I always felt I was born to be an artist. At 14, I held my first solo exhibition and revelled in that world of creative sensibilities and sensitivities. But after my painter uncle died young and suddenly, my mother was terrified of having another artist in the family. I chose a ‘normal’ life.
Married young. Became a mother. Spent 14 years as the director of marketing at a business school. But I craved honesty and freedom in all things. In 2019 I quit my job to become a full-time, self-taught painter.
Within a year, I held three solo shows. In a lovely synchronicity, one was at the gallery in Poland which gave me my start as a teenage artist 30 years earlier.
Long story short, but in the early days of my second career I met one of Poland’s post-impressionist landscape masters Anfons Kulakowski. He was 92. He became my creative mentor. When I first showed him my work—water colours back then—and shared my story, Anfons gave two pieces of advice.
One: “Everyone has a piece of gold in their heart. Daria, yours is that you have to paint. If you don’t, the piece of gold will harden while trying to shine and will bother you until the end of your days.”
Two: “Don’t be so reckless when you eat porridge. When you eat porridge, taste it, smell it, think while eating how it nourishes you. This is the concept of fullness. When you focus on something and activate all your senses, it will bring something good.”
Both pieces of advice taught me to be authentic, to take off masks, honour talent and joy and desire, and to befriend solitude to free up space for reflection and allow your senses time to be quiet, calm and creative.
I paint mostly women of a certain age. I think there’s a lot in life about transformation, moments where you dream of something and don’t feel a sense of belonging. My art goes through that whole process. It mirrors what I’m experiencing.
So sometimes it’s about bold dreams and going forward and achieving. Sometimes it’s more about being in the here and now and just dealing with the washing. It’s always a reflection of my life. Vulnerability, excitement, possibility, normality, all meshed together.