Journal by Alba Lois

Art and the life

The winds are changing

The urge to write hasn’t been as present these last few weeks. I keep thinking about Spain and how good that change of environment was for me. There, the words just came out in the same effortless flow as my creative practice. 

I’m going to be honest moving back home has been a transition. It’s so double-sided. On one hand, it’s incredibly comforting to return to our actual physical home and all the safety that comes with it. On the other, I’ve felt a little lost and I’m determined to keep some of the force I found in Spain alive here. 

In an attempt to land and “not rock the boat,” I’ve made some decisions to create space for new things and small changes... Excited is an understatement 💛

By Alba Lois.

I’m so so grateful for music. Sometimes it’s the melody, sometimes it’s the lyrics, but somehow they always seem to meet me where I am. I hope you have songs that do the same for you.

By Alba Lois. 

The home of the heart

The weeks since arriving home have flown by. They’ve been filled with unpacking six months of life, celebrating weddings and making memories with the kids. And of course preparing for my exhibition, July 22–26 in Falsterbo. This body of work carries so much of what I experienced and felt while living in Spain. I painted there with a new sense of intention and dedication. I found myself drawn to a new colour palette and I formed beautiful connections with collectors from around the world. My heart felt at home. Now I get to share the result of those moments with you, and that feels really special.


By Alba Lois.

Estepona

I have finally had the chance to experience this town at the pace of everyday life. There is a kind of beauty that has nothing to do with the postcard-perfect streets. It lives in the people here and in the way they shine. I see people dressing elegantly simply to take an evening stroll. I watch different generations care for and support one another. And never, not once, does life seem rushed. I am met with smiles and often with a few extra words beyond a simple hello when paths cross in the elevator. 

Cheek kisses, once foreign to me, now feel like a natural expression of warmth and connection. Experiencing my creative process here has been a gift in itself. The abundance of daylight seems to soften something within me. My shoulders relax, my mind slows down and I find myself creating from a calmer, more grounded place. This slower rhythm has been so nourishing for my practice. I came here hoping for new experiences. I’m leaving with new wonderful friends and a deep appreciation for this place. It has given me more than I ever expected. Estepona, you have been a warm embrace for my soul, thank you. Until we meet again. 

By Alba Lois.

Exhibition July 22-26!

For the second year, I’ll be exhibiting my latest artworks at Anderssongården in Falsterbo. Last year was such a joy and I can’t wait to do it all again. I hope to see you there. For now, I’m packing up my remaining pieces here in Spain and somehow packing up a chapter of life abroad too. Bittersweet doesn’t quite cover it. Sweden, see you soon.

By Alba Lois. 

Learning new things 

A few months into learning Spanish in everyday life, I can’t help but wonder: do we take learning new things for granted? I studied Spanish for several years in high school and I even lived in Malaga for a few months in my early twenties. Even so, I find myself relearning the language as if it were the first time. What about all the time I invested before? Haven’t I already put in the work? It’s hard and at times defeating. I have this feeling that some parts of me get lost in translation. But I’m also humbled by the task. And there are moments when I feel like I’ve got it!

Martha Stewart said that her motto is to learn something new every day. I don’t know why that stuck with me, but thinking about learning brings me back to personal growth. The desire to keep evolving is essential. So maybe feeling defeated in the beginning of learning something new isn’t that bad after all. It’s just a reminder that you want to know more, understand more and hopefully see things from a new perspective. Maybe we do take learning new things for granted. At least until we find ourselves at the very beginning again. 

By Alba Lois. 

Time as a time frame factor

Spain, what early on felt like a warm hug to my soul has now, almost six months later, become a place that simply makes sense in my life. I think a lot about time, and what six months feels like in different contexts. In long-term planning, half a year can feel far away and almost intangible. But now that I’m on the other side of it, it hits me. No matter what we do and no matter how we feel, time passes. I’m so grateful that my family and I chose to move to another country as an adventure. As an active choice to truly value a period of our lives. And it sure has been (and still is!) an adventure, but it’s also so much more than that. I look at the future with curiosity. Soon we’ll be back home, and I have two art exhibitions on the horizon. I’ll share more about that soon. But mark your calendars: July 22–26 🍓

By Alba Lois. 

Friendships

To me, friendship, and its almost inseparable link to connection, is and always will be something I value tremendously. To be seen, understood, and most of all, to have someone who genuinely wants to share life with you. That feeling, who would want to live without it? 

A dear new friend of mine (who I must have known in another life) and I were talking about oversharing, and she reminded me of something important: being vulnerable and open won’t push people away. It will only bring the right ones closer. 

With gratitude for my relationships, both old and new, I created two art pieces. They come from a place of believing in myself and from trusting that what I send out into the world, I will receive in return. 

And to my friends: I love you.

Friendships 170 x 150 cm, Sold

The light in what you share 179 x 130 cm, Sold

By Alba Lois. 

Remembering in sound

I got a vinyl player for my birthday almost ten years ago. I had always wanted one, and I just knew that listening to a full album in that way was what I was craving. I had, prior to even owning a player, inherited a few records, one of them being Bridge Over Troubled Water by Simon & Garfunkel. I remember it so vividly. The scratching sound of a well-used record and the ticking from the tonearm. But what struck me most were their voices and the instruments. It was so clear and so pure, and I felt like they were right there in my living room, performing live! 

If you get the chance, don’t just listen to music digitally. The experience is unbeatable. 

By Alba Lois.

This is April

We went on a little 24-hour escape to Tarifa and somehow found the most special hidden gem. With two small kids, we usually focus on what works for them, but this place gave something back to me too. Little beautiful details everywhere I looked. The kind that makes you slow down without even trying. And the horses… I can’t really explain it, but something in me just settles when I’m around them. Life is moving so fast lately. It’s full, and honestly, it’s not without its challenges. But even in the middle of all that, I can still feel the joy, the love and the connection. In a few months we’ll be back in Sweden. 

I wonder if my hydrangea will be in bloom by then? 

By Alba Lois. 

Slow art tv

My mind has been resting a lot on slow content lately, and on allowing patience to live in the silence in-between. It is not always easy but it feels important. I trust that if I gently step out of my own patterns, or the patterns we are all used to, my kids will feel it too and maybe grow into a more patient way of being. When I create there is only now. And in my studio my mind is slowly reloading while at the same time my soul feels full of purpose. I feel so grateful for that.

Can you allow yourself a softer pace today, even if it’s just for a moment?

By Alba Lois. 

The mimosa trees are in bloom

I feel, in many ways, already like a natural part of my new home. I study art supply terminology in Spanish so I can talk with the store owner. I go to gym classes entirely in Spanish. And I meet new people with a curious mind. I love the language - damn, do I try to speak it! And when I try and fail, I’m met with grace and encouragement. So I try again. It reminds me how much of life is shaped by our fear of failing. But with just a little encouragement, courage grows quickly. And the growth that follows is priceless. I notice this in my art too. There’s courage in my process here. I choose vibrant colors. My mind feels calm and my body wants to dance. Excited to see what next week will bring.

By Alba Lois. 

Back to stretching canvases

The first order of stretcher bars has arrived in Spain. It feels good to see my latest works in their proper costume. I learned to stretch my own canvases early on, and holding on to this part of the process (even though I could easily outsource it) gives me a deep respect for the craftsmanship. Creating with my hands anchors me. Feeling the sensation in my fingertips and the weight in my hands is something I appreciate every day.

As I’ve mentioned before, my grandad was an artist and later in his career he suffered from arthritis. Arthritis is something I live with as well. Not knowing whether I’ll always be able to work this hands-on can feel unsettling at times. But more than anything, it makes me grateful that I get to do it today.

By Alba Lois.

Change of scenery

I find myself in a chapter of many changes, not only the change of a physical location and an actual move from the home I knew. I feel my perspective gets the opportunity to, maybe not change, but to notice new things and learn from them. I feel brave and I feel proud. Because change is not always easy. As I walk the streets of my new surroundings in the morning, I greet the light. I meet friendly new faces at my children’s new schools. And I have parrots chatter outside my studio! Beauty is everywhere. I’m eager to see how these new insights and impressions will find their way into my paintings. 

Are you ready to discover that with me? I hope you’ll come along for the ride.

By Alba Lois. 

A Chapter Called a Year

I feel a soft glimmer of excitement in my body. A new year is just around the corner. For me, a new year isn’t about big changes. It’s a moment to look inward and ask myself if I’m moving toward the life and purpose I’ve chosen, not the one I fall into by habit. This year gave me direction. A focus that felt crystal clear, even though it came through a lot of grief. Through losing a friend who in many ways was a guiding light. There has also been so much joy and growth this year. I had the chance to exhibit my art in beautiful spaces and I got to meet you. That alone warms my heart. Hearing your thoughts, your stories and knowing that my art, in the midst of it all, has touched you in some way. It means more than I can say. Thank you, truly.  

I’m here. I get to live this life. And if 2025 taught me this much about who I am, what will 2026 bring? I can’t wait to find out.

To circle back to self

When I left my job to become a self-employed creative, I knew I was stepping into uncertainty. And for someone who’s always leaned on structure, that felt like its own kind of leap. But I also felt, with a quiet clarity, that I needed to go. That this change mattered. 

Now, with another transition on the horizon, I feel a tender eagerness rising. A sense that something different might offer light in ways I can’t yet see. When I meet people whose whole presence vibrates with their true self, I feel genuinely inspired. And the more I circle back to myself, the truer I feel. I’m choosing to listen, to feel and to express. My artwork carries that same gentle truth and I hope you can feel it too. 

By Alba Lois.

The past week

As the hours of daylight reduce and the autumn leaves fall to the ground, I find myself immersed in a lot of work. I focus on balancing productivity with letting my mind rest on the little beautiful things around me: children’s laughter, candles lit and some warm tea. The darker days can be overwhelming sometimes but as I remind myself, I want to remind you, from my heart, that everything you send out will find its way back. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

By Alba Lois.

Connection

In order for me to create, produce and move through the process, I seek connection. To sense the vibrations of belonging and to connect with other people. Do you know the feeling? With that said, the most precious part is feeling connected with myself. To listen, to feel, and to allow whatever wants to be done, created or expressed. That becomes my guidance.

By Alba Lois. 

’A place for everything’
Some days you might feel scattered, like pieces of yourself belong in a hundred different worlds. Trust that even what feels misplaced has a home somewhere nearby.

By Alba Lois.

The quiet joy of waiting for a new day, not out of impatience, but from the simple belief that tomorrow holds magic.

By Alba Lois.

Remembering in sound

Now that my kids are getting older, I get to revisit so many nostalgic animated movies I loved as a kid. But I’m also discovering new ones with them, like Sing 1 & 2. Besides being great movies, the soundtracks are full of classic hits. I now have sing-alongs with my kids to songs by U2, Coldplay, The Beatles and Stevie Wonder and I’m glad they get to hear these old favorites, songs they probably wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.

By Alba Lois. 

There are so many parts of this creative life where I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. But when it comes to creating, that part I know.

By Alba Lois.

It’s been a week since I closed my exhibition. The joy I felt. Indescribable. That same week, I also lost a dear friend. As my heart tries to navigate this whirlwind of emotions, I realize there is space for all of it - grief and laughter, pain and joy, creativity and hollow stillness. I’ll sit with it all. 

Feeling the connection and the creativity we shared was something I’ve rarely experienced with another person. To discover that there are people who make your thoughts feel more understandable and most of all, more true. What a rare and quiet bliss. I’m forever grateful that she taught me that. 🤍

By Alba Lois.

Remembering in sound


My dad and I share a deep curiosity for music. Every week, we exchange new songs, preferably by up-and-coming artists. For example, Dad once sent me “Royals” long before Lorde’s big breakthrough. He’s the one who taught me the importance of truly feeling the rhythm in a song, and how dancing can bring the music to life. On cleaning days at home (back when I was a kid), this was exactly the kind of music he would play. Thanks to the music, cleaning didn’t feel nearly as bad.

By Alba Lois.

EYES WIDE OPEN
You can stand in a room, be there in body but absent in spirit. Time slips by, a quiet thief, if the ordinary is taken for granted.

’EYES WIDE OPEN’ is about clarity and connection - facing both love and fear with equal tenderness, nourishing them with the same open heart. 

By Alba Lois.

Creative DNA

My granddad was an artist and a sculptor. When I was growing up, he had a studio in his house where every corner was filled with tools, wood, saws and art. Back then, I was mostly fascinated by all the stuff, less so by the creative process itself. As I got older, I began to explore my own creativity.

Sadly, he passed away before I truly gave painting a real chance, and I often wish I could tell him all about it. But in many ways, he’s here with me, through every brushstroke. When I visit the art supply store (I can picture him walking down the same aisles), and whenever I pack my paintings into the backseat of his old car - I imagine him doing the exact same thing, years ago.

Knowing he honored his creativity and created a life around his art - inspires me to do the same.

By Alba Lois.