The excitement when something is coming up is contagious… The production work is endless (a little more practice and the production could start feeding me…), I’m turning into a meticulous detailer, the energy demand increases, the tension rises, I feel like a hamster, that sums it up supplies for the winter. Every time I learn something new and my curator teases me with successive doses of ideas. Yes, I know if he had dumped it all on me at the beginning, who knows if we would have made it this far: packed, transported, written, printed… we have already have got…

The exhibition in the Starý Avion Gallery awaits, installed in smooth and warm cooperation with my curator Ľudko ​​Petránsky, my husband Miloš Novák and my daughter’s friend Filip Chobor. All this, of course, with the great support of gallerist Janka Gappa Chrappová. Vernissage outfit prepared, wine from the Purus winery chilling, refreshments served, tension and excitement rising. The first guests arrive before six o’clock, and then a whirlwind of hugs, joy, speeches, fantastic drumming, excitement… I allowed my creativity to fully express itself and during last summer and autumn, I created, painted, drew… I let myself be carried away by…

If someone had told me a few years ago that I would be preparing an exhibition in a real gallery, I don’t know if I would have believed that they were talking about my world. And here we are. The opening is already in sight. Preparations are in full swing. I am gradually ticking off items from my to-do list. It is both enjoyable and exciting. Sometimes I have doubts. How will it all turn out? Will the works be liked? Will people come to the opening? However, I will not get discouraged by no means. I proceed step by…

… it may come true for you. It’s no secret that my birth name is Bošňáková. Everyone has a name. Moreover, as a child, you do not choose a name, neither a first name nor a surname. So seen from the middle-aged perspective: no stress, sweetie…But in the early school years, when you are sorted neatly alphabetically in the classification record, the surname gains its weight. Especially if there is a punctuation mark on almost every letter in it. Until I got married, my surname was hardly pronounced and spelt correctly at any competition, summer camp, or anywhere I went.  I was…

I love layers. In a good cake, for example. Honey slices like my Mom used to make for Christmas. Yum. Or lasagna, à la Bolognese or even with zucchini, when the layers are fine-tuned. I love that taste, too. I also love layers in housing. Also, the gradual occupation of space, a bit of eclecticism, mixing family history with souvenirs, and hobbies, when all members of the household (including children, dogs, guinea pigs, fish, permanent guests, etc. of course) contribute their unique part of energy. Such an apartment or house is also yummy. I love layered cities. Those who admit their…

My story continues along the way through the mountains. I don’t know if there will be seven of them. Getting over the first one is not easy. As long as I’m afraid, I won’t step out. A path, sometimes a road, sometimes a highway, or even a wormhole into a different universe begins to unfold ONLY AFTER the first step is made. The energy put into the first step and the next and the next starts to twist my own universe and things emerge to happen. The first step is difficult, it hurts. Anyway, did I step out well? When…