The Journey of "Into the Unknown"

My Fear of the Unknown

I love the feeling when all the puzzle pieces inside me suddenly fall into place. When there’s just the faintest hint of something at first, and step by step everything begins to make sense. That’s exactly what happened with my new painting.

For quite some time, I’ve been struggling with a sense of fear that blocks me whenever my plan falls apart. When I lose my sense of direction. When I don’t have a clear thread to hold on to. A feeling of overwhelm that washes over me when I’m faced with chaos. My solution? I plan. I refine. Until everything is perfect. Until nothing unknown remains. To move forward without a plan—to jump into cold water—used to feel impossible to me. But while painting my new piece, something within me suddenly shifted.

When the Painting Has Its Own Plan

When I started painting, I had a plan. But the painting already had a plan for me. I wanted to paint turtles swimming in the ocean, so I chose blue. As always, I poured the first layer of paint onto the canvas and let my intuition guide me. I ran my fingers through the paint, adding strokes wherever it felt right. 

A few days later, when I looked at the canvas, the turtles no longer seemed to fit the painting’s dominant violet tones. Instead, the painting showed me a nocturnal scene: silhouettes of trees in the distance, a snow owl flying over a lake, with the moon reflecting on the water. In one corner, I discovered a blue shape that reminded me of a cave. Instantly, a picture of a little rabbit came to my mind, sitting in front of the cave and peering into the darkness.

Painting as a Mirror of My Subconscious

I have the feeling that the images I paint are not simply creations of my mind, but visions from within, inner themes surfacing through colors. As if the brush were an extension of my subconscious: the moment it touches the canvas, something else inside me takes over. Not my rational mind, constantly telling me what to do, but another voice, emerging from deep within, guiding the brush and revealing a part of myself I didn’t know was there.

But at that moment, I wasn’t aware of any of this. I saw the cave and the rabbit before it, sketched it, and then put the painting away, frustrated that it hadn’t turned out as I had imagined. For days, I didn’t touch my brushes. The initial joy was replaced by a familiar fear — fear of the new, of mistakes, of following signs without knowing where they would lead. Fear of chaos. Fear of the Unknown.

What If I Embrace the Unknown?

A few days later, I sat by the sea, journaling about the fear inside me. From time to time I glanced at the water, thinking of my painting — the blue that refused to become the ocean, the chaos that had emerged on the canvas, and the dark shape in the right corner that reminded me of a cave. And the little rabbit, sitting in front of it, gazing inside with big, clear eyes that didn’t seem afraid of the Unknown at all.

Suddenly, something clicked within me. I hurried back to the Van, carefully unwrapped the painting, and looked at the cave and the little rabbit peering into the dark. The rabbit didn’t seem to be frightened by the Unknown in the cave at all. Instead, it looked curious.

“What if I can choose,” a voice inside me whispered, “whether I respond to the unknown with fear or with curiosity? What if I let the joy of discovery triumph over my fear — just like the rabbit, who doesn’t shy away from the darkness but is instead fascinated by what might be hidden within it?” It felt like the final puzzle piece had fallen into place, and like I was finally beginning to understand something important.

Chaos as an Opportunity

It amazes me that I can never truly plan what I will paint in advance. I could put the painting aside and start a new one where turtles really belong. Or I could accept the invitation. The invitation to discover. The chaos on my canvas no longer frightened me—it invited me to explore.

Suddenly, I saw chaos in a new light. Chaos may overwhelm me, and yet only in the Unknown can something new be found. Only in the Unknown can I discover parts of myself I didn’t know before, hear something, and be open to a message. Only in chaos do caves appear—gateways into new worlds, into hidden places within me. Only then does painting become a dialogue, a conversation with myself, a journey inward into a cave deep within me. Only then can my painting speak to me, bringing forth a message that lay hidden in the dark.

zoefee