justyna

Nature Art Fair in the Flower Art Museum Aalsmeer

Tue, 09 Sep 2025 13:26:30 GMT

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I hope your sunscreen is finally off and your inbox is (mostly) under control—because the new art season is here! I celebrated it by painting until 2:00 last night. The result: fresh, leafy works heading to a beautiful venue this month.

I’m thrilled to invite you to the Nature Art Fair at the Flower Art Museum in Aalsmeer.
Think color, texture, a garden of inspiration—and yes, free entry! Bring a friend who says they’re “just looking”; we’ll convert them gently with art and charm.

Come say hi:

What: Nature Art Fair
When: 20 & 21 September 2025 , 12:00–17:00
Where: Flower Art Museum , Kudelstaartseweg 1, Aalsmeer
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I’ll be there with brand-new pieces still humming with late-night studio energy. If you’d like a quick preview or to reserve a work, hit reply and I’ll send a sneak peek—paint-splatter selfies optional.

I hope to see you there!

Lilies and Light

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Tue, 08 Apr 2025 18:20:35 GMT

Newest additions to the Flower Series

Lilies have always struck me as timeless — like quiet markers of light and presence.

In Living Sun , they take shape in layered reds, from deep crimson to soft coral. It's less about the flower and more about what light does to form — how warmth shifts across a surface, how color can hum. Think of it as a study in heat, held still.

Lilac Lilies (picture above) is a cooler breath. Muted pastels, influenced by Japanese aesthetics — clean lines, quiet space, a balance of form and negative space. These lilies aren’t dramatic; they’re pared down, intentional. Each brushstroke is about restraint — less performative flower, more distilled calm. Inspired by Japanese woodblock prints, but with my own palette and texture.

Then there’s Lilies on the Via Appia — yellow and lilac-grey tones set against Roman dust. Wild lilies appeared unexpectedly between ruins, as if planted by ancient pranksters. My mother and I, feeling adventurous (read: overconfident), took a “slightly unauthorized” drive down the historic Via Appia in a squeaky-clean rental car. The sunset was spectacular. So was the fine. Worth every euro. The painting isn’t nostalgic; it’s observational — how color behaves in waning light, how wildness interrupts order.

Together, these works explore how lilies — often over-romanticized — can carry light, mood, and meaning without needing to shout. A bit stubborn, a bit elegant. Just doing their thing, wherever they happen to grow.

Cheers to the Art of Doing Things Badly

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Sat, 11 Jan 2025 18:15:50 GMT

Window Cleaning and Other Life Lessons

Deutsche Version unten / Nederlandse versie beneden

Today was a big day: I cleaned my windows. And I did it terribly. On purpose. Because I’ve realized that “badly done” is the secret method to getting more done than striving for perfection.

Back in the day, when my mom cleaned windows, it was a whole ordeal: water mixed with mysterious ingredients passed down through generations, newspapers for polishing, and a perfectly streak-free result. Let’s just say, if perfectionism were an Olympic sport, she’d have taken the gold medal.

Me? I’ve adopted the Dutch method. Window cleaning at lightning speed! A bit of dish soap in water, drench everything with a mop, squeegee it off, done. No corners, no edges, no streaks. And today, thanks to this brilliant technique, I saw the sun for the first time in weeks. You know how I feel about cloudy weather—not a fan.

And this is exactly how you should tackle your New Year’s resolutions. Do everything as badly as possible—but do it immediately! Forget perfectionism, skip the drama. Take me as an example: today, my husband asked, “Weren’t you avoiding bread?” I replied, “Cherry pie isn’t bread.” Problem solved.

Speaking of imperfection: last week, I invited you all to visit a museum—and wrote Almere instead of Aalsmeer. Oops. My apologies! The exhibition you really must see is at the Flower Art Museum in Aalsmeer , running from February 2 to May 18 . No more excuses. Just go—preferably now and without overthinking.

Here’s to an imperfect but wonderful new year! ��

Deutsch

Ein Hoch auf die Kunst des Unperfekten – Fensterputzen und andere Lebensweisheiten

Heute war ein großer Tag: Ich habe die Fenster geputzt. Und zwar richtig schlecht. Aber keine Sorge, das war volle Absicht. Ich habe nämlich festgestellt, dass „schlecht gemacht“ die Methode ist, mit der man mehr hinkriegt, als wenn man alles perfekt machen will.

Früher, als meine Mutter die Fenster putzte, war das ein mehrstündiges Ritual: Wasser wurde mit geheimnisvollen Zutaten angerührt, die wahrscheinlich von Generation zu Generation weitergegeben wurden. Danach kam die Zeitung zum Einsatz – damit das Glas auch garantiert streifenfrei wird. Ich sage mal so: Wenn Perfektionismus olympisch wäre, hätte meine Mutter damals sicher Gold gewonnen.

Aber ich? Ich habe die niederländische Methode übernommen. Fensterputzen in Rekordzeit! Ein bisschen Spülmittel ins Wasser, mit einem Bodenwischer alles klatschnass machen, Abzieher drüber, fertig. Keine Ecken, keine Kanten, keine Streifen. So habe ich heute zum ersten Mal seit Wochen die Sonne gesehen. Und ihr wisst ja, wie ich bewölktes Wetter vertrage: überhaupt nicht.

Und genau so, wie ich meine Fenster putze, solltet ihr eure Vorsätze fürs neue Jahr angehen. Macht alles möglichst schlecht – aber dafür sofort! Kein Perfektionismus, kein großes Drama. Nehmt euch ein Beispiel an mir: Heute hat mein Mann gefragt, ob ich nicht kürzlich beschlossen hatte, auf Brot zu verzichten. Meine Antwort: „Kirschtorte ist kein Brot.“ Zack, Problem gelöst.

Apropos unperfekt: Letzte Woche habe ich euch ins Museum eingeladen – und dabei Almere statt Aalsmeer geschrieben. Ups. Tausend Entschuldigungen! Die Ausstellung, die ihr wirklich sehen müsst, findet im Flower Art Museum in Aalsmeer statt. Und zwar vom 2. Februar bis 18. Mai . Jetzt aber keine Ausreden mehr. Einfach hingehen – am besten sofort und ohne viel Nachdenken.

Auf ein unperfektes, aber wunderbares neues Jahr! ��

Nederlands

Een Ode aan de Kunst van Niet-perfect-zijn – Ramen Lappen en Andere Levenslessen

Vandaag was een grote dag: ik heb de ramen gelapt. En hoe. Heel slecht. Maar dat was met opzet. Want ik heb ontdekt dat “slecht gedaan” dé methode is om meer te bereiken dan met perfectionisme.

Vroeger, toen mijn moeder de ramen poetste, was dat een complete ceremonie: water gemengd met mysterieuze ingrediënten die waarschijnlijk van generatie op generatie werden doorgegeven, kranten om mee te poetsen, en een resultaat dat gegarandeerd streeploos was. Laat ik het zo zeggen: als perfectionisme een olympische sport was, had mijn moeder goud gewonnen.

Ik? Ik volg de Nederlandse methode. Ramen lappen in recordtijd! Een beetje afwasmiddel in het water, alles met een dweil nat maken, trekker eroverheen, klaar. Geen hoeken, geen randjes, geen strepen. En vandaag zag ik dankzij deze briljante techniek voor het eerst in weken de zon. En jullie weten hoe ik bewolkt weer vind—vreselijk.

En precies zo moet je je goede voornemens voor het nieuwe jaar aanpakken. Doe alles zo slecht mogelijk—maar doe het meteen! Vergeet perfectionisme, sla het drama over. Neem mij als voorbeeld: vandaag vroeg mijn man, “Je eet toch geen brood meer?” Ik zei: “Kersentaart is geen brood.” Probleem opgelost.

Over onvolmaaktheid gesproken: vorige week nodigde ik jullie uit voor een museumbezoek—en schreef Almere in plaats van Aalsmeer. Oeps. Mijn excuses! De tentoonstelling die je echt moet zien, is in het Flower Art Museum in Aalsmeer , van 2 februari tot 18 mei . Geen excuses meer. Ga erheen—het liefst nu en zonder nadenken.

Op een onvolmaakt maar geweldig nieuw jaar! ��

The Dark Season, Lamp Dramas, and a Viral Christmas

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Sun, 05 Jan 2025 12:25:45 GMT

DEUTSCHE Version unten / NEDERLANDSE versie beneden

The Dark Season, Lamp Dramas, and a Viral Christmas
(A cheerful and ironic account of Dutch winter gloom)

Dear art lover,

You didn’t hear from me at Christmas. Partly because I didn’t want to burden you with yet another Christmas newsletter, but also because—well, life happened. And not the kind of life that looks great in an Instagram post with candles and mulled wine, but the kind where darkness, flu, and slightly absurd adventures take center stage. So, I thought I’d take this chance to update you on what’s been going on—and, most importantly, share some bright spots coming up soon!

Normally, I have no problem with the darker months. After all, I live in Holland, not Norway. But when I set out on a Tuesday in December to buy two floor lamps because I could no longer bear the darkness at home, I knew: things were going downhill. The day began like a typical gray December morning—foggy, cold, and with a general doomsday vibe that even the most optimistic Dutch cyclist couldn’t pedal away from.

So, I marched into the lamp shop of my trust—which means the nearest one Google could find. There I saw them: two beautiful floor lamps that were destined to transform my living room into a paradise of light and warmth. The salesperson, however, had other ideas.

“I can’t sell you the second lamp,” she said with the enthusiasm of a refrigerator.
“But I’m paying for both,” I countered, as though this concept had never occurred to her.
“That one is a showroom model,” she explained, as if that answered all questions—climate change and tax returns included.

My suggestion that they could then make room for a new lamp bounced right off her stoic expression. “It’s too much trouble for my colleagues,” she finally said. Too much trouble?! In my head, I cycled through various ways to explain that too much trouble is the last thing I want to hear in a lamp shop, but in the end, I trudged home with just one lamp.

One lamp. What can I say? She tried her best. But it was like lighting a candle in a cave—cozy, yes, but still depressing. The darkness outside remained relentless, and the days seemed to dissolve into a foggy monotony. It took all my energy just to make it to the office and back, often accompanied by the growing suspicion that the sun had gone on permanent holiday.

Then, after what felt like 100 days of darkness, it finally arrived: the season of love. And it kicked off with a bang—namely, my daughter catching the flu.

“She’ll be fine by Christmas,” I thought, naively. Big mistake. It turned out the viruses were just lying in wait. By Christmas Eve, they had decided to claim every guest as their next host. The result? A living room full of coughing, sneezing, feverish people, all glaring at each other in suspicion—because someone must have started it. Long live Christmas!

By the second day of Christmas, with everyone either sick or grumpy, I made a decision: next year, everything will be different. No trees, no candles, no viruses. Instead, we’ll celebrate in summer, outdoors, in a virus-free environment—assuming the sun ever comes back. Maybe I’ll even bring the second lamp.

But let’s leave the lamp drama behind for now. Here’s what’s truly important: art. During the holiday season, I worked on my painting “Abundance” (or “Fülle” in German). It wasn’t easy, since colors look completely different in artificial light than in daylight. But with no daylight to be had, the painting has turned into something that looks particularly beautiful in artificial lighting. The colors are warmer, more intense—and somehow, that feels fitting, doesn’t it?

In fact, this was the big realization of recent weeks: I’ve come to understand that all my paintings from the last few years share a common theme—“Visions of Paradise.” Everything I paint reflects my belief that we are living in a paradise.

The nature around us is alive, thriving, and utterly indifferent to us. Plants, mammals, insects, and microorganisms all follow their own plans, blissfully unaware that we humans have declared ourselves rulers of the world. The balance of power in nature is completely different—we just fail to see it. And that’s the beauty of it. That’s why I paint nature.

And now, dear art lover, let me share three bright spots coming up soon that I’m truly excited about:

Opening of the exhibition “Polish Passion”:
On February 1st, the exhibition opens at the Flower Art Museum in Almere. I’m thrilled to announce that I’ll have an entire hall to showcase ten new works. Other artists with Polish roots will also participate. For more information, visit the museum’s website.

Workshop “Tree of Life”:
Many people have recently asked me to offer workshops, and I’m happy to oblige! As part of the exhibition, I’ll be hosting the “Tree of Life” workshop on Sunday, March 23rd, in the afternoon. Save the date—more details in this blog.

Website update:
If you’re curious, my website has been updated! You can now browse the “Visions of Paradise” series there. Of course, the paintings are much more stunning in person—but a little preview never hurts.

Perhaps that’s the lesson of this winter: even when the world feels gray and dark, there are always bright spots—whether it’s lamps, art, or the promise of an exhibition. All we need is a little hope, a touch of humor, and, every now and then, a splash of warm color.

With warm regards,
Justyna

GERMAN - DEUTSCH

Die dunkle Jahreszeit, Lampendramen und ein virales Weihnachtsfest
(Ein fröhlich-ironischer Bericht aus der holländischen Dunkelheit)

Liebe Kunstfreund:innen,

Sie haben an Weihnachten nichts von mir gehört. Zum einen, weil ich Sie nicht mit noch einem Weihnachtsnewsletter belasten wollte, und zum anderen, weil – nun ja, das Leben dazwischenkam. Und zwar nicht die Art von Leben, die sich perfekt auf Instagram mit Kerzen und Glühwein inszenieren lässt, sondern eher die, in der Dunkelheit, Grippe und leicht absurde Abenteuer im Vordergrund stehen. Deshalb möchte ich Ihnen heute erzählen, was in letzter Zeit bei mir los war – und vor allem die Lichtblicke mit Ihnen teilen, die schon bald auf uns warten!

Normalerweise habe ich kein Problem mit den dunklen Monaten . Schließlich wohne ich in Holland, nicht in Norwegen. Aber als ich an einem Dienstag im Dezember loszog, um zwei Stehlampen zu kaufen, weil ich die Dunkelheit zu Hause nicht mehr ertragen konnte, wusste ich: Es geht bergab. Der Tag begann wie ein typischer grauer Dezembermorgen – neblig, kalt und mit einer allgemeinen Weltuntergangsstimmung, die selbst der optimistischste Holländer nicht wegradeln könnte.

Also marschierte ich in das Lampengeschäft meines Vertrauens – das heißt, das nächstbeste, das Google ausgespuckt hat. Dort entdeckte ich sie: zwei wunderschöne Stehlampen, die mein Wohnzimmer in ein Paradies aus Licht und Wärme verwandeln sollten. Die Verkäuferin sah das allerdings anders.

„Die zweite Lampe kann ich Ihnen nicht verkaufen“, sagte sie mit dem Enthusiasmus eines Kühlschranks.
„Aber ich bezahle doch für beide“, entgegnete ich, als hätte sie diesen Vorschlag noch nie gehört.
„Das ist ein Ausstellungsstück“, erklärte sie, als sei das die universelle Antwort auf alles – inklusive Klimawandel und Steuererklärung.

Mein Vorschlag, dass sie dadurch ja Platz für eine neue Lampe schaffen würde, prallte an ihrem stoischen Gesichtsausdruck ab. „Das macht meinen Kollegen zu viel Mühe“, erklärte sie schließlich. Zu viel Mühe?! In meinem Kopf spielte ich verschiedene Szenarien durch, wie ich ihr klar machen könnte, dass zu viel Mühe so ziemlich das Letzte ist, was ich in einem Lampengeschäft hören will. Doch am Ende zog ich mit einer einzigen Lampe nach Hause.

Eine Lampe. Was soll ich sagen? Sie gab ihr Bestes. Aber es war, als hätte ich eine Kerze in einer Höhle angezündet – gemütlich, aber trotzdem deprimierend. Die Dunkelheit draußen blieb unerbittlich, und die Tage schienen zu einem nebligen Einheitsbrei zu verschmelzen. Mit Mühe schleppte ich mich ins Büro und zurück, begleitet von dem wachsenden Verdacht, dass die Sonne endgültig in den Urlaub gegangen war.

Dann, nach gefühlten 100 Tagen Dunkelheit, war es soweit: Das Fest der Liebe stand vor der Tür. Und es begann mit einem Knall – nämlich der Grippe meiner Tochter.

„Bis Weihnachten ist sie sicher wieder gesund“, dachte ich naiv. Welch ein Fehler. Es stellte sich heraus, dass die Viren einfach nur in Deckung gegangen waren. Pünktlich zu Heiligabend hatten sie beschlossen, sämtliche Gäste als neue Wirte zu besiedeln. Das Ergebnis? Die ganze Familie bekam die Grippe. Es lebe Weihnachten!

Am zweiten Feiertag, als alle entweder krank oder beleidigt waren, fasste ich einen Entschluss: Nächstes Jahr wird alles anders. Keine Tannenbäume, keine Kerzen, keine Viren. Stattdessen feiern wir im Sommer, draußen, in einer virenfreien Umgebung – falls die Sonne jemals wieder zum Vorschein kommt. Vielleicht nehme ich dann sogar die zweite Lampe mit.

Doch lassen wir das Lampendrama hinter uns. Hier kommt das wirklich Wichtige: Kunst. Während der Weihnachtsfeiertage habe ich an meinem Bild „Fülle“ (oder „Abundance“ auf Englisch) gearbeitet. Das war gar nicht so einfach, denn Farben sehen im Kunstlicht ganz anders aus als im Tageslicht. Aber da es kein Tageslicht gab, ist ein Bild entstanden, das besonders gut in künstlicher Beleuchtung zur Geltung kommt. Die Farben wirken wärmer, intensiver – und irgendwie passt das doch, oder?

In der Tat war dies die große Erkenntnis der letzten Wochen: Ich habe verstanden, dass alle meine Bilder der letzten Jahre einen gemeinsamen roten Faden haben – „Visions of Paradise“. Alles, was ich male, spiegelt meine Überzeugung wider, dass wir eigentlich in einem Paradies leben.

Die Natur um uns herum lebt, sprießt und kümmert sich nicht im Geringsten um uns. Pflanzen, Säugetiere, Insekten und Mikroorganismen verfolgen ihren eigenen Plan, ohne zu wissen, dass wir Menschen uns zu den Herrschern der Welt erklärt haben. Die Machtverhältnisse in der Natur sind völlig anders – wir merken es nur nicht. Und genau das ist das Wunderbare daran. Deshalb male ich die Natur.

Und nun, liebe Kunstfreund:innen, möchte ich drei Lichtblicke mit Ihnen teilen, auf die ich mich besonders freue:

Eröffnung der Ausstellung „Polnische Leidenschaft“:

Am 1. Februar eröffnet die Ausstellung im Flower Art Museum in Almere. Ich freue mich sehr, dass ich einen ganzen Saal mit zehn neuen Werken füllen darf. Auch andere Künstler:innen mit polnischen Wurzeln nehmen teil. Mehr Informationen finden Sie auf der Website des Museums.

Workshop „Baum des Lebens“:
Viele Menschen haben mich in letzter Zeit nach Workshops gefragt, und ich freue mich, einen anzubieten! Im Rahmen der Ausstellung veranstalte ich am Sonntag, den 23. März, am Nachmittag den Workshop „Baum des Lebens“. Halten Sie sich den Termin frei – weitere Infos hier im Blog.

Website-Update:
Falls Sie neugierig sind: Meine Website wurde überarbeitet! Dort können Sie die Serie „Visions of Paradise“ bewundern. Natürlich sind die Bilder in echt noch viel beeindruckender – aber ein kleiner Vorgeschmack schadet nie.

Vielleicht ist das die Lektion aus diesem Winter: Selbst wenn die Welt grau und dunkel wirkt, gibt es immer Lichtblicke – sei es durch Lampen, Kunst oder die Aussicht auf eine Ausstellung. Alles, was wir brauchen, ist ein wenig Hoffnung, eine Prise Humor und hin und wieder ein warmer Farbtupfer.

Mit herzlichen Grüßen,
Justyna

DUTCH - NEDERLANDS

Het donkere seizoen, lampendrama’s en een viraal kerstfeest
(Een vrolijk en ironisch verslag van de Hollandse winterdip)

Beste kunstliefhebber,

U heeft met Kerst niets van mij gehoord. Enerzijds omdat ik u niet wilde lastigvallen met nog een kerstnieuwsbrief, en anderzijds omdat – nou ja, het leven ertussen kwam. Niet het soort leven dat zich perfect leent voor een Instagram-post met kaarsen en glühwein, maar het soort waarin duisternis, griep en enigszins absurde avonturen de hoofdrol spelen. Daarom wil ik u nu bijpraten over wat er de laatste tijd is gebeurd – en vooral de lichtpunten delen die binnenkort op ons wachten!

Normaal gesproken heb ik geen probleem met de donkere maanden. Uiteindelijk woon ik in Nederland, niet in Noorwegen. Maar toen ik op een dinsdag in december op pad ging om twee staande lampen te kopen, omdat ik de duisternis thuis niet meer kon verdragen, wist ik: het gaat bergafwaarts. De dag begon als een typische grijze decemberochtend – mistig, koud en met een algemene apocalyptische sfeer waar zelfs de meest optimistische fietser niet tegenop kan.

Dus liep ik de dichtstbijzijnde lampenwinkel binnen – dat wil zeggen, degene die Google me als eerste liet zien. Daar zag ik ze: twee prachtige staande lampen die mijn woonkamer zouden omtoveren tot een oase van licht en warmte. De verkoopster had echter andere plannen.

"Ik kan u die tweede lamp niet verkopen," zei ze met het enthousiasme van een koelkast.
"Maar ik betaal voor allebei," antwoordde ik, alsof dit een baanbrekend idee was.
"Die lamp is een showroommodel," legde ze uit, alsof dat alle vragen beantwoordde – inclusief die over klimaatverandering en belastingaangiftes.

Mijn suggestie dat ze ruimte konden maken voor een nieuwe lamp ketste af op haar onwrikbare blik. "Dat is te veel moeite voor mijn collega’s," verklaarde ze uiteindelijk. Te veel moeite?! In mijn hoofd overwoog ik diverse manieren om haar uit te leggen dat te veel moeite zo ongeveer het laatste is wat je in een lampenwinkel wilt horen. Maar uiteindelijk sjokte ik naar huis met slechts één lamp.

Eén lamp. Wat kan ik zeggen? Ze deed haar best. Maar het was als een kaars in een grot – gezellig, maar nog steeds deprimerend. De duisternis buiten bleef meedogenloos, en de dagen leken samen te smelten tot een mistige eenheidsworst. Met veel moeite sleepte ik me naar kantoor en terug, steeds meer overtuigd dat de zon definitief op vakantie was gegaan.

Toen, na wat voelde als honderd dagen duisternis, brak het eindelijk aan: het feest van de liefde. En het begon met een knal – namelijk de griep van mijn dochter.

"Ze is vast op tijd beter voor Kerst," dacht ik, naïef. Wat een fout. Het bleek dat de virussen zich alleen maar gedeisd hielden. Op Kerstavond hadden ze besloten om alle gasten als nieuwe gastheer te claimen. Het resultaat? De hele familie ziek in bed tijdens hun vakantie. Leve Kerstmis!

Op tweede kerstdag, toen iedereen ziek of chagrijnig was, nam ik een besluit: volgend jaar wordt alles anders. Geen kerstbomen, geen kaarsen, geen virussen. In plaats daarvan vieren we het in de zomer, buiten, in een virusvrije omgeving – ervan uitgaande dat de zon ooit nog terugkomt. Misschien neem ik dan zelfs die tweede lamp mee.

Maar laten we het lampendrama achter ons laten. Hier is wat echt belangrijk is: kunst. Tijdens de feestdagen werkte ik aan mijn schilderij “Abundance” (of “Overvloed” in het Nederlands). Het was niet eenvoudig, want kleuren zien er heel anders uit in kunstlicht dan in daglicht. Maar omdat er geen daglicht was, is het een schilderij geworden dat bijzonder mooi uitkomt in kunstlicht. De kleuren zijn warmer, intenser – en op de een of andere manier voelt dat wel passend, nietwaar?

Sterker nog, dit was de grote ontdekking van de afgelopen weken: ik realiseerde me dat al mijn schilderijen van de afgelopen jaren een gemeenschappelijk thema hebben – “Visions of Paradise.” Alles wat ik schilder, weerspiegelt mijn overtuiging dat we eigenlijk in een paradijs leven.

De natuur om ons heen leeft, groeit en trekt zich niets van ons aan. Planten, zoogdieren, insecten en micro-organismen volgen hun eigen plan, zonder te weten dat wij mensen ons tot heersers van de wereld hebben uitgeroepen. De machtsverhoudingen in de natuur zijn compleet anders – wij merken het alleen niet. En dat is juist het prachtige eraan. Daarom schilder ik de natuur.

En nu, beste kunstliefhebber, wil ik drie lichtpunten met u delen waar ik ontzettend naar uitkijk:

Opening van de tentoonstelling “Poolse Passie”:
Op 1 februari opent de tentoonstelling in het Flower Art Museum in Almere. Ik ben verheugd om aan te kondigen dat ik een hele zaal mag vullen met tien nieuwe werken. Ook andere kunstenaars met Poolse roots doen mee. Meer informatie vindt u op de website van het museum.

Workshop “Levensboom”:
Veel mensen hebben me de afgelopen tijd gevraagd workshops te geven, en ik ben blij dat ik daar gehoor aan kan geven! In het kader van de tentoonstelling organiseer ik op zondagmiddag 23 maart de workshop “Levensboom.” Noteer de datum alvast – meer informatie volgt binnenkort.

Website-update:
Als u nieuwsgierig bent: mijn website is vernieuwd! Daar kunt u nu alvast de serie “Visions of Paradise” bewonderen. Uiteraard zijn de schilderijen in het echt veel indrukwekkender – maar een kleine preview kan geen kwaad.

Misschien is dit wel de les van deze winter: zelfs als de wereld grijs en donker lijkt, zijn er altijd lichtpunten – of het nu lampen, kunst of de belofte van een tentoonstelling zijn. Alles wat we nodig hebben, is een beetje hoop, een vleugje humor en af en toe een warme kleur.

Met hartelijke groeten,
Justyna

Tree of Life Workshop at the Flower Art Museum

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Sun, 05 Jan 2025 11:56:28 GMT

This workshop is for anyone interested in exploring their creative side and expressing themselves in a new way, regardless of experience with drawing or painting. It’s particularly relevant for those who want to reflect on their personal background and future, such as people from another country—a theme perfectly aligned with the Polish Passion exhibition at the Flower Art Museum in Aalsmeer. Suitable for adults and young people aged 12 and up.

Why Attend?
Imagine walking away from this workshop with not only a piece of art but also a sense of clarity, purpose, and connection to your own life’s journey. Taking the time to visualize your roots—where you come from—and seeing how far you’ve grown can be a truly grounding experience. It’s a chance to pause, reflect, and honor the path you’ve walked so far while planting seeds for the future.

Participants often find that this creative process brings a sense of calm and inspiration. Seeing your life story take shape before your eyes can be empowering and even transformative. Whether you’re looking for personal insight, a creative outlet, or simply an afternoon of mindfulness, this workshop offers something special.

Approach:
In this two-hour workshop, participants will explore the theme of the "Tree of Life" as a symbol of personal growth and connection. The process includes the following steps:

Inspiration: We begin with a short introduction to the theme and the guiding questions: Where are my roots? How have I grown? What are my plans for the future?
Exploring Materials: Participants select their favorite colors and experiment with different textures and shapes on paper, visually telling their unique story.
Creation: Using paint, drawing tools, and collage techniques, participants create their personal interpretation of the Tree of Life.
Composition: Finally, participants assemble a unique collage that visually represents their past, present, and future.

Outcome:
Each participant will leave with a personal and meaningful collage that not only reflects their creativity but also serves as a visual representation of their life story. This workshop perfectly complements the Polish Passion exhibition, which explores cultural identity.

Cost:
The workshop costs € 42,50 (and Friends of the Flower Art Museum: € 39,50) including all materials (paper, paint, brushes, and collage supplies). Coffee, tea, and water are also included.

Date:

23 March 2025 at 2 pm.

Place:

Flower Art Museum

Kudelstaartseweg 1
1431 GA Aalsmeer
Tel: +31 (0)297 - 36 44 00
E-mail: info@flowerartmuseum.nl

Discover your own Tree of Life and let your story bloom!

Overcoming the FEAR of CREATING

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Mon, 09 Sep 2024 16:09:01 GMT

How to manage the fear of creating and get unstuck!

Feeling Stuck as an Artist: How to Overcome the Fear of Creating

I’ll never forget the day when my daughter was just three years old. She sat down with a blank sheet of paper, confidently drew a single line, and then burst into tears. For the next 45 minutes, she cried inconsolably because that line wasn’t “right.” At such a young age, she was already experiencing what many of us artists face daily—the fear of failure, the frustration of not getting things perfect, and the overwhelming sense of being stuck.

This experience reminded me that you can feel stuck as an artist at any age. Whether you're three years old or thirty-three, the fear of not meeting your own expectations can feel paralyzing. I, too, spent years feeling creatively blocked before deciding to attend art academy at age 34. The decision was one of the best I ever made, but even today, I find myself stuck if I haven’t created in a while. It’s almost as if the longer I go without making art, the harder it becomes to start again.

The Fear of Judgment: By Others and Yourself

One of the greatest obstacles to creativity is the fear of judgment—both from others and from yourself. This inner critic is always lurking, ready to pounce the moment you make a mistake.

The worst part? It convinces you that not creating at all is better than creating something imperfect.

I’ve struggled with this myself. The fear of being judged for what I create (or don’t create) is powerful. I often find myself stuck in this mental loop, thinking I’m not good enough, or my work isn’t “ready.” Even though I’ve been creating art for years, this fear never completely goes away. It’s something I have to actively work through, and I want to share with you some small steps I take to overcome it.

Overcoming the Fear: Small Hacks and Steps

The key to breaking through this stuck feeling is taking small, manageable steps. You don’t need to create a masterpiece every time you sit down to work. In fact, the opposite is true. The more you focus on the act of creating rather than the outcome, the easier it becomes to keep moving forward. Start small, and allow yourself to experiment. Here are some tiny hacks that have helped me get out of creative ruts:

Don’t wait for inspiration—set a timer for 2 minutes.
Inspiration often strikes when you start working, not before. When feeling stuck, I set a timer for just 2 minutes and begin creating. It’s a low-pressure way to get started, and usually, once those 2 minutes are up, I’m ready to keep going. Do it every day!

Designate a small format for a "sketchbook of mistakes." This space is just for experimenting, scribbling, and making mistakes without worrying about the outcome. The small size makes it less intimidating and helps you focus on the process rather than the product.

Read "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron.
Julia Cameron’s book is a treasure trove of wisdom and compassion for creatives. It offers practical exercises and insightful reflections that can help you reconnect with your creativity and overcome self-doubt. The gentle approach and supportive tone can be incredibly motivating and reassuring.

As Henri Matisse once said, “Creativity takes courage.” So take the courage to begin, even if it's just with a single line on a blank page. The most important thing is to keep moving. Even if you’re crying over a line on a piece of paper, you’re still creating. And that’s what matters.

How to relax in daily life?

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 21:25:48 GMT

Find peace of mind with art in your interior

Feeling the stress lately? I've got just the ticket to help you unwind and feel refreshed—art!

Yep, you heard me right. Sprucing up your home with some art can do wonders for your stress levels and overall happiness.

Here's the lowdown: scientific studies have shown that simply gazing at art can work wonders for relaxation. It's like a mini vacation for your mind! Taking a moment to absorb the colors, textures, and vibes of a painting can switch your brain into relaxation mode. It's almost like dipping your toes into the mindfulness pool, but with an extra splash of creativity.

And guess what? Artists are some of the best collectors out there. They have this knack for finding pieces that truly resonate with them. Each new addition to their collection is a deliberate choice, a creative expression.

And guess who gets to do the same? That's right, YOU!

By picking out art for your home, you're not just decorating, you're curating your own personal gallery. You're an artist in your own way, making choices that reflect your unique style and vibe.

Having art around can also help shift your focus away from the daily grind. It's like a visual escape, reminding you to take a moment and appreciate the beauty that surrounds you. And hey, if science backs it up, who are we to argue?

So, are you ready to kick stress to the curb and invite some art into your life? Trust me, it's a decision you won't regret!

Green Thumb

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 21:09:44 GMT

Plants are nature's work of art!

I am a self-proclaimed terrible gardener. If it weren't for my husband's green thumb, all my plants would probably meet an early demise. Despite my inability to nurture them properly, I find myself utterly captivated by these living beings. It's their remarkable growth potential, unwavering resilience, and ingenious life processes that keep me coming back for more.

I'm endlessly fascinated by how plants thrive even in the harshest conditions, sprouting life in the most barren places. It's a testament to their adaptability and the remarkable tenacity of the natural world. I can't help but see parallels between their resilience and the human spirit.

My home has become a sanctuary for these green companions. I keep buying more and more of them, despite my track record of nearly killing them.

Each plant becomes my canvas, a living work of art. I paint their leaves, capturing the intricate patterns and vibrant colors that nature has bestowed upon them. It's a way for me to celebrate their beauty and acknowledge the inspiration they bring into my life.

So, while I may not be the best gardener, my fascination with plants knows no bounds. They are my muse, my teachers in resilience, and a reminder of the beauty that can be found even in the most unexpected places. In their presence, I find endless inspiration, and for that, I'll keep filling my home with these wonderful, green companions and their portraits.

The Magic of Trees

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 20:30:15 GMT

Help yourself to a little tree magic

Hey there! So, let me tell you why I'm totally obsessed with painting trees, and why I think you absolutely need some tree art in your home.

First off, trees are like these silent, majestic guardians of nature, you know? They've got this strength and resilience that just blows my mind. Whenever I paint them, I feel like I'm tapping into that same kind of inner strength. It's like they're saying, "Hey, life might throw some crazy stuff your way, but you've got deep roots, girl, and you can weather any storm."

And then there's this whole growth thing. I mean, have you ever really thought about how trees change with the seasons? It's like this constant cycle of shedding the old and embracing the new. Painting trees is my way of capturing that sense of renewal, of reminding myself (and anyone who sees my art) that change isn't something to fear—it's something to celebrate.

But it's not just about strength and growth; trees also teach us about connection. Think about their roots, all tangled up beneath the surface, supporting each other and creating this web of life. That's like us, right? We're all connected in ways we might not even realize. Having tree art in your home is like having a daily reminder of that interconnectedness, of the importance of community and support.

Plus, let's be real, trees are just plain beautiful. They've got this timeless, natural beauty that never gets old. Having tree art on your walls brings a touch of that beauty into your home, creating a peaceful, grounding vibe that's perfect for chilling out after a long day.

So, yeah, that's why I paint trees, and why I think you totally need some tree art in your life. Trust me, it'll bring a little slice of nature's wisdom and beauty right into your home, and who couldn't use a bit more of that?

Exhibition at the museum for contemporary art Kunspalast in Germany

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 16:32:27 GMT

Exiting news: My work in the museum Kunstpalast!

�� Exciting News! I am thrilled to announce that my work has been selected for exhibition at the Kunstpalast, a prestigious museum for contemporary art in Düsseldorf, for the second time! ��

The exhibition will take place in June / July 2024.

The Kunstpalast, nestled in the vibrant cultural hub of Düsseldorf, is renowned for its rich history and diverse collection spanning centuries of artistry. As I prepare to showcase my work once again within its esteemed halls, I am honored to be part of a tradition that celebrates creativity and innovation.

Did you know that the Kunstpalast boasts a stunning array of artworks, ranging from medieval masterpieces to contemporary creations? Its extensive collection includes works by renowned artists such as Rembrandt, Rubens, and Beuys, offering visitors a captivating journey through art history.

Beyond its impressive permanent collection, the Kunstpalast also hosts dynamic exhibitions and engaging events, providing a platform for emerging talents and established artists alike to share their vision with the world.

I am immensely grateful for this opportunity to exhibit my artwork for the second time at such a prestigious institution and look forward to connecting with fellow art enthusiasts and patrons of the arts at the Kunstpalast.

Stay tuned for more updates, and be sure to mark your calendars for the upcoming exhibition!

Little things are important

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Sun, 11 Feb 2024 16:44:56 GMT

Small artworks are wonderful in your interior

Often, it's the little things that can make all the difference. Collecting an assortment of small steps can ultimately lead you to your desired goal. Alternatively, you can make a significant statement in your interior by selecting small paintings that resonate with you. This way, together, we can craft a distinctive message that reflects your individuality.

Landscape paintings from the collection "Dream Landscapes", all 20 x 20 cm, mixed media on canvas. Available soon in my shop.

The Artist's Way is not always easy...

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Thu, 01 Feb 2024 16:55:08 GMT

Behind the scenes: artistic process

Picture above: me on the commissioned bench in Amersfoort

Is making art always enjoyable? My friends might think that I am always happy to create art, but the answer is more complicated.

Julia Cameron, the author of "The Artist's Way" has famously said, "Creativity – like human life itself – begins in darkness." This poignant statement emphasizes that the creative journey often starts with uncertainty, challenges, and moments of doubt. It's a reminder that not all aspects of the creative process are enjoyable, and artists must navigate through these difficult phases.

Louise Bourgeois, the influential French-American sculptor and artist, once observed, "Art is restoration: the idea is to repair the damages that are inflicted in life, to make something that is fragmented – which is what fear and anxiety do to a person – into something whole." This perspective underscores the idea that art can be a means of healing and transformation, but the process can involve confronting painful emotions and experiences.

The creative process can be a complex and multifaceted journey. It involves moments of darkness, self-discovery, and even discomfort. While not always enjoyable, it is undeniably a powerful means of expression and a pathway to understanding oneself and the world.

Beauty in Darkness

justynapennards@gmail.com (Justyna Pennards-Sycz) — Wed, 29 Nov 2023 20:53:51 GMT

Dark colors in your interior

I have a deep love for the dark colors of water at night. One memory that always comes to mind is a sailing trip during the nighttime hours. As we returned to shore, we waded through the water, and to my surprise, it felt wonderfully warm. That moment left an indelible mark on me and has since become a recurring theme in many of my paintings.

My art is often inspired by the enchanting combination of starry nights and the reflective, mysterious allure of water.

Dark colors, in all their depth and complexity, have a story to tell. They invite us to explore the hidden, the unknown, and the uncharted. They challenge us to look beyond the surface and discover the layers of beauty that lie beneath. It's a reminder that there is often more to things than meets the eye.

So, don't shy away from the dark colors of water at night. Embrace the beauty they offer, and let them inspire your imagination. Just as that warm water on that memorable night surprised and delighted me, you might find unexpected wonders in the depths of the night's darkness.