Unconsciously she appeared triumphant.
Yet she was always with me.
As a child, I was playing in the “wild river” as his name means in German.
My eyes beheld the top of my valley. A windy summit, often snowy which had held true historical dramas (cruel stake for too many women in the past.)
I began to shiver over the dark fate of the wild woman. But her power could not be muzzled. It had not even been reduced to ashes. The fire had only released them …
During the night, the wild woman returned.
In the creaking of wooden beams of my childhood home, she was there.
In the restless wind, like a haunting melody, she was there.
The Haxes (regional name given to witches burned at the stake) came back to haunt us and I really thought that I heard their complaints (while hiding under my bed sheets!)
I had no idea that it was actually their calling songs: the wild woman trying to wake me to wear, in turn, its values.
She has not lost hope … she remained confident as I walked away (miles away!). She can wait. In us, she’s smiling because she knows well (oh yes she knows it!) that she will spring.
And finally I collided with her.
Finally I recognized her, alive, vibrant first in my paintings and finally, FINALLY in me.
She’s with me when I laugh, when I cry, when I rage, when I love, when I paint.
Therefore, I now sign my works with my name (Fanny) and hers (Wild).