Blessed with an 11mm overbite and a last name containing the word ‘hare’, you could say that in life, I was off to a rough start. But once I got acquainted with my inner Amélie Poulain and Pippi Longstocking, I learned how to play with my quirks. Dreamy, headstrong, curious, imaginative, with a hands-on mentality. And the chances of me ever truly becoming an adult? Slim.

With a set of sensitive senses, I experience the world intensely. Everything leaves an impression. As a person, that can sometimes be overwhelming, but as an artist, it’s a great gift.
Nothing goes unnoticed. I see things, other people might not. Especially during my neighborhood walks. What story clints to that sagging chair or the half public transport card? Who do they belong to? What happened here?

I love people’s stories. And really, that’s been the common thread throughout my career so far: curiosity about the how and why of human behavior. A self-taught field anthropologist! I’ve explored the worlds of fashion, politics, journalism, and gained a lot of experience as primary school teacher. I’ve practiced—both as a person and as an artist. And strangely enough, even though I’m almost 38, it feels like life’s only just beginning now that I’ve fully embraced the artist within me and given her the space she needs.

Inspiration

Born in the late ‘80s, shaped by the ‘90s and early 2000s, it’s no surprise that I often draw inspiration from pop culture, both past and present. Especially the psychology behind it, its entanglement with capitalism, and the psychological effects of that entanglement. I’m fascinated by the instant recognition of the McDonald’s M, the Coca-Cola logo, a Snickers wrapper. Sometimes, even just familiar color combinations are enough to flood the brain with dopamine. Think of blue and yellow. It’s universal—something we’re all part of, whether we like it or not.

my home is filled with drawings by former pupils, no older than four or five. A giant human figure with seven fingers on each hand, standing next to a house that barely reaches their knees. Anything is possible. It radiates a sense of freedom, but also reassurance—the child doesn’t yet know how things are ‘supposed’ to be. And I love questioning that very idea. Why not write your name backward and in mirror image? There she is again—Pippi.

And when I put on my ‘grown-up’ hat, I admire artists like Matthew Barney, David Altmejd, Magritte, Walter Van Beirendonck and Christian Rex van Minnen.

Process

My work doesn’t fit within a single discipline. I prefer to start with the message (the content) I want to convey and then find a form that suits it: recycled plastic, 3D-printed porcelain, second-hand curtains. And I love it when that form creates friction, pressing on the sore spot that the content addresses—like using childlike handwriting to depict the grim future of our environment.

But I can also be completely captivated by a material or color. During my fashion design studies at ArtEZ, I made everything in fluorescent pink during my second year. Individual teacher evaluations were positive, but at the final group assessment, when they realized everything was neon pink, there was some hesitation. Looking back, it was clear—I was more of an artist than a fashion designer. Not a blue period, but a fluorescent pink one!

Whenever possible, I work sustainably. That can be limiting (in production options or budget), but those limitations actually fuel my creativity. They give me focus and prevent my ideas from drifting too far.

That’s why I also enjoy working on commission—as long as the framework isn’t too tight. Creativity needs room to breathe!