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Friends, I am so honoured to introduce to you my fifth and final guest on this 'Braving The Wilderness' project: the amazing Ella Cohen (aka EllaKookoo)! Ella is an award-winning illustrator and graphic artist living and working in Berlin, and I've been a fan of her work for many years now. So, imagine my pleasure when I met her last summer during an event in Paris organised by @agence_la_suite. Very inspiring and fun meeting her. I am so thrilled she accepted to be part of this project. Please go check out her work on Instagram and her website and enjoy the read! ✌️ . Braving The Wilderness // Strong back. Soft front. Wild heart // feat. @ellakookoo . I was the firstborn of two Israeli parents, and a first grandchild for my holocaust-surviving grandparents. As one can imagine, my much-anticipated arrival was celebrated not only as a joyful addition to the family. It also marked the beginning of a new branch in our felled family tree. The name chosen for me, Ella, is the Hebrew name for the Terebinth tree, or 'Pistacia palaestina' as it's sometimes called. Wildly common in Israel and Syria, it's known for its remarkable resilience and impressively long life span. As a young 80's child with a very uncommon name (Ella, with the stress on the second syllable, was a pretty rare Israeli name back than), I was quite oblivious to most of that. Mostly it just felt like my unique name was a burden, perpetuating my oddity when all i wanted was to fit in. Only years later, as i made peace with it, did I learn how inspiring trees are for me. How enduring and yet accommodating they can be at the same time, living through great storms while staying put and simply tilting until the wind calms down. Trees are persistent, reliable, and always authentic, and these are all values I strive for in my creative and personal journey.

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Braving The Wilderness // Healing Through Collective Pain On a sunny afternoon in the summer of 2015, my life changed drastically. As I was preparing my usual sandwich for lunch, someone knocked at the door of my coworking space (that day, only my friend Amelie and myself were there). As I opened the door, I didn’t have the time to say hello before I got punched right in the face. I fell to the floor and tried to protect myself as I was then hit on the elbow with a baseball bat. The next second, five guys rushed into our space and stole everything that was Apple-branded, leaving us completely horrified and helpless. As I tried to scream for help, I got punched again with a bat and they threatened to kill me if I screamed again. They then vanished as fast as they had arrived, leaving both of us in a state of shock. End result: my left elbow was broken and I was to have surgery. I know this is shocking. Even writing these lines a few years later feels weird to me. The reason I’m telling you this story is because it didn’t end there. Truth is, I wasn’t traumatized as much as I could have been, and many people asked me what my secret was for recovering so fast. The answer is community. I didn’t feel alone during that whole mess. We were flooded with phone calls, text messages and emails of love and support. Family and friends visited us. And to finish, our direct community of friends helped us financially to buy replacements for the stolen equipment (a Macbook pro and a big Mac screen). No need for insurance, human solidarity was the cure. Also thankfully, my illustration business wasn’t too impacted and the surgery and physio on my arm went fine. Today, this all feels like a distant memory. I think I would have been much more traumatized if I hadn’t felt as supported as I was. Friends shed tears so I didn’t have to suffer alone. Some were angry and therefore I felt heard. People collectively shared our pain and mobilized themselves in very concrete ways to help us morally, physically and financially. This changed everything, and it surely helped me recover faster than expected. As Brené Brown would say: “ We don’t always have to walk alone.”

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Braving The Wilderness // The Chair of Reconciliation

My dad is a terrible dancer. Believe me, you don’t want to see it. It’s embarrassing. What kid wouldn’t be embarrassed by their beloved daddy making a spectacle of themselves in public? It’s common history as we’ve all have these kinds of family experiences. Stories we like telling during family reunions and that become legendary over time. My dad’s legend involves a chair. And dancing at a wedding.

We were all gathered in a venue during the evening meal. It was a nice but modest wedding as there weren’t more than a hundred people at the party. There was music, food, and of course, wine. The bride and groom were friends of my parents. They had both become believers a few months prior and decided it was a good thing for them to get married. As they were from non-religious backgrounds, half of the guests and their families were non-believers. The other half of the room was made up of people from church, which my parents were from. As the room was small, there were two very long tables around which the guests were seated. The newly married couple didn't want this to happen but as the guests organised themselves the room ended up divided in two: believers on one side and non-believers on the other. No one wanted to sit next to a stranger. Later on, as the music got louder, family and friends hit the dance floor. But the church people didn’t. As if dancing was kind of forbidden, they stayed seated. The idea church folks were boring, too serious and not fun to be around was understandably reinforced. And suddenly, what do I see? Exasperated by that scene, my dad went into the middle of the dance floor with his chair, stood on it and started dancing ridiculously. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’m not actually sure my dad likes dancing at all, but there he was, showing off in front of everyone, and it was hilarious. And as if that was some kind of a green light, lots of the people from church started joining the dancefloor. Regardless of their ideologies, they were all having fun to-ge-ther. I remember I was quite proud of my dad that night. Maybe he’s not such a terrible dancer after all.

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Friends, today is a special day as I am so pumped to introduce to you the amazingly talented Stephanie Wunderlich! I've been a fan of her work for a few good years now, and I am so impressed by her cut paper collage technique. Her compositions are rich, complex, meaningful, full of lovely details with a lovely retro edge. And most of it, it's mostly done by hand!! I also love the beautiful story she's been sharing for the sake of this project. Please have a read and go follow her work on Instagram @stephaniewunderlich, you won't regret it! . Braving The Wilderness // Face-to-face VS Online Connection // feat. Stephanie Wunderlich . My mother started using the internet only two years ago. Originally just because she wanted to have means to communicate with my teenage daughter who went to the USA for one year. My mother lived very reclusive and she was quite peculiar and complicated when it came to communication. She hardly asked any personal questions, nor would she tell much of any personal stories. When she was asked questions, she would give evasive answers or just grab a marginal incidental aspect of the topic. It could be tough to have a fluent conversation. Add to that at times she had a quite eccentric way of playing with sounds while talking, repeating single syllables like she was discovering them for the first time how strange they sound, clicking her tongue in between, sighing and wobbling her head. By communicating with her via email and Whatsapp I discovered total new aspects of her. She could be funny and witty and could bring things to the point like she could hardly do in a personal conversation. Strange as it sounds, I could develop a special new sort of closeness via email to her. Also, the clicking, sighing and wobbling wasn’t available as means of expression online. . Sadly my mother died last Christmas. I knew that she communicated via email with an old friend she knew since university. The only friend from the old days she still had. I looked for her address in her account and sent that friend a note that my mother had passed away. To my surprise, we started a long conversation via email. I was incredibly thankful that she shared all these memories of their common time together. She told me about my mothers first love experience, her difficult relationship with her own mother, her missing the father she lost in war, her childhood experience as a war refugee, her desperation when my father left her for another woman. So many things that I would have loved to hear my mother talking about. But she just couldn’t share it. I deeply love her and miss her a lot. I even miss hearing her eccentric singsong way to talk. Never thought I would miss that.

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Hello everyone! Please welcome Owen Gent as my third guest on the 'Braving The Wilderness' project! 🙌 Owen is a super talented illustrator based in Bristol who I got to know through the internet and social media. His work is so impressive, mysterious, oneiric and poetic. Definitely the kind of pictures I love to lose myself into (like if I was in some kind of a beautiful dream). Please go follow him on Instagram (@owen_gent) to discover his beautiful work 👌

Braving The Wilderness // No Man's Land // Feat. Owen Gent 🇬🇧️

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Braving The Wilderness // Seeking Collective Joy 

I love that scene from Jude Apatow’s movie “Funny People” when Seth Rogen awkwardly asks this girl he wants to invite to a Wilco concert: “Do you like music?” “Did you ask me if I liked music?” she replies. “It’s like asking me if I like food.” Of course she likes music! Who doesn’t? But to go next level, Seth Rogen knows a live show is a completely different thing. Youtube and Spotify are great but they can’t replace the energy, the raw emotion and the shared experience of a live concert. If we can listen to music in our own bubbles why bother gathering in venues to hear it live? Because there’s nothing like this amazing feeling of inextricable human connection.

One of my most vivid memories is of being at a “Mumford and Sons” rock concert. I like that band. I’ve never been crazy about them but I’d liked them enough to buy a copy of their first album “Sigh No More”. But I wasn’t so into their latest album “Wilder Mind” - I missed the banjo parts. But then, my wife and I were invited by a couple of friends to see them live. And what a night! Suddenly there we were, with our good friends and hundreds of strangers, all packed together, sweating, singing and screaming these songs at the top of our lungs. I had no idea who these people around me were, and even if I wanted to, it would be impossible to know them all. But we hadn’t come to get to know people we had all come to feel connected to something greater than us. And that “something” was embodied by music, lyrics and us being together. Regardless of our factions and ideology, for one night, we were all experiencing and sharing the same emotions, and none of us felt lonely. It actually felt like communion.

Sometimes we get submerged in the online world and ignore the real life connections around us. As Brené Brown would say: “The more we’re willing to seek out moments of collective joy - for real, in person, not online - the more difficult it becomes to deny our human connection, even with people we may disagree with. We are wired for connection. But the key is that, in any given moment of it, it has to be real.” For that’s what it means to be alive.

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Braving The Wilderness // On bullshit (part 2): humanising and looking beyond

Nowadays, I often feel the temptation to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I don’t like to be misunderstood nor labelled something I'm not. And in order to keep a neat public image, it would be easier to separate myself from the people compromising my image instead of pushing through the maze. I think it’s fair to say we don’t like being boxed or reduced to simplistic ideas. We are more than walking clichés. We all have nuances and each of us has a backstory and a context leading to who we are today. Each time things get complex because of misconceptions, I try to remind myself I’m not just dealing with ideas but with human beings. And on a deep basic level, I believe we all deserve respect. As much as opinions people have could sound like bullshit to me, I know that trying to silence them because their words are uncomfortable to me isn’t the solution. People are more important than ideas and therefore I will try my best to preserve the relationship by being civil.

I believe in civility, and I believe it goes hand in hand with boundaries, patience and kindness. Boundaries first, because even if people are worth more than their opinions, it doesn’t mean they don’t affect me. With time passing by, I’ve grown in knowing myself better and matured in noticing what is edifying to me and what isn’t. Which relationship is healthy and which is less. Where my energy is really useful and where it’s less. I believe it’s my responsibility to handle my time wisely and to use it where I believe it’s really worthwhile. By respecting boundaries, I can actually be a better person. Secondly, patience because I know building healthy relationships takes time. It’s not because I decide to push through the maze that things will be easy. Often relationships are discouraging and the temptation to unplug is still present. So reminding myself things are not magical is really helpful. And finally, kindness because it's the best weapon to fight BS with. It preserves the relationship, allows for real discussion, transformation can happen and it leaves us with a better understanding of each other. BOOM babe!

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Braving The Wilderness // On bullshit (part 1): a backstory

Let me start with a disclaimer. This article has been difficult to write because I don’t want to hurt anyone nor come across as judgmental. Know that I very much love the folks I’m about to write about (as I’m still involved in that faith community) and I know there was a time and a context in which these widespread ideas I’m about to mention took place.

Early 2000, I was in a Protestant Evangelical church. Back then, within the faith community I grew up in, « Urban Evangelical legends » (as I call them today) were very common. Here are a few examples that may cause you to feel nostalgic: smoking or getting tattoos was sinful, rock music was the devil’s music, Harry Potter was a dangerous read because of witchcraft and Lord of The Rings was borderline but ok because JRR Tolkien was a Roman Catholic. Sounds crazy right? Today, it may sound trivial to you, but to a young teen like me, it meant the world to me. I wanted to fit within my faith community so badly but on the other hand, I wasn’t buying into all of it. It felt sickening. So I started to ask questions: where does your information come from? Does the Bible really say so? Have you properly studied this topic before coming to this conclusion? I was the annoying kid always asking questions. Since then, in order to keep my faith sane and authentic, I had to debunk bullshit.

Brené Brown explains that bullshit is different from lying. Lying is knowing facts and defying it. Bullshitting is a dismissal of the truth as it isn't supported by concrete data. She explains how we often rely on bullshitting when we feel compelled to talk about things we don’t understand. It is understandable: we can’t have a proper opinion on everything, but bullshitting makes things worst. As for me back then, these authority figures in my life suddenly held opinions that supposedly were true but weren’t supported by real evidence. My little castle was crumbling and I had to find out for myself. This is the actual backstory to why I later studied theology in Oxford. I had to learn for myself, and I loved it.

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Guys, I am so pleased to introduce to you my good buddy, french illustrator BENJAMIN FLOUW as my second guest on this ‘Braving The Wilderness’ illustration book club! I’ve been following Benjamin for a few years now, and I’m such a fan of his work. I love his compositions, his taste in colours, textures and how he treats lights and landscapes. I always feel in awe when I see his pictures. Go follow his work on Instagram @bflouw and enjoy the read. Thanks man! 🙌

Braving The Wilderness // People are Hard to Hate Close up. Move in. // Feat. @bflouw

I can't really stay angry at people. In fact, I do have some angry reactions, for example when I'm working on an exciting illustration project and the client makes a request and I find that request so absurd, so wrong that I feel betrayed. Anger is my first response to that, and when I start to feel angry, that person in front of me suddenly turns into something else, a creature called: Theclient.

If you are a freelancer like me, you have already heard about Theclient. It's that gigantic beast with a big teethy mouth and a cigar in it that doesn't know anything about art and keeps repeating this sentence over and over: « Make the logo bigger ! ». You've heard terrible stories about him, there are blogs and twitter accounts dedicated to his misdeeds.

That's pure dehumanization as Brenée Brown describes it in this chapter. There's no Theclient, it's a myth. A myth that leads you to the quickest and more primitive reactions of our reactions: fear. And as a wise person once said « Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate… leads to suffering.”

So, if you ever see Theclient, take a step aside. Or better, take a step FURTHER. And then you'll see the actual individual, you'll see his motives and you will be able to try to put yourself in his shoes, to empathize. That's one way to find a satisfying common ground and that's why I can't stay too angry at someone for too long.

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Braving The Wilderness // I refuse I refuse to dehumanize people. I refuse to label others based on their gender, religion, political views, or sexual orientation. I refuse to not make an effort. I want to go deeper. I refuse to forget people are individuals, not walking clichés. I refuse to believe relationships are not worth it and should be painless. I refuse to idealise certain people. We’re all flawed. I refuse to see people who think differently than me as a threat. I want to listen. I refuse to embrace false dichotomies and see things black and white. Reality is nuanced. I refuse to believe things should be easy. People are complex. I refuse to think misunderstandings are abnormal. They are normal. I refuse to let fear take away my freedom. It’s too precious. I refuse to choose hate over pain. Hate is too much of a price to pay. I refuse to avoid pain. Better fight to make things better than burry my head in the sand. I refuse to not seek help when I need it. I am not limitless. I refuse to believe boundaries are selfish. They are necessary. I refuse to be defined by people’s assumptions and shortcomings about me. I refuse to hide and not be seen. I refuse to be labelled an idealistic.

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Friends, I am so excited to share with you my first guest on this 'Braving The Wilderness' illustration book club project! His name is Jangojim and he's an amazingly positive and funny illustrator from Antwerp in Belgium! Jango Jim and I got to know each other for the last few years through social media and it was a pleasure to meet him for "real" a few months ago during a trip to my home country. It was also a pleasure to have him on board on this project 👌 Braving The Wilderness // The Quest For True Belonging // Feat. Jango Jim

I grew up as a happy shy child in Antwerp (Belgium) near old factories. I'd been drawing since I could hold a pencil. It taught me to enjoy being alone. In primary school I dreamt of becoming a comics artist. Later in high school I tried my best to fit in and be liked. My interest for drawing waned. I was a geeky teen with a love for sci-fi. Inspired by guys like Spielberg or Jim Henson I wanted to go to film school. My parents thought that was too risky. So I went to University to study literature. For the first time I found a real connection with friends. Long talks about philosophy, music, movies, art. Still something was missing.

During boring classes I rediscovered a deep love for drawing. I became obsessed. Eventually dropped out of University. No degree, intense guilt towards my parents and my then girlfriend broke up with me. Felt like the biggest loser in the universe. As if it couldn't get any worse one of my best friends suddenly died of cancer. It hit me hard, but it was also a wake up call. Life is short. I decided to revisit my childhood dream of becoming an artist and go for it.

Even if I failed, I would have at least tried. It was the best decision I ever made. My self-confidence grew. I got to know all these amazing creative friends that make me feel I'm part of a big art family. I got to meet my girlfriend. I'm so grateful for being able to make silly drawings to entertain and inspire others. Adding to that, I'm constantly working on myself to be a better version of me to the people I love and work with. I learned to look at failure as part of the journey to grow. I try to be someone that spreads good vibes, stays curious and never expects anything. Everyone's journey is different. Listen to the calling in your heart. Brené Brown writes that we can't change who we really are. The more you discover about yourself I think you should also imagine what your potential could be. There's no stopping you if you go for the best possible version of you, despite the struggle. In this life there's more to lose if you don't try going for that. I'd say go for it!

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Braving The Wilderness // Why I Am An Artist

French writer André Malraux used to say “Art is the quickest way from one man to another”. I really do believe this. I think that as humans we’ve always wanted to communicate. We do this thing: we speak to each other. We try to express things. And I think art is sort of an elaboration of that. Think about music, painting or dance. No words are used, and yet it moves us. Somehow, it resonates with us. Something inside of us “clicks”. It’s that “click” I’m searching for. Through my visual work, I try to create a place for these moments of connection.

I don’t know about you, but one thing I hate is never ending debates. I’ve had too many and I’m sick and tired of them. For just about anything, we’re kind of always ready to get riled up and talk at length with someone just to prove that we are right and they are wrong. We see this everywhere: in our families, at work, in the press, on television, on social media. The point of these conversations is rarely to learn something and understand each other. Very often, it becomes a violent game of who-screams-the-loudest just to silence the enemy. And slowly but surely this is what we are becoming: enemies. And enemies have to be erased…

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think debates are always a bad thing. I think it’s important to stand for who we are and what we believe. Debates are very useful and important when done respectfully. But let’s be honest, it’s rarely the case. That’s why I believe so much in the power art! NO, I’m not a big fan of debates. But NO I don’t want to disengage. I want to be present. I want to join in the ongoing cultural conversation. I have just chosen another path. One that doesn’t involve punching the person I’m speaking to. If words are easily divisive, I believe art can help us find our way back to one another. That’s why I’m in the game. When people separate themselves from each other by locking themselves into their ideological bunkers, I want to build bridges. I want to create beauty that brings people together. In the words of Palestinian movie director Hany Abu-Assad “Beauty is the ultimate act of resistance.” Then, that makes me a member of the resistance.

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Braving The Wilderness // Into The Wild

Not such a long time ago, I started a process of deconstruction and reconstruction of some preconceptions and ideas I had. Dearly held beliefs needing the dust to be blown off. Something in me woke up and pushed me towards exploration. It feels like the computer game ‘Age of Empire’, remember that one? At the early stages you have a map that is all dark except for the tiny bit where you stand. And as you play and explore, the map lights up and reveals its secrets. The more you explore, the more resources you discover (stone, wood, bronze, silver and gold). And with these, you are able to build villages and castles. You build strategies to create an empire and then evolve from the stone age to the bronze age, and so on. Meanwhile, of course, you make enemies, you engage in battles, and you try to win. To me, the wilderness looks a lot like this game.

Brené Brown defines the wilderness as “an untamed, unpredictable place of solitude and searching.” It’s a deserted place you feel so called towards that you are willing to go all on your own. It’s Luke Skywalker’s dark cave in the Empire Strikes Back. Brown not only talks about braving the wilderness but also becoming the wilderness. It’s about willingly exploring unknown territories not knowing how you are going to end up on the other side. That’s why she also talks about the courage to stand alone. “It’s about breaking down the walls and abandoning our ideological bunkers.” In other words, it means opening up. Of course, it’s not about adopting every ideology that comes our way. That would be foolish. But it’s being able to follow and explore the things that gives us real life by allowing ourselves to change, no matter what people say. Brené Brown also said, “The wilderness can often feel unholy because we can’t control it, or what people think about our choice of whether to venture into the vastness or not.” It’s true. At times, I feel scared of what people will think. But the silver and gold I’ve found is not something I’m ready to trade to go back to olden days. I’m heading forward - into the wild.

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Braving The Wilderness // The birth of discomfort (part 3): Lonesome believer I know religion is an absolute taboo in France. I know people are uncomfortable talking about it. I KNOW. But faith has so much been part of my upbringing and the sense of the divine too close to even try to escape it. It’s how I was wired. It’s part of my family culture. Nowadays, it’s just part of my DNA and there’s very little I can do about it. It’s a journey I’ve been on since I was a young boy. I was born into a practising protestant family. So it’s very natural that my parent's faith would be passed on to me. From the stories we were told and the values we were handed over, to the shared beliefs and close friends we had, Christianity was always at the core. But with this sense of community also came a terrible feeling of loneliness. I would have loved to have had a friend at school that was part of my faith community, but that wasn’t the case. Most of my classmates were from non-religious backgrounds. The things that were seen as obvious at home suddenly vanished once in the school playground. I felt different and alienated; and part of it was definitely because of me. I was the perfect product of a religious “Us and Them” worldview, which was the cause of my own ostracizing. Either was I too busy trying to convince my mates that I was right and they weren’t or too busy trying to avoid anyone or anything that could cause me to “fall”. Certainly not the best way to make friends... To find a new sense of belonging I had to wait for Sunday. But church wasn’t any better. If Christians were supposed to be my peeps, I certainly didn’t fit the standards (ask anyone who has listened to Christian hardcore and they’ll know what I mean). I always felt caught between two stools: too zealous for the school kids and not zealous enough for the church folks.

As a result, when it comes to faith, I’ve always felt very lonely. I love the sense of hope, awe and calling it has brought into my life. And at the same time, it’s such a complex and loaded topic. I feel so uncomfortable with its religious shortcuts that it’s been hard for me to find people to belong with. Are there any other believing sceptics out there?

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Braving The Wilderness // The Birth of Discomfort (part 2): Art as the only solution

Very often I hear people telling me how blessed I am to earn a living doing what I love. But very few know that it was birthed in discomfort. To be completely honest, art has always felt like my only option.

Like most people, I’ve been drawing pictures since I was a kid. Very early on, my parents saw I had some kind of a talent and encouraged me to pursue it. Art felt like my superpower and I wasn’t going to let it go. You can imagine that during all of my schooling being a non-sporty dude was a big deal. In high school, it felt like a curse. The popular boys were those who were good at football. As for me, I didn’t have a strong sense of humour, my parents couldn't afford to pay for expensive clothes and I didn’t play the “girlfriend-boyfriend” game. For high school standards, I definitely wasn’t the cool kid on the block.

But when it came to artistic expression, it was my time to shine! From age six until I was eighteen, one of my hobbies was acting class. I loved it. Twice a week I could be someone else. And I could be funny. In high school, I was pretty good in French class. When it came down to books, literature, poetry, creative writing or oral expression, I was the man. I was especially good at performing in front of the class. I may well have been good, but it didn’t mean I was popular. No one wanted to perform after me. It made my classmates uneasy. Until one day, one girl couldn’t cope with it, and in front of all my class, she shouted at me “Why can’t you be like everyone else?! Why do you have to always be so different?!” I remember that moment like it was yesterday. One of those that probably had a stronger effect on me than you’d expect.

This moment didn’t discourage me from drawing, but it made me believe a lie which I struggled with for a long time. It said: “You’re an artist, you're different and therefore you're difficult to love.” Art may have been a way to exist, but it was also a cross to bear. As if I was an anomaly but there was no way to escape myself. Maybe becoming a professional illustrator is my way of transforming this curse into a blessing.

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Braving The Wilderness // The birth of discomfort (part 1): Born Belgian

A French friend of mine told me he didn’t understand why I was so obsessed with the country I come from. He was right. Belgium. I am obsessed with it. Every book I can find, every artist I discover, every interview I read that can help me understand my origins, I’ll get my hands on. What else could I do? Such a tiny but complex country. Also such a divided one. Every tension is crystallized around one issue: WORDS. Yes, in Belgium we mainly speak two languages: Dutch and French. And many of our problems come from that language barrier.

As a Belgian, I’ve never really known where I belong. My mum’s mother tongue is French (she’s Walloon) and my dad’s is Dutch (he’s Flemish). From the day I was born, it has felt like I have been told “Son, you have no choice, you’ll have one nationality but you’ll be a mixture of two cultures, Latin and Germanic”. And since that day, it’s been a never-ending tension.

Two thirds of my family speaks Dutch, but at home we mostly spoke French. I studied in French, and because I lived just next to the French border, most of my friends were also French. But these same French friends would tell me my French wasn’t “the right way of speaking it”. It felt weird and embarrassing. All I wanted to do was express myself, and it was already wrong. Yes, it is well known that Belgians have an inferiority complex. Being the neighbours of the huge nation that is France, we feel small. We also have a complex with words and I’m no exception. As a matter of fact, I became extra careful with my words. I became self-conscious (and sometimes embarrassed) of how we talked at home. I developed a fear of being misunderstood and an obsession with saying things just the right way. All this related to one thing: the shame of communicating badly.

Today, I know I have to embrace these two cultures battling inside of me. I also need to leave behind this complex whispering “Who cares about Belgium?”. My challenge is to transform that word-related shame into something good. And maybe that’s why I am an illustrator. After all, aren’t pictures universal?

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Braving the wilderness // A new season

Do you like reading books? I really do. Many many books. One of my dreams is to, one day, have a massive library full of beautiful books at home. One where each book has a special meaning to me. One I can stare at with a smile and remember where I was at when I was reading it. The kind of books I love reading are the ones where I get to learn something. I love it! It is important to me to be able to recognise which season of my life I’m in and, according to that feeling, surround myself with some good ol’ books so I can dig deeper. I know I could develop interest in lots of different subjects, but being in tune with my inner self is more important to me. So I have learned to stop and listen. Which season of my life am I in?

Believe me, I didn’t plan this. But it just so happened that Brené Brown’s new book Braving the Wilderness was published bang on when I needed it. I had just started going on a personal quest: one of unfolding who I am and searching for “true belonging”. I wasn’t looking for it. It happened organically, and I needed it. Like the hero of any good story, I needed to go on my own journey. Not someone else’s journey. Mine. And in order to accomplish this, I need the courage to stand alone. But alive. That’s where this life-giving tension lies. It’s not easy but it’s thrilling. It requires a lot of courage trying to live according to the values I REALLY believe in, to focus on what’s really important while getting rid of the unnecessary, to articulate my own ideas and open up to new ones and not being shaken, to own my struggles and take responsibility, to be open-handed while not denying myself and finally to face my own paradoxes. To do so, I have to go into new territories and I’ve got to move into a new season. And this, nobody else but me can do. This, my friends, is an adventure.

Welcome to the wilderness.