10 Questions with Madlyn (Alauda Georges)

Madlyn has been making art for as long as she can remember. She grew up drawing with her grandfather and sewing with her grandmother — quiet afternoons filled with fabric scraps, pencil shavings, and silence that said more than words. These early gestures, humble and sincere, shaped her way of being in the world. Creating was never a performance, but a way of staying close to herself.

Today, as an eighteen-year-old French artist, her art does not aim to impress, but to touch. Each piece is born from a fleeting thought, a phrase heard or spoken, a wound remembered, a moment of fragile clarity. In every line she draws, there is something of herself — a fragment of soul, a tender echo of her inner world.

After a long pause marked by silence and suffering, by time spent in psychiatric wards and the long road of healing, Madlyn has returned to art not as a profession, but as a vital act of survival. Her drawings are her way of speaking again, raw, unfiltered, vulnerable.

She doesn’t create to decorate the world, but to reach into it. To connect. To say: I was here, and I felt this. Her art is a gesture of trust — an offering of intimacy to the stranger who dares to look closely.

@alauda_s_heartbeat

The Truth Inside Her, Acrylic On Canvas, 50x70cm, 2024 © Madlyn (Alauda Georges)

INTERVIEW

First of all, let's talk about you. Can you tell us a little about your journey as an artist?

I've always drawn. My grandfather taught me how to observe and sketch, and my grandmother passed on her love for sewing. Those quiet, tender afternoons shaped the way I experience creation, as something humble, close to the body and soul, and emotionally true. Then came the rupture. Depression, silence, psychiatric hospitalisations. For a long time, I stopped creating. Not by choice, but because the connection was gone. I felt numb. I couldn't draw, and I couldn't access what had always saved me. Returning to art wasn't a decision. It was a necessity. I came back to it like someone gasping for air. Not to build a career, but to survive. Since then, drawing has become a space of truth, raw, fragile, but mine. A place where I can speak again, even in whispers.

When did you first get interested in art? And what inspired you to pursue this career path?

There was no starting point — I've always drawn. From the beginning, it wasn't about making something nice. It was about letting something out. I was drawing emotions, not objects. I was trying to make silence visible. I never saw art as a career. I never said "I want to be an artist." I just kept drawing, then stopped, then started again — and I realised I needed it to live. Art chose me long before I could choose anything. And slowly, I began to understand that what I was drawing was not only helping me — it was touching others too.

Veil, Ink on paper, 21x29.7 cm, 2024 © Madlyn (Alauda Georges)

How would you describe your artistic style or approach?

My work is fragile, raw, and emotionally charged. I try to capture the invisible: trauma, dissociation, silence, resilience. I often work in black and white, with lines that tremble or disappear, with faces that split or dissolve. I don't seek to illustrate — I try to evoke. I almost never reach the image I had in mind at the beginning.When I create, I don't follow a concept — I follow a feeling. I respond to what's moving inside me. I draw not to say something clear, but to let something honest come through.

What materials or techniques do you enjoy working with the most?

I work a lot with ink on paper, graphite, glitter pens, and watercolour, but also with acrylic on large canvases. I love sketching. I love working with pens. I love layering, blurring, scratching, and tearing. I love fragile materials — paper, thread, dust, emotion. I tend to stay close to black and white, but I often return to deep reds, violets, and blues — colours that hold silence and intensity at once. And honestly, I love everything about art. Portraits. Silhouettes. Bodies. Lines. I'm deeply moved by artistic gestures in all its forms — from drawing to dance, from pottery to poetry, from ceramic to sound. Art is not a tool for me — it's a field of possibilities I constantly want to explore.

Can you walk us through your creative process from idea to finished work? Do you prefer planning your pieces carefully, or do you enjoy improvising as you go?

I never plan in a rational way. I don't start with a sketch or a concept. The starting point is always emotional: how I feel, what my heart says, what's pressing under the surface — pain, trauma, silence, or a sentence I can't forget. Sometimes it begins with a phrase, a thought, a situation I've lived or heard. And from that emotional fragment, I follow the line, not to illustrate, but to let something true emerge. I never really reached what I thought I was aiming for. And that's not a failure — it's part of the process. I trust the gesture, the feeling, the unknown. More and more, I want to break habits. To move beyond what's expected. I want to explore new subjects, new ways of making, thinking, and feeling. I'm not interested in repetition — I want risk. And honesty.

How would you describe the connection between your inner world and your artwork?

It's a strong connection — maybe the strongest I have. One doesn't go without the other. My art is the reflection, the image, the visual form of my inner world. My drawings speak better than I do.They express who I am more truthfully than words ever could. They tell my story without explaining it — and that's what I need. There is a force between the two, a bond that saved me. And now that it's here again, it's not something I'm willing to lose.

Can you describe what creating art means to you personally?

It's a lifeline. A way to exist, to breathe, to speak when everything else fails. But it's also more than that. For me, making art means expressing myself — fully, vulnerably, without filters. It means taking a stand, even if it's a quiet one. It means doing something that holds beauty and emotion, something that helps, that opens space, that shares. I want my work to touch, to connect, to offer something real. Art is not a mirror for me — it's a gesture. A way to share something about myself that might resonate with someone else.

How does it feel to return to art after the time you spent away from it?

Coming back to art felt like a release. Like finding something I had lost without realising how much I needed it. It was a deep relief — a forgotten pleasure that slowly became a renewed joy. I was afraid I had lost the connection forever. That may be, I wouldn't know how to draw again, or feel anything through it. But it was still there. Waiting. Changed, yes — but more honest, more vital. Returning to art wasn't about reclaiming a skill. It was about reclaiming a part of myself. And I don't want to lose it again.

Echoes Of Her, Graphite on Paper, 21x29.7 cm, 2024 © Madlyn (Alauda Georges)

Mind breaking, Mixed Media, 21x29.7cm, 2025 © Madlyn (Alauda Georges)

You are still very young. How do you see your work evolve in the future? And what steps do you plan to take to achieve your goals?

I want to keep creating. I want to stay close to art — maybe even make it my life's work. But not in a conventional way. If it becomes my profession one day, I want it to be a job that's fully aligned with my heart, my rhythm, and my inner world. I don't dream of success for success. I dream of not having to abandon what keeps me alive. That's why I hope to find ways to make it sustainable — emotionally, mentally, and maybe financially too. I plan to apply to an art school soon. I've just started an Etsy shop to share my work. I want to grow my social media, show my art, participate in exhibitions, give interviews, maybe even appear in a magazine one day. I dream of all that. But most of all, I want to keep creating. To feel well with myself. To stay connected to that part of me that draws without fear. I want to heal. That's the real goal.

Lastly, what are you working on now? Do you have a new project or series you are currently developing?

Right now, I'm trying to build my future step by step, slowly, gently. I'm working on the outline of a fashion collection that follows the emotional evolution of a girl, from silhouette 1 (collapsed) to silhouette 8 (at peace). It's a story of healing through clothing — where fabric carries memory, emotion, and identity. I've just participated in my first group exhibition, and I'm looking for art competitions and paid opportunities where I could share my work. I'd love to collaborate with a fashion brand someday, or even create my own solo exhibition. But all of that still feels far away — and I try not to put too much pressure on myself. I live in the present moment, or at least I try to. With my psychiatric condition, it's not always easy. But art helps me. And so does sewing, which is another passion of mine. I love making clothes by hand. It's meditative, grounding — a way to stitch myself back together.

Artist’s Talk

Al-Tiba9 Interviews is a promotional platform for artists to articulate their vision and engage them with our diverse readership through a published art dialogue. The artists are interviewed by Mohamed Benhadj, the founder & curator of Al-Tiba9, to highlight their artistic careers and introduce them to the international contemporary art scene across our vast network of museums, galleries, art professionals, art dealers, collectors, and art lovers across the globe.

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