However you got here, I am glad you did

I often wonder how people arrive at certain places—physically, digitally, or otherwise. Perhaps you are here because you are an artist, or maybe a friend, a neighbor, or a distant relative who stumbled upon this. Maybe you read my grant application and are quietly assessing whether I deserve a slice of that ever-elusive funding pie.
However you got here, I’m glad you did.

My name is Inka. I was born in Helsinki in 1992, and by the age of ten, I found my way into the world of circus. It happened the way many childhood obsessions do—by accident, or perhaps, by fate. My mother, my best friend Milla, and I attended a performance of Winter Circus Hurjaruuth. We were mesmerized. After the show, Milla and I decided, with the certainty that only ten-year-olds possess, that circus was our calling. Our mothers, supportive, found a youth circus program, and we stayed.
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Now, I am a professional circus artist, a mother, a woman living in Berlin. Life has a way of leading you down unexpected roads. Eight years ago, I met my partner, and soon after, I packed up and moved to Germany. Life abroad comes with its own set of complications—the language barriers, the bureaucratic labyrinths, the small but significant cultural misunderstandings. But here we are, carving out a life, building a home, raising our child.

Becoming a mother soon two years ago reshaped my everyday life in ways I never could have anticipated. I often find myself thinking about how I want to create art, what kind of art I want to make. Motherhood is, of course, one of the topics I find compelling, but my passions stretch in so many directions. Lately, I’ve been particularly drawn to the idea of revisiting abandoned creative concepts—giving them a second life, reshaping them into something unexpected. I’m currently working on a project that explores this very theme, questioning what happens when we refuse to discard the ideas we once thought were failures.

I have always been curious—drawn to movement, to sound, to the endless possibilities of travel. When I was younger, I traveled constantly: I was eager to see new places, meet new people, and immerse myself in different cultures. That same sense of exploration and spontaneity shapes my work in circus—finding balance in the unknown, embracing each performance as an adventure of its own.

I sometimes wonder if my constant pursuit of new things is more than just curiosity. More than once, I’ve suspected I might have adhd. If so, it would explain a lot—the way my mind jumps between ideas, the way time seems to slip through my fingers like sand. Maybe one day, I’ll find out. Maybe understanding it would give me better tools to navigate this life. Though, to be honest, I think I’ve done just fine

For now, I do what I have always done—move forward, chase ideas, and find ways to turn the abstract into something real. I love that I do not know exactly where the next step will lead, but I trust that the journey itself is worth it.

What keeps you moving forward?