My name is Maria Raczkiewicz Sledziewska. I returned to drawing and watercolors after nearly thirty years — thanks to my daughter, who gently inspired me to pick up a pencil and brush again. My son, always cheering me on, believed in my sketches even when I doubted them. Both have been quiet yet powerful sources of courage and light. My husband, too, offered encouragement with every little step.

Painting became a way for me to heal and breathe again after a very difficult time. When I draw or paint, I lose all sense of time. The world seems to slow down, and I enter a space where only colour, form, and light exist. I fall in love with fleeting, beautiful sights — a curve of a tree branch, a forgotten street corner, the changing play of light. I dream of painting them all.

I’m especially drawn to capturing the poetic in the ordinary — the stillness in passing time, the beauty of nature. It may sound like a cliché, but when I truly pause and look around, that quiet beauty feels like everything that matters most.

Painting allows me to lose myself completely. As a literary translator by profession, I see a deep connection between painting and translation — both are acts of rendering reality into another language, whether visual or verbal. Painting, like translating a book, is a way of seeing again, more truly. After many years devoted to translation and editing, painting has become a new chapter in my life — one that opened a space for tenderness and quiet strength.

I was honoured to receive a Certificate of Artistic Achievement from the Luxembourg Art Prize, awarded for high artistic quality. Along with a letter of appreciation, it gave me much-needed encouragement and deepened my commitment to creative growth.

I’m also passionate about children’s literature and illustration, and I believe deeply in the lasting impact of both language and image on personal development. My approach values tenderness, detail, and emotional resonance.

The words of the Greek poet Odysseus Elytis -

“You’ll come to learn a great deal if you study the Insignificant in depth” -

may seem simple, but they are deeply foundational. They resonate with me like a quiet motto. So does his poem about the beauty of simplicity:

I can become happy with the simplest things,the most insignificant...

even the everyday ones of every day.

It is sufficient for me that weeks have Sundays,

and I am satisfied that years keep their Christmas for the very end...

that winters have stone houses dipped in snow

that I know how to discover the hidden bitter herbs in their hiding places.

It is enough for me that four people love me

a lot…

It is enough for me that I love four people

a lot…

that I spend my breath on them alone;

that I am not afraid to remember;

My paintings may be small, imperfect glimpses — but they are full of breath, colour, and care. A way of remembering, of loving and longing, of pausing to truly see.

If one of my paintings speaks to you, I would be honoured for it to live on your wall — a quiet companion, a breath of light in the rush of days. Prints and originals are available (I share only a few at a time), and I’d love for one to become part of your space. Each piece sold helps me spend more time painting and slowly reshape my life around what I love.

And if something in my work resonates with you, or if you have a personal idea or wish, feel free to reach out — I’d truly love to hear from you. Your thoughts always inspire me.