SHOWCASE

/ ARTIST / 2026

ARTIST: Klara
COUNTRY: Croatia (Hrvatska)
CONTACT: www.klarxy.com
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instagram.com/klarxy
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I am an illustrator and visual storyteller based in Zagreb, Croatia. My work moves between illustration, comics, and narrative image-making, using drawing as a way to explore thoughts, emotions, and the complexity of everyday life. I am particularly interested in themes of memory, identity, mental health, and the quiet experiences that connect us.

After graduating in Animated Film and New Media from the Academy of Fine Arts in Zagreb, I completed an MA in Authorial Illustration at Falmouth University in 2017, where my graduate thesis received the Award for Outstanding Creative Writing.

Since then, I have exhibited my work in Croatia and internationally, including my solo exhibitions ‘Where Do People Go After They Die?’ (2018), based on my first graphic novel, and ‘ADHD - Pool of Thoughts’ (2024). Alongside commissioned illustration projects, I continue to develop personal, author-driven work that balances intimate storytelling with playful visual language.

I see illustration as a space where vulnerability, curiosity, and imagination can coexist, creating stories that encourage viewers to pause, reflect, and find something of themselves in the work.

THE POOL

How does my ADHD brain (not) work?

Imagine a swimming pool with 8 lanes instead of 16. At least two swimmers are swimming simultaneously in each of them, and sometimes this is the case with entire groups of non(synchronized) swimmers. In any case, the lanes are never empty. Even if the swimmers in one lane manage to swim in a straight line, without bumping into the other ones, this often goes unnoticed because of the absolute mayhem in the remaining 15 lanes.

This pool is my brain, and the swimmers are my thoughts, each very different from the others. Some are faster, some slower, there are skilled and clumsy ones, younger and older ones, smaller and larger ones, some that stay on the surface, and the others that dive… When the first swimmer jumps into the pool, or when the first thought appears in my brain, a long-distance race begins, lasting until there are no more swimmers there. When the brain is young, the water in the pool is fresh. The swimmers end their laps or drown on their way, while the new ones jump in to join or replace them. However, unlike real Olympic pools, this one doesn’t have a filtration system, so the water slowly gets dirty. Over time, it becomes stale, diminishing the swimmers’ chances for survival. As the brain gets older, it becomes slower. A pool without swimmers, full of stale water, means the end of the game, death.

As I have mentioned, not all of my swimmers have the same abilities. Some of them are fighting for their dear lives, so they are wearing water wings or hanging on to inflatable floats. These are thoughts that just can’t seem to learn how to swim because they simply don’t understand how. While I was at high school, I had entire groups of such floating thoughts - especially during math, physics and logic class - in my pool. Some things are not easy to understand, and for some, even swimming gear can’t help us get them…
Sometimes you can also see situations where a swimmer is dragging another one. It’s not completely clear if the other swimmer has lost consciousness or is just pretending, but what I’m sure of is that the first one is doing her best to save her. These are the thoughts you have when you can’t remember where you saw or placed something, where you were and when, so in the chaos of all this data you are bombarded with, you are trying to find the information you need like a detective.
Groups of synchronized swimmers are the opposite of these clumsy thoughts. Not only do they swim perfectly, but they also express themselves creatively through their movement, which is great in moments you need it. But if your task is to get from point A to point B as quickly as possible, or to end the thought process as efficiently as possible - it becomes an issue. For example, when I recount something for an eternity because I interrupt the story with twenty other, smaller, episodes, I lose my train of thought, then find it - the so-called synchronized speaking. Also, sometimes a single swimmer who lost her synchronized swimming team can be found in the pool as well, persistently performing their choreography. The problem is that as a solo act, this simply doesn’t look good…

Not all of my swimmers are the same age. In the pool, you can also see babies, young creative thoughts motivating me to start working on new projects, inspiring me to make new artwork and giving me new ideas. For example, I could really throw a baby into the pool - such kind of thoughts.
On the other hand, there are these old swimmers as well, thoughts that have been swimming for a long time, problems bothering me for a long time, that I can’t find a solution to, or thoughts like Oh god I am so old, when I wake up hungover and get up too soon, so my back hurts, my vision goes black and my ears start ringing.

Not all of my swimmers cross the pool at the same depth. The diving swimmer is a thought lost in deep introspection. Maybe she finds something at the bottom of the pool! However, this can also be an unusable thought that simply nestled down there, with no intention of going anywhere. Finally, the diving swimmers can also be my daydreaming thoughts when I am staring into a wall, shutting down and hearing everything people are saying unclearly, as if I am underwater.
At the bottom of my pool, there are also some drowned thoughts, still not brought to the surface. These are thoughts about things I’m still not ready to let go of, or thoughts that I've suppressed. In such cases, there is a possibility of the swimmers’ resurrection, when a thought is triggered to go back to the surface. But this happens very rarely. Like resurrections usually do…
On the other hand, there are floating thoughts as well, sometimes just lying on the surface of the water, sometimes using inflatable floats, rare relaxed thoughts that are not in a hurry, as if they are taking a walk on a meadow full of flowers, without a care in the world. These thoughts are pretty inert, so they most often fall into the background. They are as useful as elevator music - they make the journey nicer, but they don’t change its direction or its goal. Like the nice thoughts you have when walking down the street and passing a mandarin stand, so you think “oooooh, mandarin season has started….” Like the curious ones when you read somewhere that a person can’t lick their own elbow so you check, just in case. Carefree thoughts, like when it crosses your mind that a blue whale will probably never see what a snow leopard looks like.

The swimmers who fish give up on the race in a similar way, pretending they are doing something useful. They are perfectly aware that there are no fish in the pool and that what they are doing makes no sense, but there they are, posing, procrastinating. These are completely nonsensical thoughts, I don’t give a fuck thoughts, yolo thoughts.
Completely different from these careless swimmers, there are also the swimmers who stumbled and ended up in the pool completely dressed - unplanned, intrusive thoughts that can can only swim to the other end of the pool, unpleasant thoughts bombarding my consciousness with pessimistic alternative scenarios, thoughts such as everything is fine, but what if… (insert the worst possible scenario).
There are also the swimmers with flippers, fast thoughts that come to life in a second, rapid-fire discoveries most often arising from panic, as well as the inept swimmers swimming diagonally, thoughts that cut through all the lanes. They simply follow their own path, often unconsciously disrupting the rules, peace and order of the pool, disturbing the other swimmers in such a way that the race sometimes has to start over, which in turn means that I have to simply give up on my day and wait for the next one…

Maybe you’re wondering if there’s a single normal swimmer in that entire pool. Of course there is! Don’t think that all of them are clumsy, lazy or lost… There are also some strong swimmers in perfect shape, familiar with the butterfly, breaststroke, and the combinations of swimming styles, swimmers who race straight ahead and win, the pride of every regional, state, European and world championship. Some of them are even ready to go to the Olympics! They go from point A to point B and solve issues. They are - functional!
Besides, all of my swimmers are normal in one way. Every swimming pool has its rules, and my swimmers follow them as much as they can. What I can guarantee is that, before jumping into the pool, each of them passes through that disgusting little foot bath, which means all of them go into the pool clean. Basic rules of hygiene need to be followed! At the end of the day, all of them would make it in this pool if it wasn’t so full, if they didn’t have to share it with everyone else, each of them with different abilities, goals and swimming styles. There’s no need for me to mention all of them because it is very hard even for them to stand out in all this chaos. What I do have to mention in the end is that when you take an ADHD pill, jet skis suddenly appear in the pool, helping thoughts to do what they need to very fast. But such situations are always only a temporary solution…

BIG HEAD AHEAD

And now, let’s move on to a more practical representation. We are going to transform these thought streams that we have so far imagined as lanes into brain wheels. Yes, I am aware that the brain doesn’t work that way in real life… But I’m not a neurologist, so I’m kindly asking you to keep that in mind.

Each brain wheel in my brain represents a lane in a swimming pool where the swimmers swim faster or slower, depending on their abilities. While they are swimming and sending the information from point A to point B (or just disrupting the other ones and getting in their way), everything around my head is flowing and pulsating. The spots in my hair that you can see on my drawing might be considered a drawing mistake. To all such doubters, I want to say that I will keep them in the dark on purpose, so they can never be sure if the spots happened by accident or intentionally. Just for fun, I will offer another possible explanation - the spots are tiny explosions you might’ve seen on YouTube if you’ve ever watched videos about the functioning of neurons, showing how they flow, move, shine and twitch. Or? Could the spots just be plain old spots?

In any case, this drawing is pretty simple so there’s no need for me to talk too much. Apart from the pores on the skin and the empty stare making everyone around me believe I’m hibernating, there are also the swimmers (or, better yet, floaters) holding on to their life belts, tethered to the interior of my head with ropes. These are still half-baked, unrefined thoughts floating around me, waiting to be pulled in and taken inside. To put it simply, this drawing shows that chaos is not just inside the head, but also outside of it, where swarms of thoughts are waiting to become a part of the story!

BIRTH OF THE THOUGHT

At the top of the drawing you can see how the idea for this exhibition came to be. A couple of years ago, at a summer get-together, after an entire evening spent together, a friend of mine asked me about the way my brain works - as if it jumps left and right, up and down, simultaneously in five different streams of thought, rarely seeing any one of them through. What is happening in my head amidst all this chaos? The picture of an Olympic pool and swimming lanes came to my mind. But you already know all about this from the description of the first drawing… This story, however, is about the birth of thoughts. How do these thoughts that end up in the pool come into existence? For a thought to get born, two things need to happen. For the purpose of this piece, they can be called “He” and “She,” even though they also can be things, occurrences, smells, and associations… I got a bit lost in this description so I hope at least you’re following what I‘m saying…

So, where were we? There are nine steps until the moment a young thought ends up in the pool and starts swimming. The first one is a meeting, a stimulus that takes place when the brain is still confused. Elements that don’t belong there very often fly into the pictures my brain makes. Beginnings are always that way - unclear, blurry. Over time, pictures become clearer and more realistic. Logically, after the meeting, there’s getting to know each other. During the first handshake, a real tornado of heat and chemical reactions which set about an irreversible process of thought formation takes place. Little atoms of thought are born in different shapes. Caterpillars in the stomach will very soon become butterflies.

During the first date, butterflies are flying everywhere. Assuming this is a great thought in the making, everything continues very intensely. Tongues are rejoicing, feet are hugging, even the food on the table is smiling… Atoms are merging into molecules, and molecules into… Into… Okay, you get it… Things are uniting, reuniting, licking and… And making love! The fourth step is signing an agreement between neurons, atoms and all those tiny things in the brain so that everyone consents to the thought creation. In the case of thoughts, unlike the real world, conception occurs every time after having sex.

And so a little thought grows in the stomach with the great help of everyone who’s there. Everyone in the head pays attention to it being well-fed and encouraged. And then, when the thought decides it’s ready, everything around it - from the membrane to its parents - hurries to get into a sterile environment so it gets born…

After its birth, one would think it’s all over, but life is just beginning. The thought is born. It has a lot of work to do - it will have to do a lot of good or harm. The doctor who helped during its birth drops it into the pool, and whatever happens, happens!

INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS

Do you ever stand on the edge of your balcony and think: what would happen if I jumped? Would I break some bones and survive or would I break some bones and die? Or a bit softer version - there’s a sign on the door of a cafe saying “unemployed not allowed” so you wonder what would happen if you rushed inside. Or an even softer version - your teacher says you can’t talk during class, and you wonder what would happen if you ran and jumped out of the window. I’m just kidding.

In my case, intrusive thoughts most often appear when I’m sitting in a group of people. Parties and concerts are okay. There are too many people and it’s too noisy for someone to conclude they are insecure, unless they came there like that… So social situations where you can see everyone and everyone is available for a chat are problematic for me. Considering that I’m a very outgoing and open person, one would think that I wouldn’t have issues in such situations… But such environments represent double work for me. On the one hand, I have to communicate and participate on the outside, and on the other, I have to do the same internally, inside my own head.

This drawing shows a version of my apartment. Of course, this isn’t really my apartment. Who do you think you are? Do you want me to hand you the keys so you can break in without a second thought? To take… I don’t know… My shoes and bedding, for example? Okay, I don’t really have anything valuable in my apartment… Nothing except my dog, a real four-legged angel shedding its fur…

Alright, my friends have gathered for a pleasant get-together in my apartment from the drawing. Everything is fine, the atmosphere is completely harmless. Only a huge meteor could surprise us and ruin the mood. At the same time, every possible impossible scenario (hmmmm, or is it?) is racing through my mind.

Let’s read the drawing from left to right.

In my bedroom, under the bed, lives a feet-eating monster. You know that monster that made you jump halfway across the bedroom like Blanka Vlašić when you were a kid, so it wouldn’t accidentally grab your foot and eat you? The only thing that’s changed since then is that I used to think it would eat me whole, but now, since I’m a bigger bite, I think it would bite my leg off up to the anterior cruciate ligament… Living high up on the wardrobe, where I can’t see them, longhorn beetles and other unknown bugs are preparing for a single thing - getting inside my ears and eating my brain. Yes, you’ve heard correctly! Also, there’s always a chance there’s a skeleton of a previous tenant in my bedroom wall. I’ve read all kinds of books, I know what can happen…

It’s equally dangerous in the bathroom. There’s a snake in the toilet bowl, just waiting for me to sit down so it can bite the first piece of flesh it can get. If these things happen in Australia, what prevents them from happening in Croatia? Are we better from Australians in some way? In the shower, there is always the danger of falling and breaking something. It's a slippery slope in here. Especially while shaving body parts that require advanced gymnastics skills. All this combined with a mirror… Having in mind how often I draw about death, accidents and horrors, it's a bit hard to believe I’m not a horror fan. Yes, yes, I know! I know what you’ll say… But there are some quality ones, without jump scares! This one will leave you speechless, you have to watch it! No, thank you. I’m afraid that after watching it, I’ll think everything in it is really possible. Anyways, I don’t know where I got it from, it’s probably a famous movie scene, but when I brush my teeth, I’m afraid that after rinsing my mouth, I’ll see someone standing behind me in the mirror. Another person can’t fit into this bathroom, but they could hang… Okay, but who could hang? I don’t know, someone… Or ever worse, something!

In the kitchen there are witches, brewing some poison. Okay, I’ve imagined a lot while drawing this because, realistically, if anyone is ever going to poison me, it’ll probably be me, with my excellent culinary skills… There’s a group of people standing around the table, devising a vicious plan to get rid of me, all eight of them, just like the number of my friends, sitting around me at my table… I’m not worried about what people are saying behind my back, I’m more worried about the information that hasn’t reached me. I know all too well how tiring or not-good I can be. Actually, I think too much about how I’m getting on everyone’s nerves and how no one wants to spend time with me, but they don’t want to tell me. But I love my friends and trust them. Forgive me, friends.

Similar to my limitless ability to imagine something is happening, I’m often afraid that things around me aren’t real. I’m even afraid of cryptocurrencies! How can I not be afraid of my neighbor with a blank stare, whose blinds are always drawn? I’m the kind of person who always thinks they’re Truman in The Truman Show, but, at the same time, I still believe I’m not important enough for journalists to ask me about Advent in Zagreb. I’m telling you… My brain has a lot of work to do….

ODE TO CHEAT SHEETS

If it hadn’t been for cheat sheets, my education would never have come to an end. These little pieces of paper meant passing or flunking a school subject.
My mom would often say The amount of time you spend writing on those little pieces of paper would suit you just fine to memorize all of it, to which I would reply That’s true. But what could I do when in order to study, someone needed to monitor me with a whip in hand, whereas this was a fun project I felt like doing.
This isn’t a text about how overwhelming the educational system is when we take into consideration the number of subjects and the amount of information young people need to learn. This is a text about how overwhelming the educational system, with its number of subjects and amount of information, is for me as a young person. Memorizing years? No way. Names? Barely. Formulas and “logical” definitions? Don’t get mad, but forget about it. Events? It depends on who died and if some new food was invented, or if they found a cure for something or some means of transport making it faster to get somewhere. And school is more or less like that. So I decided to help myself as much as I could and skip some steps. But some tiiiiiiny steps… Sooner or later you need to know everything you did in class because you can’t cheat on an oral exam.
In this drawing, I’ve decided to show you every place in the classroom where I kept my cheat sheets. From the soles of my shoes and radiators, to water bottles and my own fingers. Or feet if school coincided with hot summer days and flip-flops. Everything you can imagine happened and it was nice, but the most beautiful part is that I’ll never have to make cheat sheets again!

HAPPY THOUGHTS

There is never any peace and quiet in an ADHD mind. At least not entirely. But, purely statistically speaking, sometimes there needs to be something striving for it. Because the one who flies high, tumbles to the ground! That is, in the case of ADHD, I would say the situation is reversed - who tumbles high, flies low. When I say that I’m flying (low), I’m thinking of moments when I’m in my mother’s embrace, on my boyfriend’s back, or having coffee with my best friend… When I don’t have to be somewhere in an hour, when I can eat a lot, sleep too much, and laugh the loudest, without feeling guilty about anything. It’s also nice when I’m not the one running late for a meeting, so I’m waiting for the other person, when it’s warm and I’m not sweaty…When something doesn’t cost a lot, when yogurt is cold and burek is hot…Happy thoughts are my safe zones. When anxiety becomes a part of everyday life, such happy thoughts are very rare… But let’s not talk about that - just happy thoughts!

LOVE

Dear Babies is a series of oil paintings paired with handwritten letters to my unborn children, exploring love, vulnerability, and imagined conversations with the future.

Dear babies,

Love is really hard. Especially when you realize it’s also about chemistry, biology, psychology, politics, and economics, not like the books and movies you watched as a kid, eyes wide open. Anyway, you’re still babies, so — take it slow. You still have plenty of time to just let go and not overthink everything I’m about to write.
Believe it or not, I’m love’s biggest fan! The best part is when your head’s on autopilot, and your heart and hormones are sliding down the steepest snowy hill the world has ever seen on nothing but a simple plastic trash bag. What comes after requires requires good knowledge of the terrain, along with some technical skills regarding your own and the other person’s “vehicle”. No longer a trash bag, but, say, a sled.
I have to admit that from time to time I still go sliding on a trash bag, but I can also guarantee that without it, there’s no “serious” part that comes later.
Some people fall in love just once and that ends up being the real thing. I wave them by as they take their kids for ice cream and celebrate 15th relationship anniversaries. I also know some other people who find themselves in the season finale of a new love story every month. And they are also happy. What I want to say is, everyone finds their own kind of scratch for their itch.
Growing up in the ’90s, I loved sitting with your grandma, grandpa, and aunts as a kid, watching some boy my age in secret. In the hour it took us to finish a Coke and a ham-and-cheese pizza, the boy and I already lived through an intense romance. Of course, just in my head… For me, being an extremely serious six-year-old, finding love meant finding a boy who was handsome and smart. (I had to add “smart” so you wouldn’t consider me shallow and vain.) Anyway, that was the scope of my wishes, because I wasn’t yet aware of the things you could do with people — let alone boys.
Throughout elementary school and most of high school I’d sit crying with my face in my mom’s lap while she told me things like: “the earlier the boobs grow, the sooner they sag”; “you don’t have to rush it — in the future, you’ll be glad things happened later” or “when you’re young, you don’t understand much. Everything will come in time”.
And mom was right.
While I was crying, through my tears I could still see the cool boys skateboarding, listening to Nirvana, whipping their heads every two minutes to flick their greasy long hair off their baby mustaches and unwashed faces… But the real revolution came at the end of high school, and its effects last to this day. I met all my boyfriends and lovers between 2011 and now, and I can say everything balanced out and nothing’s (too) saggy yet.
Mom was right.
In the 14 years of service, I’m happy with all my romantic partners and can honestly say everything came at the right time. ’ll retire the trash bag when your dad shows up, but I’m still not entirely sure who that is. Don’t be mad, but I am still not sure if I’ll even have you… In case I did have you and you’re reading these letters to yourselves, my dear babies, I’m sorry I have ever doubted your existence!
Oh, and one last thing. Remember that “There are plenty of fish in the sea” is one of the most irritating phrases to hear while crying into your coffee over a breakup — but also one of the truest when you’re the one telling it to someone else crying into their coffee after a breakup…

HEALTH

Dear Babies is a series of oil paintings paired with handwritten letters to my unborn children, exploring love, vulnerability, and imagined conversations with the future.

Dear babies,

When you visit a doctor who has never seen you before, one of the first questions they’ll ask you is the following: “What brings you to our clinic?” What is hurting you, what’s bothering you, what’s going on with you?
If it’s your first visit to that doctor, they will always welcome you with a series of questions: do you have any allergies, can you tell me about your family health history, are you taking any medication? My mom knew all the answers and she would always answer for me. Then, at some point, she stopped entering the doctor’s office with me so I had to remember all the familial diseases, recall every surgery I had, and recount every health problem worth mentioning.
I know that for me it wasn’t easy to memorize all those details. That’s why I am telling you what my health situation is like at the moment — at 30 years of age — so that you have a family health history if you will ever need one. At least you will be able to compare your health status with that of the woman who may or may not have given birth to you.

Here’s the state of things from head to toe:
1. As a child I had my tonsils operated three times. Three times I had to eat ice cream in bed while everyone else was at school. Three times I got a “get well soon” present. After one of the operations, I got a Vet Barbie doll, which I took for a sign from some higher power that I should become a vet… Clearly, since you’re reading this letter — it’s not how things turned out in the end…
2. When I was about 26, I fell into a clinical depression, which — as it seems at the moment — I managed to successfully overcome. For more information on that topic, you can consult the big gray folder stuffed with papers under the category “heavy mental.” There you will find all the info that should remain behind closed doors, stay in the family.
3. “Hashimoto’s disease is an autoimmune disease in which the immune system attacks the thyroid gland, responsible for producing hormones that regulate metabolism, energy, and many other functions.” At the age of 30, I can say that my thyroid sometimes threatens to go haywire, but it hasn’t yet attacked… For the moment, it’s like an angry user leaving hateful comments on a news site — just spreading bitterness from the shadows and ruining everyone’s mood. Although it’s still harmless and only mildly irritating, it could escalate at any moment!
4. The spots you can see on my stomach and my back are called Lentigo. I learned that a few minutes ago when I googled it. Turns out I’ve been wrong my whole life because I thought it was Vitiligo. Which means I even drew them the wrong way… But hey, at least now I wrote it correctly: Lentigo. During my very first summer holiday, after my first-ever sunbathing, my mom noticed some spots that wouldn’t wash off. Luckily, it turned out that it wasn’t anything serious. The sun had just colored me a bit!
5. I don’t know who to thank for it, but yes, I also have polycystic ovaries. Not even ChatGPT, nor any gynecologist, has been able to explain to me with 100% certainty what exactly the situation is. On the PCOS lottery, of all the possible joys and misfortunes up for grabs, I ended up with irregular periods. That means that everything from my brain to below my belly button just can’t seem to agree on who gets to go first. Everyone does as they please, but I’ve come to accept it. I just hope one day they can all find a common language.
6. I also have cartilage that runs a bit weak in the family which, in a certain period, I overloaded with just a tiny bit of extra weight… It was worth it, though. I can still taste those 2 a.m. kebabs with fries on the side… At the time, late-night national TV programs always offered some bizarre plotlines, and then I’d fall asleep with a full stomach on the comfiest family couch ever!
7. After a fantastic local punk band concert in Zagreb (it’s called “IDEM”, you should really check it out), exhausted after a 12-hour trip back from Belgium on the same day, I returned to my neighborhood with a friend (shoutout to my buddy Sven) just to find all the parking spots near my building full, so I had to park farther away on an unmarked spot. While trying to squeeze in between parked cars, what happened to me can only be described as a cartoon scene. A pile of leaves was completely covering a drainage hole full of rainwater spiked with bolts and rods. You’re guessing it right — I stepped in and tore my leg. That night I got my first stitches and my first tetanus shot, which, I must admit, I never bothered to renew.
Sometimes you drink 20 glasses of wine spritzers and 10 rakija shots, get home at 6 a.m., go to university at 8 and feel — perfectly fine. And then there are days when you simply bend over to pick up a sock and your back locks up so badly you can’t straighten up… Anyway, at this point in my life, I can tell you that I understand better than ever what the angry old people use to say: “The body remembers and doesn’t forgive.” Your body can be your best friend or your worst enemy, depending on how you talk to it and how you treat it. I’ve been quite a bad friend to my body so far, but the good news is we managed to reconcile before it was too late. And now we’re good! Until the next time I bend to pick up a sock from the floor…

FINANCES

Dear Babies is a series of oil paintings paired with handwritten letters to my unborn children, exploring love, vulnerability, and imagined conversations with the future.

Dear babies,

Many times you’ve probably heard that money can’t buy happiness. And I agree. But what money can buy is existential peace. And that peace can be turned into happiness. Or at least into non-unhappiness, which signifies quite a big quality in these nervous times.
The truth is, money was always slipping through my fingers and I was permanently living hand to mouth. For me, saving anything is almost mission impossible. Money either disappears from my bank account before it gets the chance to cool off, or it doesn’t even appear there. I could try justifying myself by saying my parents weren’t exactly exemplary savers to look up to either, but I am pretty sure this isn’t one of those “nature” vs. “nurture” things, but a clear case of a “it’s-not-you-it’s-me” problem. Indeed, the only culprit is — myself.
In this painting, I have given a list of things that financially drain me, as well as a list of things I willingly and open-heartedly drain my finances on.
In the top left corner, you can see the alpha and omega, the presiding queen of this whole financial drain operation: Mrs. Republic of Croatia. She is a ruthless, tireless woman with PMS (maybe also with polycystic ovaries or Hashimoto’s disease) who mostly takes away and usually gives only after you’ve asked her several times, of course, in good old paper form, the old-fashioned way. With all due respect — blessed are the households she overlooks…
The top right corner is blessed by the holy trinity: utilities, internet, and communal services. Without them, surviving in today’s world would be almost impossible. You can also see coins that too easily disappear in black holes or leave you with the impression that everything you’ve earned has been shredded and recycled. Anyway, it’s important to keep the environmental awareness even in those tragic cases of money loss…
While the money irretrievably disappears, a tuna fish, a nightingale, a bear, and a marten — the animals which were appearing on the recently retired Croatian currency before the implementation of euro — dance a merry round around my disturbing financial situation. Thinking about those characters made me realize that I too, just like my parents, will end up telling you stories about some ancient, long-lost currency into which I’ll probably keep converting euros for the rest of my life.
This year I came to realize that my not knowing how to cook is no longer funny. The fact that I don’t like it is one thing, but not knowing how to do it… That’s just distressing! But hey, at least I’ve gotten the idea that one day maybe I could try to start learning… This wise and profound insight came to me through ordering food delivery. So, shoutout to all the cooks and delivery guys and girls — without you, these letters and these paintings wouldn’t exist!
If you add to those delivery charges all the pleasant coffee sessions, booze and cigarette expenses, hygiene necessities and the costs of maintaining your best four-wheeled friend, one (read: me) can easily conclude that for survival you’d need a personal money-printing machine, or at least a tree that occasionally bears money leaves.
Finally, in the lower left and right corners you can see my kind and patient parents who really did everything imaginable so I could do what I’m doing now. They always made sure I was healthy and not lacking anything, decently fed and clothed. I would like to give you the same type of care! (If someone other than my kids is reading this letter, keep in mind I am not talking directly to you, but to my babies!) Nothing less, only more! Still, giving you more than what my parents gave me will be really hard… Not because I wouldn’t try my hardest, but because the bar is simply set so high that I honestly don’t know how I could ever surpass it!

MY BODY IS (NOT) A TEMPLE

Dear Babies is a series of oil paintings paired with handwritten letters to my unborn children, exploring love, vulnerability, and imagined conversations with the future.

Dear babies,

Our bodies are temples. Or at least that’s what we’ve been taught. The better we take care of our bodies, the better they’ll take care of us. And the other way around. When you’re in your teens or your twenties and you’re not really thinking things through, least of all about your health. It never crosses your mind that your back will hurt one day if you carry your backpack over one shoulder, that your kidneys and bladder will serve you a painful revenge if you wear your pants halfway down your butt as a signature fashion statement most often worn by plumbers. When you’re smoking and looking at yourself in the reflection of a window, thinking how grown-up and cool you are, you don’t think about your yellow teeth, let alone the graver, more serious consequences… While you’re downing drinks and staying up till dawn, you aren’t thinking about how you’re basically turning your brain into a Swiss-cheese sponge. Not to mention you are what you eat, and it can be either the best or the worst… The more I think about similar examples, the more depressed I get. Who knows, maybe it’s better not to overthink it while your body is still in full strength and able to regenerate…
Anyway, suffering from some pain and tingling in my hands, I happened to go through a TURBO EXTRA MEGA full medical check-up this year. I made full use of the public health resources to get tested for everything possible, from hepatitis to multiple sclerosis, from cancer to tennis elbow. The conclusion was this: the brain is the strongest organ in the body, and stress is the worst enemy of every human being. In other words, it turned out to be psychosomatic in the end. Oh, and I also found out that at some point in the past I had jaundice and recovered from mononucleosis without even knowing it at the time. But hey, after all the tests and appointments, I could finally sigh with relief that at least FOR THE TIME BEING everything is fine (knock on wood three times).
Since I’m really interested in the human anatomy — both in theory and practice — every now and then I get sucked in a black hole… Both in theory and practice. The body is a phenomenal system that at the same time works like a rugged metalworks plant and a Swiss watchmaker with the finest fingers in the world. And somehow, everything keeps running in balance. As far as I’m concerned, in my twenties, I treated my body as if it wasn’t really mine. I mean, I didn’t treat it horribly, but definitely not too well either. Also, too often I let other people treat it however they wanted. Like I said at the beginning, I wasn’t really thinking things through.
In one of the following letters, I’ll write you in more detail about everything I believe I’ve learned about health that could be useful for you in the future. Until then, here’s just a short list… First of all, if you eat before going to bed, lie on your left side so acid is less likely to travel from your stomach to your esophagus, lowering your chance of heartburn. Secondly, water is useful both for drinking and washing. Use it, abuse it! Thirdly, if you are going through life on 3 hours of sleep, don’t be surprised if you end up with a diagnosis from a psychiatrist. On the other hand, on 9 hours of sleep, you will start glowing. And on 12 hours, you will be able to walk on water! Fourth, find a circle of people you love and trust. Be a shoulder to lean on and don’t be afraid to lean on theirs. Ask about anything that interests you and train yourself not to be afraid of negative answers. Also, seriously — chill in the sun (of course, putting SPF on your skin) and around plants, in nature. Finally, for the love of God… Go to the doctor regularly and get a full medical check-up every once in a while!

Talk to you soon, my babies!
Your (possibly) mom!