Being an Autistic and ADHD Artist

People often ask where my ideas come from.

The honest answer is: I have no idea.

My brain is constantly throwing strange things at me. A pigeon eating pizza. A raccoon collecting treasure from a pile of trash. A strawberry sitting next to a skull. Most people seem to sort their thoughts into neat little categories. Mine prefer to collide with each other at full speed.

I was diagnosed with both autism and ADHD as an adult, and looking back, it explains a lot.

I've always felt slightly out of step with the world around me. Small talk never came naturally. Crowded places drain me quickly. My attention can become completely absorbed by things that fascinate me while everyday tasks somehow feel impossible. At the same time, my brain is endlessly curious and constantly searching for unusual connections.

For a long time, I thought this was something I needed to fix.

Now I see it differently.

Many of the things that once made me feel strange are the same things that make my art possible.

I live in a small village in northern Germany with my husband and our two children. Life here is quiet. Between family life, school runs, cats, unfinished projects and endless cups of tea, my mind keeps building strange little worlds in the background.

Those worlds eventually became what I now call Candy Decay.

Candy Decay is the name I gave to the visual universe that appears throughout my work. Bright colours. Cute animals. Junk food. Sweetness. Trash. Bones. Decay. Humour. Melancholy.

It reflects how I experience the world.

I notice beauty in things that are often ignored. A damaged toy. A discarded pizza box. A pigeon nobody pays attention to. The contrast between something cute and something uncomfortable fascinates me. Life is beautiful, ridiculous, fragile and weird all at the same time.

In early 2026, that feeling became even stronger.

After suffering a carotid artery dissection, I was forced to slow down and reevaluate many parts of my life. Recovery brought fear, uncertainty and a new awareness of how quickly everything can change. It also pushed me to stop worrying so much about what my art was supposed to be.

Instead, I started creating what felt true.

The result was Candy Decay.

Not because I planned it.

Because I finally stopped trying to filter myself.

Today my paintings are filled with scavengers, pigeons, strawberries, bones, junk food, strange creatures and tiny stories. Some people find them funny. Some find them unsettling. Most people find them a little difficult to explain.

I think that's exactly why they exist.

Being autistic and having ADHD doesn't automatically make someone creative. But in my case, it has shaped the way I see the world. It taught me to notice details others miss, to question rules that don't make sense, and to follow ideas wherever they decide to go.

Even if that leads to a pizza-loving pigeon.

Especially if it leads to a pizza-loving pigeon.

Welcome to Candy Decay.

Welcome to Paintranger.