An Imposter Syndrome

Celebrating a third year in my art studio.

Three years after, same expresso, different drawings

My Dearest,

April First. The Moment of truth. How long will you survive? Until tonight? Next week maybe. Will you finish the month alive? Please, stop talking about next year, in your situation it’s pathetic — poor Loser.

That’s it. The big jump. Doing what you do. Whatever it cost. How many of us have been crashed by the past? A new life awaits. On my side, it’s gonna be three years tomorrow. How did I survived so far?

Three years of Sissitrix. Fuck. What a bliss. Curious? Below is my very first post:

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The bliss of the imposter syndrome is to enjoy every moment at its upmost. Whatever starts, ends — nature's relentless law. But, in between, do not save your life for later days. Enjoy that day, seize all the joys!

I will guide you through the lights of my secret garden.

This is the first time I didn’t close the door of my garden.

Will you seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

Enter the glamorous studio of Sissitrix, surreal, like a dream.

You tiptoe in, admiring the women on the wall. Come further in.

Flashes, snapshots, and moments extracted from my fantasy.

A delicate mess of dirty hatchings showing the eroticism of life.

Stay a bit with me my dearest, my watcher, I need you by my side.

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“For an artist, to be normal is a disaster” — Jonas Mekas, filmmaker

Happy Easter,
Sissi