Some introductory lines:
In spite of the fact that since I was a very little girl I have been sculpting, painting and drawing – in school books, on edges of newspapers, on bits of wood, in sand, on stone, and later on lovely and frightening sheets of paper – I did not start as a professional artist until I was well grown up. I did try to enter The Promised Land of Art when I was nineteen; I went to France to learn the language, and one day I entered the Académie de la Grande Chaumière to do nude drawings. Without writing home. I was the eldest and had been strongly advised not to choose art as a profession.
I did my nude drawings, but that winter my father became ill and handicapped. My parents needed help. My twenties and thirties were meander running between parents, my own family, studies, and a research job. An interesting and challenging life, but at the same time a life with a deep sorrow. I had ended on the wrong shelf. So at thirtyfive I started more meander walking – art studies in Sweden during periods every year, research at the Institute of Transport Economics, and the family. When the works of the first ten years of painting and drawing were to be presented, the exhibition was transformed to ashes – a pyromaniac was terrorizing Eastern Norway. Photos had not been taken. I had nothing to show. The night after the fire I tore down wallpapers in a room in the house and painted on the walls.
Now, after many paintings and thousands of drawings, I feel grateful for a rich, challenging and unpredictable life; for what my eyes have seen and for the deep knowledge that my hands possess of materials and their possibilities. My memory is my body and my instrument for taking new steps and finding new paths. With paper or canvas as my partner. And as a last line – I believe I must be the only person in the world using a vacuum cleaner as a drawing instrument.