Usedom in September ended with a terrible sailing accident

We were looking forward to a sailing trip shortly before the end of our vacation on Usedom. However, our Liz dinghy capsized and we had to wait a long time for rescue in the cold Achterwasser. My dear husband and I only just survived.

We had already made two trips on the unfamiliar water to explore the area and the Peene River in moderate winds. Well, the winds were really light. We bobbed along a bit and turned back quite soon both times. The vacation was planned as a mix of smaller sailing trips and excursions on Usedom. After the vacation period and at the end of the sailing season, we were looking forward to a relaxed week with little activity.

Manfred and I visited the Historical-Technical Museum in Peenemünde. This day out was gray, wet and uncomfortable. In retrospect, it was a good way for me to get in the mood for our dramatic sailing trip the following day. I found the gigantic former military site, where the world’s first rockets were developed, very oppressive, which was certainly not only due to the bad weather. We used the rest of the day to discuss the next trip out on the water in peace and quiet.

The sailing trip

The weather on our last day of sailing is uncomfortable in the morning. However, the wind is forecast to ease in the afternoon. So we decide to set off around midday. By the time we had left the Peenestrom behind us, the Achterwasser would be easier to navigate again. The temperature of 16°C is pleasant. I wear layers of clothing under my sailing gear. Including my cap and sunglasses, I feel well equipped. As always, we both put on our life jackets as a matter of course. My sunglasses are still to play a strange role on this day. And I don’t yet realize how happy I would be about every piece of my clothing when I take them off.

We leave the harbor under engine power and are in good spirits about being able to “really” sail today. The two previous trips were a bit boring. As always, I’m responsible for the foresheet, Manfred handles the mainsail and sits behind me at the tiller. We make wonderful progress across the Peenestrom. The wind promises a nice ride across the Achterwasser, which we soon reach. If the wind is still too strong and the waves too choppy, we would definitely turn back. With our Liz dinghy, we initially encounter other sailors. But as the hour progresses, there are fewer and fewer of them. Some have enjoyed one last morning round on the Peenestrom, most have already finished the sailing season this week.

We check the weather conditions on our cell phones one last time and decide to venture out onto the Achterwasser. We make promising progress on the Peenestrom. The closer we get to the Achterwasser, the wind soon demands our full concentration. I’m busy keeping up with every heel with my body weight and paying attention to Manfred’s announcements. I am completely focused. I’m expecting Manfred to correct the course soon at the helm and to ease the foresheet a little at any moment.

Rhythmically, the boat lifts slightly out of the water and slaps back onto the waves. It feels really good right now, but that’s all it should be. I’m sure Manfred feels the same way as I do. We’ll get everything ready for the turn. But we have to seize the right moment.

Too late!

Unexpectedly and at the same time as a surprisingly strong gust, the dinghy is hit by a wave and lifts itself high out of the water at the front. With the sudden drop in wind, the mainsheet suddenly has so much play that Manfred loses his footing in the boat, which is suddenly heeling to windward. I don’t notice that Manfred is already overboard at this moment.

Completely submerged under water, Manfred holds the mainsheet firmly in both hands so as not to lose the boat, not to lose himself, not to lose me. The boat remains underway for a moment. The water penetrates his clothes at high pressure right down to his skin. Manfred experiences the cold shock that I am spared. Of course, he does everything he can not to lose the mainsheet in the water, so he tightens the line.

That’s why the gust of wind that’s now coming is gripping the sails all the more violently. As I don’t hear any commands from him, I still feel relatively safe. But the heeling is now so strong that I am no longer able to release the foresheet from the jam. With all my strength, I push myself to the very edge of the boat to balance myself with my weight. I look down briefly from the very top of the edge onto the dark, foaming water. And the sails are already slapping the surface of the water. I see them submerge. I slide, or rather glide, backwards over the edge of the boat, the bow of which is now rising more and more out of the water.

Slowed down by the slowly surfacing hull, I don’t fall headfirst into the water, but rather slide backwards into the waves of the aft water in a sitting position. The lifejacket has reliably inflated at breakneck speed as soon as I enter the water. I’m relieved to see that my head, shoulders and arms are still halfway dry, while I only just manage to get my fingertips onto the slippery edge of the boat. I don’t have a cold shock. That’s good. It’s also a relief to feel the shoes firmly on my feet. How good that the water can only slowly work its way through the layers of clothing. At least it warms up a little and feels bearable on bare skin. The water and the air seem to have very similar temperatures. How good. I find out later that the water is 16°C at this moment with an air temperature of 15°C. It just feels reassuring that the water isn’t any colder. What’s more, I’m not injured. Nothing hurts. I remember these seconds as if I had soberly told myself all the important information at the same time as it was happening, as if I were reading it from a log.

It has probably only been a few seconds up to this point. I now turn to the side and find Manfred at the stern of the boat next to me, also searching for support with his hands. Damn! Every bowl of dough has a better grip!

The boat rocks violently and is very shaky and quite steep in the water due to the still closed, air-filled cabin. With a lot of effort and overcoming, constantly looking for something to hold on to above the water, and after several failed attempts, we finally manage to fish the radio out of the cockpit under water to send the distress signal. No sound! Nothing! It doesn’t seem to be working.

Now we decide together that I would try to crawl up the steep keel to get out of the water first. When I reach the middle of the boat, Manfred’s idea is for me to stand on the centerboard from this position and turn the boat with my body weight.

I manage that after a short breather. But nothing at all happens. In the meantime, the cabin door has apparently been pushed out and the inside of the boat is full of water. The dinghy is already deeper in the water. It is impossible to right the boat. The boat keeps turning under water. Sometimes it lies on one side, sometimes on the other. We have nothing to do but climb along with every movement in the cold water, sliding back and forth over the belly of the boat.

Oh, those sunglasses! My sunglasses stay on my nose during all the terrible activities. I can’t believe I don’t lose them. I could have made the coolest floater. In the meantime, I first see my hat floating away. Then my rucksack, which was stowed in the cabin. A paddle floats away. Is that my handbag in the front? It contains my cell phone, car keys, all my important cards and IDs. Never mind. It really doesn’t matter now. Once the boat is really clean upside down. We climb in and are glad to get a good bit more out of the water. We sit astride the keel for a moment. The countless bruises on our legs are probably the result of these painful climbs.

We sit opposite each other on the terribly acute-angled keel and look at each other. We say it out loud: Probably no one is sailing out today in this weather. The radio doesn’t seem to have transmitted. Otherwise something would have happened by now. We probably won’t survive the night. The boat sinks deeper and deeper. The chances of rescue are slim.

Drown or freeze to death? That is the question here

Soon the boat is turning again. We have to adjust our movements for this ride where we simply have to react. Meanwhile, the horizon gets grayer and grayer. Looking into the distance, I can’t get any further than one sober thought: it would be a real damn shame if everything were to end so easily here and now. And: I don’t want this to be the end. There is no panic involved. All thoughts are just simple observations. I also just realize that I’m wondering: Will we drown or freeze to death?

Manfred hangs back at the stern of the boat and I a little further forward. The hull of the boat offers terribly little support. To be able to see Manfred, I have to turn my body completely as my head is cramped in the lifejacket. I would have to loosen the scant grip of my hands even more each time to look for Manfred. That’s why it’s easier to call out to him.

Are you there? Yes, I am there! Manfred’s answer always gives me the strength to keep going. I just remembered Konrad Lorenz, the“father of geese“. He once translated the contact calls of geese into human words: “I’m here! Where are you?”

We two gray-eyed castaways are hanging on the slippery edge of the boat. The waves slosh, the water foams. We are getting grayer and grayer. Only my sunglasses reliably hold their position. Cold and wetness creep everywhere.

Suddenly, the whale’s hump starts to move again. The boat turns further and further, we climb along, climb over the low-hanging edge of the boat – and are actually sitting in the boat, the water up to our hips! We sit opposite each other again, marveling and briefly hoping for a little more stability. And then everything tips again. We climb again. Once again, we only have the wobbly hull to hold on to, which is now barely sticking out of the water.

At the moment the boat straightens up, the automated distress signal is finally transmitted. We only find out afterwards: the antenna was under water the whole time. The radio was working, but without the antenna it was impossible to transmit.

About fifteen minutes after the boat floated upright again, we saw a white ship on the horizon. A snow-white, shining ship. I marvel at it through my sunglasses. A beautiful ark is heading towards us. Is it heading towards us? Can it be that they don’t see us? I wave my fender, a small white foam box that I was clinging to like a drowning woman, with my arm outstretched. Manfred waves the one paddle we still have. We lie limp on our bellies on the sinking boat, only our life jackets stand out in neon yellow against the gray water. The rescuing passenger ship Johannes seems to be keeping course for us. Or does it? Why isn’t anyone waving back? I can see the silhouettes of a few people on deck. Why are they standing there like pillars of salt? I wave obsessively.

Of course, the people who discover us rocking in the waves are just as shocked as we are. They are unable to reciprocate our joyful wave. Of course I understand now. I wouldn’t have waved either. It’s crazy what thoughts arise in situations like this, isn’t it? I watch the whole scene through my sunglasses. They’re still glued to my face. Maybe the weather wasn’t as gray as I remember it?

From now on, the rescue chain is professional and absolutely reliable. However, I am reluctant to be pulled out of the water with the boat hook. Instead, lying on my stomach on the hull, I try to pull the whole boat towards the passenger ship. Otherwise Manfred will drift away again! I first need the insistent shouts from on board that I absolutely have to let go of the boat! Finally the information gets through to me and I slide into the water, holding the boat pole. And then everything went so incredibly easily! They could have towed me all the way to the harbor! But then helping hands bend down to me over the railing and grab my arms. I glide, I float, I fly. I am so light. Everything is so light now. Thank you!

I watch as Manfred is finally hoisted on board together with his lifebuoy. The greatest luck on earth! We are both saved!

Saved!

Despite severe hypothermia, Manfred and I were able to leave the hospital on the third day. We are still grateful for the good medical and emotional support we received from so many helping people. I am also very grateful to the passengers on the Johannes for the active support of some of them. I am very, very grateful to the others for their polite restraint. The resulting calmness helped immensely. Meanwhile, it was perhaps also a relief for me not to have to look even more closely at the horrified, worried and questioning faces of the people around us because my sunglasses were still on correctly.

My dear husband and I had been clinging to life for almost two hours in the cold, crashing waves of the Achterwasser. The doctors said we couldn’t have survived another hour.

The water police came to our emergency room in the evening, where we were slowly warmed up again with the help of infusions and warm blankets. They had my dripping wet rucksack and my handbag with them. “There are even messages on the cell phone! It works!” the two likeable young men were beaming all over their faces. They had appeared in the emergency room like a shining apparition. I now had all my papers back, car keys, all my IDs! We were able to inform our two daughters. Of course, I wouldn’t have known their phone numbers by heart. Do you still know any phone numbers?

Our two wonderful daughters picked us up and drove us home. Even our dinghy was recovered immediately and only slightly damaged. We were able to take it home again straight away, as our brave daughters agreed to pull the trailer home with them.

We have already been able to thank many people after our rescue. Including the sea rescuers. We were not able to speak to everyone. The hours, the days after the accident are worth further reports. The more I tell and write down, the more the events become history and my distance from them increases. As I tell the story, I feel less cold and the wave-like nausea lessens.

The great helpfulness of all the helpers involved was incredibly beneficial and will never be forgotten. However, I don’t want to sail anymore.

My goodness! I wrote it all down in one go. I’ll have to decide whether I want to write any more. Everything needs to be digested better first. We are both on the right track and our health has recovered.

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5. there were definitely many wonderful moments in 2024

The vacation with children and grandchildren was heart-warming again. Beach walks are also fun at Easter on Texel.

My 2024 conclusion

I am proud of that:

With the MatriaSkat bee sketch, I have created an unconventional work that has led me into completely new areas of digital printmaking. I also learned a few new things about bees.

I am proud to be hosting another major solo exhibition in 2025.

I am very proud and happy that my husband and I were able to put our accident and all its after-effects behind us so well.

Especially beautiful in 2024:

As always, I particularly enjoyed the meetings, visits, vacations and shared experiences with our children and grandchildren. Unfortunately, the distances involved mean that we don’t see each other regularly. But when we do, it’s always wonderful. The fact that our daughters were so supportive after our accident was outstanding!

What important lessons did 2024 teach me?

I won’t be sailing any more.

I will blog more

I will continue to pursue a positive development in all events and occurrences.

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Outlook for the coming year

6. Looking forward to the solo exhibition at the Residenzschloss Bad Arolsen

After the summer vacation, the final confirmation: My next solo exhibition is coming! My [UN]seeming worlds will be on display at the Bad Arolsen Museum from March 7. The long classical corridors and halls offer plenty of space. I’m looking forward to presenting my questionable and banal everyday finds in the stately rooms. Queens and princes once resided here. From March, thousands of my dubious insects and bizarre bird creatures will take over the regency of the paneled rooms. At least for a few weeks.

I’m already well into the preparations. There will once again be a walk-in cabinet. Similar to my exhibition Romanticism 2.0 in the Bad Pyrmont Castle Museum, a small chamber will be prepared, which will be like a cocoon inviting visitors to undergo their own metamorphosis. I am most pleased if I can actively take you as a visitor on an excursion into these bizarre little worlds, which are actually at our feet every day. However, many things get lost in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Opening our eyes to the small moment in which we find ourselves can change a lot.

It’s more fun and insightful to actually be there and participate than to simply admire what’s displayed on the walls of an exhibition. That’s why you’ll be able to transform even the smallest scraps into surprising treasures with me on some days of the exhibition. The Bad Arolsen Museum will announce all the dates in good time. And of course I will keep you up to date with everything about the upcoming exhibition.

How good that I don’t have to fill the whole castle with my miniatures. The whole complex is really huge. The museum and the gallery rooms in the left wing only make up a relatively small part. Apart from that, the castle has some very interesting discoveries to offer. There are two very exciting libraries. One is used for research, the other is a historical collection. Both contain incredible treasures. The atmosphere alone is unique.

The bottom line: Arolsen is a small historic town in Hesse. It has five museums to offer, a small historic center and a lot of beautiful countryside around it that invites you to take a deep breath

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2025 will hopefully bring us all peaceful times.

Cohesion and mutual support, co-determination, equal rights for all genders and age groups, mutual respect at all levels would be a great goal. I am looking forward to and excited about 2025.

My takeaway from 2024 is how good and important it is to cultivate mutual support. On a small and large scale. In the family and socially, I wish you all the best for the coming year 2025!

I look forward to your comments on my review of the year. What can I improve about the structure of the blog? What would you like to know more about? What did you like? What could I improve?