It began in the spring of 2020. The year of Van Eyck. Don’t ask me why, but something about it stirred something deep inside me. It was a Saturday. At the time, I loved my little rituals. A fresh cup of coffee. The silence of the morning. The weekend magazine spread open in front of me. As I read the pages about the Jan van Eyck exhibition ( Optical Illusion – MSK Ghent ), I suddenly felt it: warm and cold at the same time. My body knew before I did. Me, someone who actually knows very little about art — felt an irresistible pull to that magnificent exhibition in Ghent. With my husband and son by my side, I wandered through it — and just kept wandering, long after they were already waiting for me in the cafeteria. I remember walking back to the painting of Jan van Eyck’s wife. I lingered there, as if expecting her to tell me why I was so deeply triggered. Jan Van Eyck’s Wife She didn’t say a word. But I felt that one day I would unravel her secret. I co...