Sarah’s new Series. „We used to know“ is a series about a girl on a journey. A journey through herself.

She carries dreams she knows are worth protecting. Because the world is loud and fast and takes a lot without asking.

The series reminds of lightness. Of trust. Of knowing, the way kids know, that things can work out.

When I was a kid, I had a dream. A big one. And somewhere along the way, the world got loud. Too loud. And the dream got quiet. I think a lot of us know that feeling. This piece came from a moment where I decided to stop listening to the noise. A little girl, an astronaut suit, and one question painted across the canvas: who says I can’t? She’s looking right at you. She’s not asking for permission. She’s just asking: do you still remember yours?

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on canvas, 150 x 200 cm
(SOLD)

The deepest ones fly the furthest.
Diving feels like flying. Every time. All weight gone. Everything still. And then comes the curiosity. To discover things that are barely reachable. Kids have that so unfiltered. Maybe they help us learn to fly again.

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on canvas, 85 x 195 cm

Kids feel more than we think. We try to protect them, and that’s right. But there’s a moment, when they’re old enough, where pretending doesn’t help anyone anymore. This girl knows something is heavy. And instead of turning away, she holds out her superwoman doll. Quietly. Without making it a big thing. Not because she should carry his weight. But because she’s choosing to, with all the love in her small chest. That’s the moment I wanted to paint 🪁

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on canvas, 150 x 200 cm
(SOLD)

People who are quiet often carry the greatest thoughts within them. And in this fast, loud world, we sometimes overlook that. When did you last truly listen?

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on Cardboard, 150 x 200 cm

A reminder to believe in flying again. She sits on his shoulders, her hands over his eyes. Not to take away his sight but to give him a different one. She still believes. In flying. In possibilities. In paths you don’t always understand right away. While we grown-ups calculate and doubt, she simply lifts off. Maybe we don’t always need to see more. Maybe we need to learn to see differently again. With the heart. With trust. With that childlike courage that says: Come, let me show you something.

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on Cardboard, 150 x 210 cm

As a child, you simply trust. No doubt. No questions. No fear. You hold your father’s hand and believe the world is good. That people are honest. That promises mean what they say. Then you grow older. And suddenly trust is no longer a given. It becomes a decision. A risk. A weight. This image holds that moment. She still holds his hand. The kite still flies. But the question will come.

Acrylic, charcoal and mixed media on Cardboard, 150 x 200 cm

(SOLD)

I grew up with opportunities I didn’t earn.

Not everyone does. And it’s something I think about more often than I talk about.
This girl isn’t me. But she carries something of me. She wears old flying goggles, and the sky behind her isn’t bright. She’s been through things. You can see it in her face.

And yet, she’s still looking up.
I painted her because that kind of quiet courage deserves to be seen.
The courage to keep believing. To keep dreaming. To keep moving forward, even when life gives you reasons not to.
Maybe that’s why I feel connected to her.

Not because she tells my story, but because she reminds me of something I never want to forget: how much of our future depends on the opportunities we’re given, and what we choose to do with them.

Charcoal on Canvas, 90 x 150 cm