This weekend I'm going to Stockholm. I'll explain why in another Strook with something I drew, read, and listened to.

Drawing

A few weeks ago, I visited the MAAK! exhibition at Museum Arnhem, which featured only work by amateur artists. Something struck me. Many of the most beautiful works were created by people who were ill, and often referred to their illness.

In the newsletter of jury member Yuki Kho, one of the jury members, I read part of the words with which she opened the exhibition.

Much of the art you see here tonight was created because there was no other option. Because standing still was inevitable. Due to illness, loss, or, conversely, birth. Moments when participating in the rat race was not an option.

The fact that such moments give rise to a need to create beauty is incredibly hopeful.

Those words sound familiar. From a busy life full of ambitions, I was thrown back into a small life full of limitations. Despite that, there is my illustration work, but also writing such as this newsletter, something that has to come out.

Reading

Three years ago, I read Herstelwerkzaamheden (Recovery Work). Philippine Putman Cramer and Lidewey van Noord were confronted with serious and chronic illness—a brain hemorrhage and long COVID. Together, they wrote a beautiful book about what it's like to be sick and find your way.

About being invisibly ill. How every action requires consideration of the possible consequences for the rest of the day, or weeks. How not only you, but also your partner and your family lose something. That being ill is often about getting better. But what if you never do?

In the book, they write about the parallel universe of the chronically ill, where you can feel quite alone. Philippine and I got in touch and became friends. It's not nice that others are going through the same thing, but it does make you feel less alone.1

That got me thinking. I always feel reluctant to write about illness. At the same time, I benefit greatly from the books, blogs, and posts of those who do dare to share.

Every year, there is a large European conference on life after stroke, where researchers, doctors, and experts gather. Next week, I will be in Stockholm to talk about my own recovery efforts. Drawing, reading, listening, and writing a Strook about it every week is part of that. Thank you for reading.

Listening

Kevin Morby has been writing my soundtrack all these years. Fortunately, he continues to expand that soundtrack, such as with his new great song Javelin.

Until the next Strook!