I am Susanne Witzig, a contemporary artist specialising in abstract art. On this page, you can learn more about my journey into art, my artistic development, and the thoughts that continue to shape my work.
My Journey to Art
I have been painting since childhood.
I never simply saw colours — I felt them.
While others painted the world around them, I created abstract worlds filled with colour and imagination. Yet instead of encouragement, I was often met with criticism and rejection. My work was ridiculed, criticised, and even torn apart in front of my classmates.
Eventually, I stopped painting.
Not because I had lost my love for it, but because I had learned to adapt, to fit in, and not to stand out.
For many years, art no longer played a central role in my life. Instead, I followed a path shaped by responsibility, achievement, and the desire to meet the expectations of others.
Only much later did life lead me back to painting.
During a period of profound physical and emotional challenges, I rediscovered art. What began as part of a therapeutic process became something far greater.
I did not only find my way back to painting.
I found my way back to myself.
Today, I paint from the same intuition that guided me as a child.
Through my work, I explore transformation, trust, and the courage to find one’s own path — even when it seems to have been lost for a long time.
Because art means freedom to me.
And perhaps it is also the reason why today I can finally be who I was always meant to be.
“Today
I can
finally
be
who
I was always
meant to be.”
My Artistic Approach
My work emerges from the dynamic interplay between intuition and structure.
I often begin without a fixed plan, allowing colours, forms, and movement to find their own direction. Throughout the creative process, spontaneous decisions meet deliberate composition, chaos meets symmetry.
I am not interested in depicting the visible world. What fascinates me is what lies beneath it: emotions, memories, inner movements, and the stories that shape us.
In this way, my paintings remain open to individual interpretation and invite new perspectives to emerge.
The Journey Behind My Art
❤️
What Moves Me
For me, art begins where words are no longer enough.
Every painting starts with a feeling, a memory, or an idea quietly searching for its place on the canvas.
What unfolds from there is never shaped by my hand alone.
It also comes to life through the person who encounters the painting, bringing their own thoughts, memories, and emotions to it.
Where Every Journey Begins
Before my paintings found their own language,
there was only curiosity.
A quiet desire to express something
that words could never fully capture.
Looking back,
I can see that each series grew naturally from the one before it.
At the time, I couldn’t see the connection.
Today, I recognize that every chapter tells part of the same journey.
Where It All Began...
I didn’t begin painting because I wanted to become an artist.
I began because something inside me was searching for a way to be expressed.
There were no clear lines.
No geometric structures.
No sense of order.
There was only movement.
Only color.
Only the quiet beginning of something I couldn’t yet understand.
This is where my very first series was born:
Flowing & Staccato
Flowing & Staccato
It All Began with Movement
It all began with movement.
Not the kind of movement we can see.
But the movement of my thoughts.
A quiet longing to give shape to something that had remained unspoken for a long time.
The colors began to flow.
Sometimes gently.
Sometimes with sudden intensity.
Almost like music.
That is how the name Flowing & Staccato came into being.
These paintings were intuitive.
Free.
Untamed.
They knew nothing of geometry.
But they already knew trust.
Looking back, I can see that everything which followed was already present within them.
Including the series The 12 Seasons.
Discover the artworks from the “Flowing & Staccato” series here ⇒ Flowing & Staccato
12 Seasons
According to the calendar, there are only four seasons.
To me, however, every month has its own unique character.
The light changes.
The colors change.
The air feels different.
Even the very same landscape tells a new story with every passing month.
Nature is my place of stillness, strength, and quiet reassurance.
Whenever I spend time outdoors, my thoughts begin to settle.
Many ideas are born there, long before they find their way onto the canvas.
It was this deep connection to nature that gave rise to my series The 12 Seasons.
Rather than portraying spring, summer, autumn, and winter in the traditional sense, each painting captures a unique moment within the rhythm of the year — a moment shaped by colors, moods, and memories that belong to that month alone.
Perhaps that is why, for me, there are not four seasons, but twelve.
Each has its own language.
And each one reminds me how much beauty can be found in change.
A New Beginning
The journey through The 12 Seasons did not end with an ending.
It became the beginning of something new.
Nature had taught me that every season of change carries the seed of new life.
Little by little, my own world began to brighten.
Strength returned.
Hope returned.
And with every step, I rediscovered a sense of lightness that had quietly been waiting for me.
Discover the artworks from the “12 Seasons” series here ⇒ 12 Seasons
The Lightness of Being
This small series was created during a time when, for the first time in a long while, I began to feel truly free again.
Not because every challenge had disappeared, but because I had found a new way of meeting them — with hope, trust, and quiet confidence.
The forms became lighter.
The colors more radiant.
The compositions almost seem to float.
Circles meet, connect, and create playful relationships with one another.
To me, they have become symbols of hope, trust, and the joy of being alive.
The Lightness of Being is about those precious moments when we can finally breathe again.
It speaks of feeling carried forward without denying the weight of the past.
Above all, it is a quiet reminder that healing is possible…
One step at a time.
Discover the artworks from the “The lightness of Being” series here ⇒ Lightnes & Being
When Harmony Gives Way to Chaos
The Lightness of Being was created during a time when my health was slowly returning, and with it, my trust in life.
At the same time, however, it became increasingly clear that the career which had shaped so much of my life was coming to an end.
Almost overnight, many of the things that had given my days structure disappeared.
Routine.
Responsibility.
Precision.
The certainty of knowing what tomorrow would bring.
What was suddenly missing in my outer world, my inner world began to search for in a different way.
And it was from that search that Chaos & Symmetry was born.
Chaos & Symmetry
In these paintings, chaos and order meet.
Lines, circles, and geometric forms enter into a dialogue with free, spontaneous fields of color.
What first appears unstructured gradually begins to find its place.
Looking back, I sometimes wonder if my paintings were revealing something long before I was able to understand it myself.
Perhaps the geometry was my soul’s quiet way of searching for the structure that had shaped my life for so many years.
No longer in my profession…
…but on the canvas.
Out of the initial chaos, a new kind of order began to emerge.
Not a rigid order.
But one that could grow.
One that could change.
One that left room for creativity.
Today, I believe that this is what harmony truly means.
Discover the artworks from the “Chaos & Symmetry” series here ⇒ Chaos & Symmetrie
When Harmony Emerges from Chaos
At first glance, my paintings may appear vibrant, unpredictable, or even full of contrasts.
But the longer I live with them, the more a quiet dialogue begins to unfold.
Colors find their place.
Lines begin to connect.
And from many individual elements, a harmony slowly emerges—one that could never have been planned.
It is this process that continues to fascinate me.
I rarely begin with a fixed destination.
Instead, I leave room for the unexpected and trust that every painting will discover its own path.
Perhaps there is a quiet message in that—not only for my art, but for life itself.
Some of the most beautiful things come into being when we have the courage to welcome the unexpected and trust that something new can grow from what first appears to be chaos.
Why Every Painting Is Seen Differently
People sometimes ask me what a painting is meant to represent.
My answer is always the same:
What do you see?
That, to me, is the true beauty of art.
A painting does not live solely through what I place on the canvas.
It also comes to life through what each person discovers within it.
We all encounter a painting with our own memories, experiences, and emotions.
That is why there is no single, correct interpretation.
There are countless possibilities.
And every one of them is meaningful.
Perhaps a painting speaks to you in one way today.
And perhaps, months or even years later, you will discover something entirely different.
The painting has not changed.
But you have.
When Opposites Begin to Dance
I love the moment when apparent opposites begin to move in harmony.
A vibrant color gains its strength from the stillness that surrounds it.
A clear line finds its true expression through the freedom that gives it space.
Nothing exists in isolation.
Everything is shaped by its relationship with something else.
This is how a painting comes to life for me.
Not through perfection.
But through balance.
Not through sameness.
But through the quiet conversation between differences.
Perhaps art reminds us that life is not made up of opposites destined to compete with one another.
Perhaps it is made up of encounters…
…where our differences allow something entirely new to emerge.
Why Perfection Doesn't Interest Me
Many people describe my paintings as precise.
Lines meet one another.
Forms come together in quiet harmony.
Every element seems to have found exactly where it belongs.
But precision is only part of my process.
It has never been my goal.
What truly inspires me is the joy of discovery.
I never begin with a finished image.
I begin with a feeling.
A quiet sense that something wants to emerge.
From there, I allow the painting the freedom to find its own direction.
Some lines appear unexpectedly.
Colors surprise me.
And not every path leads where I thought it might.
It is precisely these unexpected moments that bring a painting to life.
The finished work may appear effortless.
Its journey never was.
And perhaps that is exactly what makes it feel real.
Why Precision Needs Freedom
When people look at my paintings, the first things they often notice are the clear lines, the geometric forms, and the precision of the composition.
Yet what appears carefully planned at first glance usually begins in a very different way.
There is no finished vision waiting at the beginning.
Only colors.
Thoughts.
And a feeling that quietly sets something in motion.
I leave room for the unexpected and trust that the painting will reveal itself, one step at a time.
Only when the painting begins to find its own balance does structure emerge.
Lines connect.
Forms begin to support one another.
And from the freedom of the creative process grows the precision that eventually becomes visible.
To me, these two seemingly opposite forces cannot exist without one another.
One gives meaning to the other.
Because precision does not emerge despite freedom.
It emerges because of it.
Order Is Not Created Through Control
People sometimes ask me if every detail of my paintings is planned from the very beginning.
My answer is always the same:
No.
Of course, there are lines, forms, and decisions that are made deliberately.
But before they find their place, I allow space for the unknown.
I observe.
I experiment.
And I give the painting the freedom to become what it wants to become.
To me, order has never been something rigid.
It emerges through the quiet dialogue between freedom and precision…
…between trust and intention.
Perhaps that is where its greatest strength lies.
Not everything needs to be controlled for harmony to emerge.
Sometimes it is enough to stay present…
…to pay attention…
…and to trust the process.
Because the most beautiful kind of order is often the one that unfolds naturally.
Trusting the Chaos
Chaos makes many people uncomfortable.
To me, it offers possibilities.
Whenever I stand before a blank canvas, I never know where the journey will lead.
There is a feeling.
A quiet sense that something wants to emerge.
But there is no plan.
No fixed direction.
And no guarantee that every decision will be the right one.
Yet I begin anyway.
With a color.
A line.
A single thought.
From these first small steps, something gradually begins to unfold…
…something I could never have imagined at the beginning.
Sometimes the painting gently leads me away from where I thought I was going.
Sometimes it asks me to explore an entirely new path.
And sometimes, I lose a painting along the way.
Oddly enough, that is often where the most fascinating part of the process begins.
Over time, I have come to understand that some things cannot be forced.
They simply ask us to wait until the moment is right…
…and to trust the chaos.
Not because it is without order.
But because I have learned that, hidden within it, everything the painting is meant to become is already there.
Perhaps chaos is not the opposite of order.
Perhaps it is where order begins.
Art Is Not My Destination. It Is My Journey.
I never tried to find a style.
Instead, I learned to trust my own evolution.
Every series was necessary…
…so the next one could come into being.
Trust Changes the Way We See
When I truly began to trust the chaos, I stopped trying to control it.
I no longer felt the need to perfect every line or refine every detail.
Instead, I learned to pause.
To observe.
And to listen.
With every painting, it became clearer that chaos is not the absence of order.
It has a logic of its own.
A quiet inner structure that only reveals itself to those who are willing to give it time.
Gradually, relationships began to emerge between forms, colors, and space.
They reminded me that what matters most is not always what first catches the eye.
Sometimes it is the quiet presence beneath the surface that holds everything together.
Everything grows out of the process.
I don’t have to force it.
I simply have to recognize it.
When Forms Begin to Answer
Over time, something unexpected began to happen.
The individual elements no longer existed side by side.
They began to communicate.
Lines responded to lines.
Colors influenced colors.
Shapes were drawn toward one another…
…or gently pushed apart.
A quiet resonance began to emerge.
And from that resonance, something new slowly took shape.
A growing sense of density.
Not as a goal.
But as a natural consequence.
From Chaos & Symmetry to Between Resonance & Density
Sometimes a series changes not because I plan it to…
…but because the paintings themselves begin to lead the way.
When I was working on Chaos & Symmetry, I was exploring the delicate balance between opposites.
Order met chance.
Lines, shapes, and colors searched for their place—sometimes in harmony, sometimes in quiet tension.
Yet with every new painting, something unexpected began to happen.
The individual forms no longer existed on their own.
They started to respond to one another.
Each line influenced the next.
Every color changed the ones around it.
Between them, something new began to emerge:
A quiet resonance.
The longer I observed this silent conversation, the more my compositions began to condense.
Not louder.
Not more chaotic.
But more focused.
Little by little, a new visual language revealed itself.
Discover the artworks from the “Between Resonance & Compression” series here ⇒ Between Resonance & Compression
Why I Share My Paintings
For a long time, I believed that my paintings were telling my story.
Today, I see them differently.
I believe their own story begins the moment they leave my studio.
From then on, they no longer belong only to me.
They meet people with their own memories, experiences, and emotions.
Every person sees something different.
And to me, that is one of the greatest freedoms of art.
When my paintings are exhibited in galleries or exhibitions, my hope is not simply to be seen.
What truly matters to me is that people find a part of themselves within them.
That they pause.
Take a quiet moment.
Perhaps smile.
Perhaps begin to wonder.
Perhaps feel something they never expected.
Because that is the moment when a painting truly begins to live.
The very same painting may offer comfort to one person, awaken hope in another, raise questions, or simply bring joy.
Every one of those experiences is valid.
Art does not need to be explained.
It only needs to be felt.
That is why it means so much to me to share my work in galleries and exhibitions.
Not because the paintings are hanging on a wall…
…but because that is where encounters begin.
Encounters between people.
Between thoughts.
And sometimes between a painting…
…and a feeling that may have been waiting a long time to be discovered.
In moments like these, art becomes a language that needs no words.
To me, a painting is only truly complete when someone stands before it…
…and discovers their own story within it.
Explore highlights from my exhibitions here ⇒ Exhibitions
