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TALENT PLATFORM

Discover emerging creative talents who are active in the fields of design, architecture and digital culture, supported by Creative Industries Fund NL. The Talent Platform is showcasing what artistic and professional growth entails and serves as a fount of information for other creatives and for commissioners.

GRANT PROGRAMME FOR TALENT DEVELOPMENT

Talent development is one of Creative Industries Fund NL's spearheads. The Fund awards 12-month grants to up-and-coming creative talents every year, providing the opportunity to enrich artistic and professional aspects of their practice to optimum effect. Participants must have graduated within the last four years and must be active in one of the diverse disciplines of the creative industries, from fashion design to graphic design, from architecture to digital culture. The Fund's online Talent Platform portrays all the individual practices of designers who have received a grant since 2013.

2024

Meet a new generation of design talent through 51 video portraits. These short films and interviews provide an intimate glimpse into the creative process of emerging talents supported by the Talent Development Grant Scheme in 2023/2024. Get inspired by a diverse range of projects, ranging from a reinterpretation of negative stereotypes about North African women using traditional henna, to research on spatial justice in Amsterdam's Red Light District, and from queer stories told through ceramic sculptures and film, to interactive art projects addressing themes such as inclusion and connectedness.

Video: Jonathan Sipkema & Chris Groos | Graphics: Studio Stark | Sound design & mix: Denis Wouters & Jasper Boogaard

Publication Talent Platform 2024

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2023

In 50 1-minute film portraits, you get to know talented designers, makers, artists and architects, who received a talent development grant in 2022/2023, in a personal and intimate way. Concept: Koehorst in 't Veld and Roel van Tour (design Toon Koehorst en Jannetje in 't Veld, video Roel van Tour, interview Wilbert Eerland). During the Dutch Design Week 2023, the film portraits were shown together with performances and exhibitions in an installation designed by Koehorst in 't Veld in the Portiersloge, Eindhoven.

Publication Talent Platform 2022

TALENT PLATFORM 2023
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2022

In 51 1-minute film portraits, you get to know talented designers, makers, artists and architects, who received a talent development grant in 2021/2022, in a personal and intimate way. Concept: Koehorst in 't Veld and Roel van Tour (design Toon Koehorst en Jannetje in 't Veld, video Roel van Tour, interview Wilbert Eerland). During the Dutch Design Week 2022, the film portraits were shown in an installation designed by Koehorst in 't Veld in MU Hybrid Art House, Eindhoven.

Publication Talent Platform 2022

TALENT PLATFORM 2022
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2021

In 35 1-minute film portraits, you get to know talented designers, makers, artists and architects, who received a talent development grant in 2020/2021, in a personal and intimate way. Concept: Koehorst in 't Veld and Roel van Tour (design Koehorst in 't Veld with Sjors Rigters, video Roel van Tour, interview Maarten Westerveen, soundtrack Volodymyr Antoniv). During the Dutch Design Week 2021, the film portraits were shown in an installation designed by Koehorst in 't Veld in the Klokgebouw, Eindhoven.

Publication Talent Platform 2021

TALENT PLATFORM 2021
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ESSAYS

Over the past seven years, the Creative Industries Fund NL has supported over 250 young designers with the Talent Development grant. In three long reads by Jeroen Junte, we look for the shared mentality of this design generation.

2020

Talent Tours provides via short video portraits insight into the thinking and practice of 39 emerging design talents, each of whom is concerned with topical social themes. What are their motives, their doubts and ambitions, and what values do they put first in their work? From 18 to 25 October 2020, the Creative Industries Fund NL presented the video portraits and daily livestreams with new talent during the Dutch Design Week.

Publication Talent Platform 2020

TALENT PLATFORM 2020
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2019

Twenty-five minute-long film portraits introduce you in a personal and intimate way to the talented designers, makers, artists and architects who received a year-long stipendum over 2019/2020. The concept and production are the work of Studio Moniker. The film portraits are part of a programme together with performances by the talents in the MU artspace during Dutch Design Week 2019.

TALENT PLATFORM 2019
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2018

Twenty-four minute-long film portraits introduce you in a personal and intimate way to the talented designers, makers, artists and architects who received a year-long stipend over 2017/2018. The concept and production are the work of Studio Moniker. The film portraits are part of an installation in the Veem Building during Dutch Design Week 2018.

TALENT PLATFORM 2018
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ESSAY: Longread Talent #3

Me and the other
In the past seven years, the Creative Industries Fund NL has supported over 250 young designers with the Talent Development grant. In three longreads, we look for the shared mentality of this design generation, which has been shaped by the great challenges of our time. They examine how they deal with themes such as technology, climate, privacy, inclusiveness and health. In this third and final longread, the focus is no longer on personal success and individual expression but on ‘the other’....

2017

The fourth edition of In No Particular Order during the Dutch Design Week 2017 presented a collective statement about the pluriformity of contemporary design practice. Nine installations addressed the themes of Position, Inspiration, Working Environment, Representation, Money, Happiness, Language, Discourse and Market. The presentation in the Van Abbe Museum was curated by Jules van den Langenberg, who was himself a participant in the Programme for Talent Development in 2017.

TALENT PLATFORM 2017
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2016

In the third edition of In No Particular Order in 2016, curator Agata Jaworska offered insight into what it means to run a design practice. How do designers create the circumstances in which they work? What can we learn from their methodologies and routines? The designers reflected on these questions in audio recordings and with sketches. Together they give a personal impression of the development of their artistic practices.

In No Particular Order 2016

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2015

The second edition of the In No Particular Order presentation was staged in the Veem Building during Dutch Design Week 2015. Curator Agata Jaworska focused on the processes, points of departure and visions behind the materialization of work, using a database of images from the personal archives of the designers. What is it that drives the modern-day designer? What are their sources of inspiration, motivations and ambitions?

In No Particular Order 2015

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2014

What makes someone a talent? How is talent shaped? These were the pivotal questions for the first In No Particular Order exhibition in the Schellens Factory during Dutch Design Week 2014. Besides presenting the work of individual talents, curator Agata Jaworska revealed trends and shared similarities as well.

In No Particular Order 2014

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essays
essays

Dancing with trouble

THE 2022 BATCH WAS PRESENTED DURING DUTCH DESIGN WEEK THROUGH THE PROGRAMME DANCING WITH TROUBLE, A THEME THAT IS TAILOR-MADE FOR THIS GROUP OF UP-AND-COMING DESIGNERS AND MAKERS.

In her 2016 book Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene philosopher and theorist Donna Haraway suggests that, in building the future, mankind should not get caught up in fixing systems that are known to be obsolete. Instead, she suggests to wildly imagine beyond the known. By being present and by bonding with a variety of others, in unpredictable or surprising combinations and collaborations. For her, staying with the trouble means that we as humans do not just need solutions, but most of all need each other.

What is being felt in this year’s group of up-annd-coming creatives is the search for the collective and the need to go beyond the boundaries of design disciplines. But also the messiness that trouble represents and the freedom it gives to experiment. They look at the world beyond solutionism. Beyond future scenarios, they courageously embrace the possibility of having no end point, no solution or no future at all. Yet, this does not cause paralysis or defeat. The talents dare to dance with life and trouble. Firmly grounded in the here and now, they experience, experiment, question and navigate the unknown. The approaches differ but are connected by movement. Moving forward, inward, backward or through, constantly making new connections, changing angles, perspectives and positions, without a pre-set outcome. The group distinguishes itself by this movement that could be interpreted as a continuous dance – agile, soft, fluid and daring – with the profound troubles we face today.

The emerging talents share a holistic perspective and prefer to design an imagined elsewhere or part of the process rather than an object for the sake of it. We see the designers turning to ancient or ancestral knowledge, to imagine how reconnecting with land, soil and nature could offer alternative ways of existing and belonging. Some artists seek to create connections with a more varied group of beings, including non-human and digital entities, to understand the world and mankind’s position in it. Several explore the human skill-set, and how feelings as opposed to thoughts can be a valuable and valid source of knowledge while navigating the future. Others imagine what our future surroundings – physical, digital and hybrid – could look like, and what behavior we may need to master to exist in these spaces.

While all dance to the beat of their own drum, the talents are connected by the idea that we are not alone in dealing with the challenges of our time. On the contrary: they show a deep-rooted conviction that everything is connected and that we may be hopeful, as long as we have each other. But most of all, they inspire us to see the silver lining. Instead of living a life of worry about the past or future, we can choose to be here, now. Trouble is a given, but life is a dance floor.


INTERVIEW DANCING WITH TROUBLE

DANCING WITH TROUBLE HAS BEEN COMPILED BY EVA VAN BREUGEL (AGOG AND URBAN ENVIRONMENT PROGRAMME MAKER), ESTHER MUÑOZ GROOTVELD (PROGRAMME MAKER AND STRATEGIC CONSULTANT AT THE INTERSECTION OF FASHION, DESIGN, ART AND SOCIETY), AND MANIQUE HENDRICKS (CURATOR, WRITER AND RESEARCHER IN THE FIELD OF CONTEMPORARY ART, VISUAL AND DIGITAL CULTURE). MARIEKE LADRU AND SHARVIN RAMJAN, BOTH ASSOCIATED WITH THE TALENT DEVELOPMENT GRANT SCHEME OF THE FUND, SPOKE WITH THE THREE PROGRAMME MAKERS.

HOW DO YOU SEE THE IMPORTANCE OF TALENT DEVELOPMENT?

EB ‘I think talent development is essential. We are facing huge transitions in the field of housing, energy, water, greening and sustainability; in short, a changing society and culture. We need a new vanguard to effectively take on this challenge. The new generation can bring a fresh perspective and different approaches.’

MH ‘The challenges are relevant professionally, but are also issues we need to relate to as human beings. And that’s quite demanding, also for these young makers. While the first years following graduation are already quite challenging. That’s why the talent development grant is so important. Besides offering time and funding, it gives the recipients the opportunity to develop focus, to present yourself to the world, and to engage in collaborations and forge connections.’

EMG ‘One of the important values of the grant is that it enables talented makers to meet each other. That way they can move ahead together, which builds confidence. Talent is often the vanguard since they still have a certain open-mindedness. They look toward the future with hope, and move toward the future with boldness and freedom. I think that’s wonderful to see.’

WHAT TYPIFIES THESE MAKERS?

MH ‘The hope that Esther refers to is certainly striking. These makers do not envisage a dystopian future. They are aware of living and working in a complicated time, but they want to ride the waves. Being part of a collective is an important part of it. That’s why the programme was titled Dancing with Trouble. Each individual chooses their own rhythm, but they are in this together.’

EB ‘Many makers focus on personal themes such as identity, queer community and diaspora, but also engage with the current crises in the world concerning the climate, the changing landscape, available agrarian land and migration. Who has the right to claim a certain space? That’s a relevant question in a physical sense, but also philosophically and culturally. Design and research interrogate the status quo by finding new ways to look at what’s here now.’

MH ‘The lived experience often takes centre stage. How can you communicate this? This is attempted for instance by means of technology, enabling the user – or the audience – to empathise with others, to share experiences and to build communities. It involves creating and appreciating other forms of knowledge transfer.’

EMG ‘What seems to characterise this group of upcoming makers is a holistic approach and a desire to connect with the environment and the future. Designers are working on shaping and developing relationships and connections. The physical object often seems to be of secondary importance; what really matters is stimulating a dialogue or change process.’

EB ‘The emphasis is often on the process and the experiment, with less concern for an end product or goal. I also notice that these talents show a very adaptive approach to the current time of transition.’

DOES THIS IMPLY ANY PARTICULAR CHALLENGES?

EMG ‘The absence of a tangible end result can make it more difficult to present a story. Of course a picture is worth a thousand words; but projects that address complex issues are often hard to capture in language. For some designs, there simply isn’t any vocabulary yet.’

EB ‘Perhaps it’s also easier to work on a concept, and in this phase of your professional practice it might be difficult to take a certain position and then to materialise this in a product or end point. But then this might also be a particular quality of the new generation!’

HOW MIGHT THE EMERGENCE OF HYBRID PRACTICES AFFECT THE FUTURE OF THE DESIGN FIELD IN RELATION TO THE VISUAL ARTS?

EMG ‘The connection with visual arts is quite particular for the Dutch design sector. Designers are often trained at art educational institutes that are all about artistic expression. So it’s no surprise that the distinction between design and visual art isn’t always clear-cut. What I find more interesting is how makers are increasingly investigating other disciplines such as biology or geology. This leads to collaboration projects in which the designer acts as the linchpin.’

EB ‘Designers and artists are increasingly adopting interdisciplinary approaches, and are developing more rapidly than the underlying systems. This causes some complications in the work field. For example, grant schemes often presuppose that designers can be categorised in terms of discipline. And having a complex profile can also make it difficult to obtain commissions.’

EMG ‘Indeed, a hybrid practice can be difficult to pigeonhole. Certainly in the world of institutions, it can be hard for these practices to fit in. The makers face questions such as: how do I claim my position in the field? How do I demonstrate the relevance of my work? And how can I obtain funding for my work? This can be difficult for design research, which doesn’t have a clearly projected end result. Not many clients are willing to accommodate experimentation. These designers need to think carefully about the partners in industry

and other disciplines that they want to involve in their work.’

CAN YOU TELL US A BIT ABOUT THE FIVE THEMES THAT MAKE UP DANCING WITH TROUBLE?

EMG ‘We distinguished five themes that inform and connect the different presentations and performances during the Dutch Design Week 2022. The theme of Sensing Forward pertains to the increasing acknowledgement of emotions and experiences as a valuable and valid source of knowledge. A good example is the work by product designer Boey Wang, who explores how you can design on the basis of touch and feeling. Beyond Bodies is about no longer seeing the human being as central but learning to listen to nature and other entities. Thus, Dasha Tsapenko offers a glimpse of the dressed body in the future by examining how we would dress if our items of clothing were living beings. Relating to Land(scapes) focuses on future landscapes and the new skills and behaviour we need to develop to live and navigate communally. For example, Lieke Jildou de Jong examined what would be the best diet with a view to the soil. Longing to Belong addresses the sense of rootlessness that many people have in this hyper-individualist era. What does it mean to “feel at home”, and how can designers contribute to a sense of togetherness? Finally, Power to the Personal focuses on practices in which personal stories play an important role.’

MH ‘These themes reflect the mood and the movement apparent among this group of designers and makers. It is special to see so many new ideas juxtaposed. And the fact that this group also consists of makers that were not previously represented in the sector is cause for optimism.’

Longread Talent #1
Me and my practice
How design talents (have to) reinvent themselves

Over the past seven years, the Creative Industries Fund NL has supported over 250 young designers with the Talent Development grant. In three longreads, we look for the shared mentality of this design generation, which has been shaped by the great challenges of our time. In doing so, they examine how they deal with themes such as technology, climate, privacy, inclusiveness and health. In this first longread: the in-depth reflection on the field and place of their own practice in it. The entrenched principles of fashion, design and architecture are questioned and enriched with new tools, techniques, materials and platforms.

The Dirty Design Manifesto by Marjanne van Helvert is a fiery argument against the fact that the production of many design objects causes so much pollution. It also takes a stand against tempting design products, without individuality or intrinsic value, fuelling consumption. The manifesto focuses not only on manufacturers and consumers but also on designers who pay scant attention to sustainability, inequality and other pressing social issues. In short, it is a j’accuse against design’s darker aspects.

Marjanne van Helvert, The Responsible Object: A History of Design Ideology for the Future
Marjanne van Helvert, The Responsible Object: A History of Design Ideology for the Future

As well as being a critic, Van Helvert is also a textile designer and developed Dirty Clothes, a unisex collection of used clothing. In 2016, to further advance her critical vision, she received a talent development grant from the Creative Industries Fund NL. They award this €25,000 subsidy annually to about 30 young designers. Van Helvert used the support to write The Responsible Object: A History of Design Ideology for the Future, in which she thoroughly examines various design philosophies, testing them for durability and applicability now and in the near future. Unsurprisingly, the book was convincing in design alone, executed in a clean grid and a powerful black, white and orange palette. In addition, Van Helvert’s writing demonstrates she is an astute thinker and conscientious researcher.

Sabine Marcelis, a library of materials
Sabine Marcelis, a library of materials

HEALING WAR WOUNDS

Van Helvert’s approach is indicative of a design generation who no longer cast their critical eye solely on their individual practice but on the entire sector. This trend is clearly evident when we look at the various cohorts of Talent Development Scheme grant recipients over the years. Together, these design cohorts provide a current snapshot of the creative industry.

Since the Talent Development Scheme’s launch in 2014, some 250 young designers have drawn on this opportunity to professionalise. In the first few years, the participants mainly focused on an in-depth reflection of their own practice – with great success, in fact. For example, product designer Sabine Marcelis (2016 cohort) used her development year to collaborate with manufacturing professionals, resulting in a library of new, pure materials for various projects. It brought her world fame. Fashion designer Barbara Langedijk and jewellery designer Noon Passama (2015 cohort) experimented on Silver Fur, a joint project with a high-tech, fur-like textile. It resulted in an innovative collection that organically merged clothing and jewellery. Or architect Arna Mačkić (2014 cohort), who examined architecture’s role in healing war wounds in her native Bosnia. In 2019, Mačkić won the Young Maaskant Prize, the highly prestigious award for young architects. All these talented practitioners broadened their particular fascinations and strengthened their design skills to develop a unique profile. This remains the basis of the Talent Development Scheme – the name says it all.

Gradually, alongside the recipients expanding their professional boundaries, they increasingly began to explore the precise boundaries of their professional field. The youngest cohort also demonstrates that research is not just a means to arrive at a design. Research has become design, and this is as true in fashion as it is in product design, graphic design, architecture, and gaming, interactive and other digital design. Why should an architect always design a building, an urban district or landscape? This is the starting point of Carlijn Kingma’s utopian landscapes (2018 cohort). Her architecture only exists on paper and is made of nothing but jet-black ink. The meticulously detailed pen drawings are often more than a metre high and wide and consist of buildings that are part fantasy and partly historical. These maps depict abstract and complex social concepts architecture has grappled with for centuries – utopia, capitalism and even fear and hope. Kingma infuses her field with philosophical reflections and historical awareness. By eschewing the term architect and instead calling herself a ‘cartographer of worlds of thought’, she positions herself beyond architecture. Like Marjanne van Helvert, she is simultaneously a participant and observer of her profession.

Carlijn Kingma, A Histoty of the Utopian Tradition
Carlijn Kingma, A Histoty of the Utopian Tradition

TECH-FOOD AS A CONVERSATION PIECE

The textile designer who makes a book and the architect who does not want to build exemplifies a generation that is researching and redefining its profession. What are the options for a fashion designer who wants to break away from the industry’s dominance? What does it mean to be a product designer in a world collapsing under the weight of overconsumption? How do you deal with privacy issues or addictive clickbait when designing an app, website or game? Although this fundamental self-examination is based on personal dilemmas, sometimes even frustrations, it nourishes the whole professional community.

This research can be both hyper-realistic and hypothetical. Food designer Chloé Rutzerveld (2016 cohort) combines design, science, technology, gastronomy and culture to realise projects about the food of the future. Edible Growth is a design for ready-to-eat dishes using a 3D printer. They are made up of layers containing seeds and spores in an edible substrate. Once printed, they become an entirely edible mini garden within a few days using natural yeast and ripening processes. Rather than an emphatically concrete product, Rutzerveld has developed a paper concept to bring discussions on social and technological issues surrounding food to a broad audience. The resulting mediagenic images of fake dishes and intriguing project texts have resulted in Rutzerveld figuring on the international circuit for lectures and exhibitions. Her prototype has become the product.

This probing attitude has become the unifying factor among the young designers who received a talent development grant. The goal can be a specific result, such as creating a materials library or a fashion collection independent of seasons and gender. The entire design field is also being researched, including a manifesto about dirty design. Another outcome is exploring the designer’s role as a producer, as Jesse Howard (2015 cohort) does with his everyday devices that allow the user to play an active role in both the design and production process. Utilising an open-source knowledge platform, Howard explores innovative ways to use digital fabrication tools, such as 3D printers, computerised laser cutters, and milling machines. He designs simple household appliances, such as a kettle or vacuum cleaner, that consumers can fabricate using bolts, copper pipes and other standard materials from the hardware store. Specific parts, such as the protective cover, can be made with a 3D printer. They share the required techniques on the knowledge platform. If the device is defective, the producing consumer – or prosumer – can also repair it. These DIY products are made from local materials and offer a sustainable and transparent alternative to mass production.

Juliette Lizotte
Juliette Lizotte

PERFORMER, DJ, CHOREOGRAPHER – AND DESIGNER

During the past seven years of the Talent Development Scheme, design’s boundaries have been interrogated and expanded through new idioms, such as social design, food design, conceptual design, and speculative design. Architects act as quartermasters and cartographers. Fashion disrupts with anthropological installations. Today it is as much an inquisitive mentality as a skillset that distinguishes design talent. Sometimes the individual’s approach is such that graphic design, architecture or fashion no longer appropriately describe their practice.

Juliette Lizotte (2020 cohort) wants to employ videos and LARP (live action role-playing, a role-playing game in which players assume a fantasy role) to stimulate the discussion about climate change. Under the name Jujulove, she DJs, collaborates with dancers and theatre makers, and, with a fashion designer, makes recycled plastic costumes for the dancers in her videos. In her self-appointed role as a witch, she promotes ecofeminism, in which women represent a creative and healing force on nature. Through a multisensory experience of image, sound and performance, she mainly aims her work at young people and target groups not traditionally considered by the cultural sector. However, her fantasy world actually runs parallel to the traditional design world. Jujulove is not a designer but creates a groundbreaking holistic design using diverse disciplines such as film and storytelling.

Designers are no longer central to their own design practice. There is an explicit pursuit of interdisciplinary collaboration and interaction. Though French-Caribbean programmer/designer Alvin Arthur (2020 cohort) trained as a designer, he has developed into a versatile performer, teacher, researcher and connector. His toolkit is his body, which he uses to visualise how the writing of computer programs works. He calls his mixture of choreography, performance and design body.coding. Through a specially developed lesson programme, full of group dance and movement, he teaches primary school children about the extent to which their living environment is digitally programmed, from their school buildings and places where they live to the design and production of their smartphones. Above all, he shows that programming and design are not necessarily sedentary activities that you do behind a desk. Designing is thinking, moving, combining and collaborating.

The latter is especially true. Sometimes two different disciplines work together to great effect, such as jewellery designer Noon Passama and fashion designer Baraba Langendijk. Increasingly, however, designers are combining their knowledge and skills in close-knit collectives. Knetterijs (2019 cohort) is a group of eight graphic designers who operate as one studio. Each member has their expertise and role, from analogue printing techniques, such as risoprint and screen printing, to digital illustration techniques or running the Knetterijs webshop. They used their development year for the joint production of three ‘magazines’ in which new techniques such as graphic audio tracks and an interactive e-zine were explored. They replace individual ego with ‘we go’.

Saïd Kinos, HIDEOUT, Uruma hotel in Okinawa, Japan. Photo Masafumi Kashi
Saïd Kinos, HIDEOUT, Uruma hotel in Okinawa, Japan. Photo Masafumi Kashi

STORYTELLING AND STREET ART

This transformation of the design disciplines is now at the heart of the Talent Development Scheme. Since 2019, scout nights have offered creative talent that has not trained on the usual courses – such as those at the Design Academy Eindhoven or TU Delft – an opportunity to pitch their work to a selection committee. Professionals in art direction, storytelling or city making are given the opportunity to consolidate their practice. Street artist Saïd Kinos (2020 cohort) already had success with his colourful, graphic murals featuring design techniques like collage and typography. Thanks to a talent development grant, he can now transcend the street art category and expand his practice into being an artist whose canvas extends beyond that of the city. He has mastered digital techniques, such as augmented reality, animation and projection mapping (projecting moving images onto buildings).

A PRACTICE OF EVOLUTION

The advancement of an individual or collective practice thus coincides with the development of the entire discipline. The fixed principles of traditional design disciplines, such as fashion, design and architecture, are explored and enriched through new tools, techniques, materials and platforms. By now, everything is mixed up: street, museum and website; cartography and aerosol; witchcraft and 3D printers. These talented designers respond to social developments and leave their mark on them, thereby shaping tomorrow's society, which is the ultimate proof of the necessity of talent development.

Text: Jeroen Junte

Longread Talent #2
Me and the world
Post-crisis design generation seeks (and finds) its place in vulnerable future

Over the past seven years, the Stimulation Creative Industries Fund NL has supported over 250 young designers with the Talent Development grant. In three longreads, we look for the shared mentality of this design generation, which has been shaped by the great challenges of our time. In doing so, they examine how they deal with themes such as technology, climate, privacy, inclusiveness and health. In this second longread: design talent is nourished by a sense of urgency. ‘If we do not turn the tide, who will?’

15 September 2008. 12 December 2015. 17 March 2018. These may seem like random dates, but these moments have left their mark on the contemporary design field. On 15 September 2008, the Lehman Brothers investment bank in New York went bankrupt. The ensuing severe financial crisis exposed the disarray of the global economic system. On 12 December 2015, 55 countries (now 197) concluded a far-reaching Climate Agreement recognising climate change as an indisputable fact. The industrial depletion of existing raw materials and energy supplies is now ‘officially’ unsustainable. And on 17 March 2018, The New York Times reported on large-scale political manipulation by the data company Cambridge Analytica. Fake news and privacy violations shattered the twentieth century’s democratic ideal.

These events – and more, for that matter – highlight the world’s continuing crisis conditions. The more than 250 designers the Talent Development Scheme of the Creative Industries Fund NL has supported since 2014 were trained during, and thus shaped by, these crises. They belong to the last design generation with a clear memory of 9/11 – a generation motivated by a sense of urgency. They understand that if we don’t turn the tide, then who will? They are also devoid of arrogance and well aware of the limitations of their expertise and the disciplines in which they work. Whether product design, fashion, digital design or architecture, they do not harbour the illusion that they have that one all-encompassing solution.

Irene Stracuzzi, The legal status of ice
Irene Stracuzzi, The legal status of ice

MAPPING THE MONEY FLOWS

However, communication is a potent weapon, as graphic designer Femke Herregraven (2015 cohort) understands. She delved into and visualised the financial constructions behind the neoliberal world economy. Herregraven focused on offshore structures and the disconnect between capital and physical locations. Through a serious game, she playfully introduced you to international tax structures in faraway places. Her Taxodus draws from an extensive database that processes various international tax treaties and data from companies and countries. Becoming rich has never been so fun and easy. She also investigated the colonial history of Mauritius and this Indian Ocean island’s new role as a tax haven. Herregraven’s meticulous research and surprising designs reveal hidden value systems and clarify their material and geographical consequences. To reform unbridled capitalism, one must first know its pitfalls.

Knowledge is also power. Thus these designers are trying to determine their place in an increasingly vulnerable world. Vulnerable in a very literal sense because climate change is perceived as the most dangerous threat. As graphic designer Irene Stracuzzi (2019 cohort) demonstrates, geopolitical forces also determine the playing field here. Her installation The Legal Status of Ice details how the five Arctic countries – Russia, Canada, Denmark, Norway and the US – are laying claim to the North Pole. After all, immense oil and gas fields may lie beneath the melting icecaps. But shouldn’t the disappearing ice, which has shrunk by half since the late 1970s, be the issue? Stracuzzi has mapped this contemporary imperialism in a giant 3D model of the North Pole, onto which she maps the overlapping claims and other data. The legal status of ice concerns not only the North Pole but also the uranium mines in Angola and the new space race in search of lunar minerals. It is about a system of exploitation and colonialism. The influential curator Paola Antonelli selected Stracuzzi’s work for the Broken Nature exhibition at the 2019 Triennale di Milano. No one can now claim we didn’t know.

Marco Federico Cagnoni
Marco Federico Cagnoni

LIVING LAMPS

The realisation that the complexity of the climate crisis is too great to confront alone is profound. Designers eagerly collaborate with other disciplines. For example, Marco Federico Cagnoni (2020 cohort) is researching latex-producing edible plants with Utrecht University. Corn and potatoes, among other plant varieties, are still grown as raw materials for bioplastics, but the production process discards the nutrients. Cagnoni is studying food crops whose residual material is also processed into fully-fledged bioplastics.

Designers seek a symbiosis with nature from an awareness that we can no longer exploit Earth with impunity. The roadmap is diverse, and nature is protected, imitated, repaired or improved. Let us not forget, we are in the Anthropocene: the era in which human activity influences all life on Earth. But if humankind can destroy nature, then humanity can also recreate it. Biodesigner Teresa van Dongen (2016 cohort) collaborated with microbiologists from TU Delft and Ghent University to develop the Ambio lamp based on luminescent bacteria. The lamp features a long, liquid-filled tube in which marine bacteria live. When the tube moves, it activates the bacteria to give off light. The better the bacteria are cared for, the more and longer they give light. As well as being a sustainable alternative, her Ambio lamp also functions as a powerful means of communication. So working together with nature is possible; we have simply forgotten how to do it.

Teresa van Dongen, Ambio
Teresa van Dongen, Ambio

This situation explains why designers are looking for ways to restore our relationship with nature. Architect Anna Fink (2020 cohort) proposed a country house consisting of rooms scattered in woods, meadows and a village. Residents must maintain their Landscape as House by felling, planting, mowing, building and repairing. The essence of this fragmented ‘house’ is a daily rhythm of movement from room to room and an awareness of the environment, time and space. Routines and rituals are rooted in the weather’s changes. Seasons become a domestic experience. Fink drew on the age-old, semi-nomadic lifestyle of her ancestors in the valley of the Bregenzerwald in the northern Alps. Here, the hyperlocal offers a solution for global issues.

Sissel Marie Tonn i.c.w. Jonathan Reus, Sensory Cartographies
Sissel Marie Tonn i.c.w. Jonathan Reus, Sensory Cartographies

RAW SATELLITE DATA

However, some designers rely on technology to experience nature. Indeed, why should we long for something that no longer exists? The Anthropocene has already begun. Sissel Marie Ton (2020 cohort) uses scientific data such as seismographic measurements. She combines this complex and abstract data with empathic conversations with Groningen residents about their earthquake experiences, which are common to this region because of gas field drilling. This layered information about both the human and geographical aspects of seismic activity was – literally – woven into a wearable vest in collaboration with two fashion designers. Together with sound artist Jonathan Reus (2018 cohort), she also realised an interactive composition of sonic vibrations to translate the intense experience of an earthquake to a broad audience. Ton’s installations connect natural processes with technology to make humankind’s impact on Earth visible and tangible. It is worth remembering that the earthquakes in Groningen were set in motion by humans.

New technologies, such as life science and biohacking, are reshaping our understanding of the natural world. It is no coincidence that these designers are about as old as Dolly the sheep, which in 1996 was the world’s first successfully cloned mammal. In his Tiger Penis Project, Taiwanese-Dutch designer Kuang-Yi Ku (2020 cohort) extended this genetic replication to healthcare. Many traditional Asian medicines regard the tiger penis as a medicine beneficial for male fertility. As a result, the tiger, already facing extinction, is under even more threat. Ku – who previously studied dentistry – proposed using stem cells to cultivate a tiger penis in the laboratory. This immediately raised all kinds of new dilemmas. Is the tiger penis that is laboratory-grown rather than from a wild tiger still suitable as a traditional Chinese medicine? In short, what are the limits of nature by design?

Kuang-Yi Ku, Tiger Penis Project
Kuang-Yi Ku, Tiger Penis Project

This fusion of biology and technology will eventually lead to a new kind of being: the posthuman. Jewellery designer Frank Verkade (2017 cohort) developed a scenario for this engineered body with his Paradise project. However, instead of technology, Verkade gives plants and animals a prominent role in adapting the human body to modern times. The origin of jewellery is, in fact, to be found in prehistoric peoples who used animal forms and natural materials to harness the mythical forces of nature. By harking back to the ancient, Verkade connects the modern human to its environment.

HACKING TECHNOLOGY

If technology becomes such a determining factor for humankind’s future, then surely we cannot entrust the future of our technology to a small group of wealthy, middle-aged white men from Silicon Valley and the European Parliament? According to speculative designer Frank Kolkman (2018 cohort), the discussion about technology’s quotidian role must therefore be part of our daily life. OpenSurgery is a study into a do-it-yourself surgical robot. These are already being built using 3D printers and laser cutters by people in the US who cannot afford a doctor. The self-proclaimed design hacker exposes technology’s social, ethical and political implications. But what do we think of this, and is this something we even want? After all, turning back technology is almost impossible.

Frank Kolkman, Opensurgery
Frank Kolkman, Opensurgery

Such ambivalent attitudes towards technology are a common thread in the new design mentality. With the tablet at hand and a laptop at school, this design generation grew up as digital natives. Technology plays a prominent role in their lives. However, they also know the risks: robotics, big data and artificial intelligence raise novel ethical dilemmas about privacy and employment. According to data designer Julia Janssen (2018 cohort), multiple times a day, we carelessly dismiss warnings that state ‘I agree with the terms’ or ‘click here to continue’. But what do we actually permit? Who collects what data, and above all, why? And what is the value of such information flows? Janssen’s project, 0.0146 Seconds (the time it takes to click on the ‘accept all’ button), informs us of the invisible economy behind the internet. She published all 835 privacy rules of the website for British tabloid the Daily Mail in a hefty tome. At events like the Dutch Design Week, the public reads this book aloud as a public indictment.

PROSECUTION AND DEFENSE

The new digital reality in which nothing is as it appears and fake news lurks everywhere pushes designers into the role of seeking the truth. To prevent complex global issues, such as globalisation or climate change, from becoming bogged down in an abstract discussion, the design duo Cream on Chrome (Martina Huynh and Jonas Althaus, 2020 cohort) used a fictitious lawsuit, without a trace of irony, to indict everyday objects. A sneaker is arrested and prosecuted for climate change, and a face mask is put on trial for not being present in time to prevent contamination. Cream on Chrome uses this debate between prosecutor and defence to question the mutual recriminations and the search for a scapegoat. In reality, are we not the ones who are actually on trial?

Cream on Chrome, Proxies on Trial
Cream on Chrome, Proxies on Trial

DESIGNING FOR URGENCY

Designers thus assume the role of the canary in the coal mine, warning us about the consequences of 15 September 2008, 12 December 2015 and 17 March 2018. The Talent Development Scheme enables them to do this without the hindrance of a lack of time and money – and perhaps even more importantly, without the pressure of quantifiable returns. Only free experimentation allows for unexpected insights. Who would have thought that Kuang-Yi Ku’s Tiger Penis Project could have prevented a global pandemic if also applied to bats and pangolins? Or that the Daily Mail is no longer recognised by Wikipedia as a reliable news source, as Julia Jansen already indicated?

Instead of conforming to the powers that be, designers take on the opportunity to transform the world; instead of imminent irreversibility, potential improvement is nurtured. The world is explained and improved with speculative and practical, but always inventive, designs. This makes the Talent Development Scheme a valuable resource for individual designers and society as a whole.

Text: Jeroen Junte

Longread Talent #3
Me and the other
Empathetic design talent focuses on people, not themselves (or things)

In the past seven years, the Creative Industries Fund NL has supported over 250 young designers with the Talent Development grant. In three longreads, we look for the shared mentality of this design generation, which has been shaped by the great challenges of our time. They examine how they deal with themes such as technology, climate, privacy, inclusiveness and health. In this third and final longread, the focus is no longer on personal success and individual expression but on ‘the other’.

The refugee crisis dominated 2015. Although people from Africa and Central Asia have been cast adrift by war, poverty and oppression for years, that summer, hundreds of refugees on often makeshift boats and dinghies drowned in the Mediterranean. The impotence, anger, frustration, despair and sadness were aptly depicted in the photo of the drowned three-year-old Syrian toddler Alan Kurdi’s body washed ashore on the Turkish coast. Where the financial crisis of 2008 was almost invisible – indeed, even the bankers were at a loss – it was no longer possible to look away, not only in the media but also on the streets. The misery of the other has become pervasive and omnipresent.

Asylum seeker centres in the Netherlands were full to overflowing. Designer Manon van Hoeckel (2018 cohort) saw the refugees in her neighbourhood during her studies at the Design Academy Eindhoven. Realising she had never spoken to an asylum seeker, Van Hoeckel visited a squatted building that housed people who had been rejected asylum. She saw these people were neither scammers nor pitiful, but rather powerful people who want to participate in and contribute to society – precisely what this group was prohibited from doing. Out of concern and determination, Van Hoeckel devised a travelling embassy for undocumented asylum seekers and migrants in limbo: unwanted in the Netherlands and their country of origin. The refugees, or ‘ambassadors’, could invite local residents, passers-by and officials here for a conversation. The In Limbo Embassy facilitated meetings between local residents and a vulnerable group of newcomers.

EMPATHIC ENGAGEMENT

In many ways, Van Hoeckel’s attitude is typical of a generation that has benefitted from the Talent Development Scheme of the Creative Industries Fund NL for the past seven years. Design is no longer about stuff but about people. This empathic enthusiasm now permeates all design disciplines. Personal success and individual expression are no longer paramount. The designer, researcher and maker are categorically focused on the other. The 2015 refugee crisis has acted as both a particle accelerator and a broadening of the profession because such humanitarian crises require unorthodox and radical proposals and ideas.

Lena Knappers
Lena Knappers

Urban planner Lena Knappers (2019 cohort) studied the spatial living conditions of asylum seekers, labour migrants and international students. As part of her research at TU Delft, Rethinking the Absorption Capacity of Urban Space, she developed strategies to integrate migrants into the host society sustainably. Too often, housing is temporary and informal, such as ad hoc container housing in the suburbs or vacant army barracks. Knappers researched alternative and more inclusive forms of reception, focusing on the interpretation of public space. Ultimately, she has an even greater goal: an inclusive city in which all forms of inequality in public space are investigated and remedied.

The extent to which immigration has become part of the creative disciplines’ everyday reality is evident in the practice of Andrius Arutiunian (2021 cohort). After completing a master’s in Composition at the Royal Conservatory in The Hague, he focused on the tension between migration and new technologies. In his development year, he studied the impact of displacement and dissent on society and how this impact can manifest itself in soundscapes. What does the integration of newcomers to the Netherlands sound like? A common factor is the concept of gharib, which means ‘strange’ or ‘mysterious’ in Arabic, Persian and Armenian. Arutiunian does not want to create specific encounters between people or pursue new forms of living. The cultural influence of migration only serves to enrich his professional practice.

SINGLE FATHERS

Inclusivity and cultural diversity are now dominant societal issues. For example, the Black Lives Matter movement in the United States has fuelled intense debate about institutional racism. The other is no longer a stranger to our borders and is our neighbour or colleague. Despite this, society threatens to become polarised, marginalising demographic groups as a result. Designers actively engage in this discourse and apply design as an emancipating force for an all-inclusive society, open and accessible to everyone, regardless of background.

Giorgio Toppin, KABRA (XHOSA), Foto: Onitcha Toppin
Giorgio Toppin, KABRA (XHOSA), Foto: Onitcha Toppin

The emancipation of disadvantaged groups starts with exploring and understanding a shared identity. Only by understanding one’s origins, culture and traditions can one finally obtain a fully-fledged place in society. Giorgio Toppin (2020 cohort) is a proud Bijlmer-Amsterdammer and a Black man with a Surinamese background. His Xhosa fashion label mixes these worlds into new stories, translating them into men’s clothing that fits within the contemporary Western context. For the Surinamese diaspora narratives that inform his collections, he travelled to his native country to research and document local craftsmanship and traditional production techniques. He then manufactured sweaters using indigenous knotting techniques and interpreted a winter coat using hand-embroidered traditional prints from the Saramacca district. Conversely, he reimagined the Creole ‘kotomisi’, which is difficult to wear, with a comfortable and contemporary cut. Toppin’s bicultural fashion strengthened the cultural identity of Surinamese people and thereby increased the understanding and appreciation for their origin among other population groups. After all, Toppin insists his clothes must first and foremost be ‘cool to wear’.

Of course, creative disciplines have always been good at strengthening an identity. Fashion, functional objects, interiors and photographic images are simply excellent means for showing who you are and especially who you want to be. In recent years, however, identity no longer signifies a non-committal lifestyle but can also be a stigma that determines one’s social position. Identity is not always a choice, yet it has considerable influence on daily life – something to which Surinamese, Turkish, Moroccan and Antillean Dutch people, up to the fourth generation, can testify. Any designer that examines fixed identities must be acutely aware of cultural and emotional sensitivities. The designer who simply explains what is right and wrong lags behind the inclusive facts.

Marwan Magroun, The Life of Fathers, Adison & Ayani
Marwan Magroun, The Life of Fathers, Adison & Ayani

Consequently, designers increasingly work from a position of personal involvement or agency (ownership). Photographer and storyteller Marwan Magroun (2020 cohort) captured the world of single fathers with a migrant background in his documentary project The Life Of Fathers. Magroun, who grew up without a father figure for most of his childhood, sought answers to and stories of an often unnoticed but deeply felt fatherhood. He wanted to dispel the notion that fathers from a migrant background are not involved in parenting. His photographic report and accompanying film (now broadcast on NPO3) has given a group of devoted but underestimated fathers a voice and a face.

QUEERS AND EXTENDED FAMILIES

Diversity is embraced and propagated throughout society. Prevailing views on gender, sexuality and ethnicity are shifting. This also means plenty of playing and experimentation with identity and how it can be designed. As a result, designers are no longer a conduit for industry or government but adopt an activist stance. The guiding principle is social cohesion and no longer one’s ego. Renee Mes (2021 cohort) wanted to dismantle the stereotyping of the LGBTQ+ community and thereby increase acceptance. She focused specifically on how extended families are shaped within the various queer communities. This self-selected family is often built as an alternative to the rejection or shame from the families in which queers were raised. But this new lifestyle struggles with legal, medical, educational and other institutional disadvantages. Mes’s approach was that was make being seen the first step toward recognition.

For her research and film portraits, Mes, who is white cisgender, worked with the organisation Queer Trans People of Colour. Collaboration can also generate agency. Besides, whose identity is being addressed? Or, to use the terminology of Black Lives Matter, ‘nothing about us without us’. It is logical – and maybe even necessary – that inclusive design is realised according to these politically correct rules of agency and representation. Indeed, the countless cultural sensitivities demand great care.

SELECTION AND SCOUTING

The creative industries are not exempt from equal opportunities. The design disciplines are not free from stereotypes. The Mediated Bodies research project by Gabriel A. Maher (2016 cohort) meticulously maps the gender relationships in the international design magazine Frame. Eighty per cent of the people in the magazine were male – from the designers interviewed to the models in the advertisements. Moreover, women were mainly portrayed in role-confirming and sometimes even submissive positions, such as bending over or crouching down. Maher’s feminist practice seeks to ‘deconstruct’ the design discipline to identify the existing power structure and prejudices. Only after an active process of self-reflection and criticism can design fulfil its potential as a discipline that contributes to societal improvement.

However, attention to polyphony alone is insufficient. Representation should be proportional, especially in the creative disciplines. The Talent Development Scheme actively contributes to this balance with new forms of selection. Scout nights are available for designers, researchers and makers who have developed professionally in practice, without a formal design training. During these evenings, talented designers who work outside the established creative channels can pitch their work to a jury. Many designers who use these scout nights belong to minority groups for whom going to an art academy or technical university is less established.

Khalid Amakran, Hady
Khalid Amakran, Hady

The self-taught Rotterdam photographer Khalid Amakran (2021 cohort) has developed from hobbyist to professional portrait photographer. After selection during a scout night, he devoted a year to a project about the identity formation of young second and third-generation Moroccan Dutch people. Amakran’s 3ish project comprises a book and short documentary detailing this group’s struggles with loyalty issues, code-switching, institutional racism, jihadism, and Moroccan Dutch males’ politicisation. Representing emerging talents from bicultural or non-binary backgrounds is imperative for the creative industries. Only visible examples and recognisable role models can create a feeling of recognition and appreciation and guarantee the diversity necessary for the creative industries.

ARAB CALLIGRAPHY

The scout nights have selected nine talented practitioners for the 2020 and 2021 cohorts. This number will undoubtedly increase in the coming years. An added value is that these designers are growing the diversity of content in their field through their singular professional practices. Another self-taught recipient is ILLM, the alias of illustrator Qasim Arif (2021 cohort). He mixes the age-old craft of calligraphy with contemporary elements of hip-hop and street culture. Traditional Arabic calligraphy is, by definition, two-dimensional because, according to Islamic regulations, the sculpting of living beings is reserved for Allah. ILLM wants to convert this visual language into sculptures. He also draws inspiration from his own life. He grew up in a metropolis as a third-generation Moroccan Dutch citizen, which informs his mix of calligraphy with pop-cultural icons like the Nike Air Max 1, a recognisable status symbol representing the dreams, wishes and memories of many children from migrant backgrounds. ILLM merges street culture and age-old graphic craftsmanship into a completely new idiom.

DRIVERS OF INCLUSION

The Talent Development Scheme is a necessary social empowerment that naturally coincides with an activist attitude. A sincere and profound commitment to identity and inclusivity guides designers, researchers and makers. Through a capacity for empathy and sensitivity – either innately or through collaboration with the target group – they can catalyse transformative initiatives and constructive debate. This capacity unlocks the creative disciplines’ powerful potential: the realisation of a diverse society in which all sections of society are equal. After all, looking at the other ultimately means looking at us all.

Text: Jeroen Junte

Diamons Investment & the New Oil
by Rosa te Velde

Around 1960, Dutch television broadcast its first talent show, a concept imported from America. ‘Nieuwe Oogst’ (New Harvest) was initially made in the summer months on a small budget. It turned out that talent shows were a cheap way of making entertaining television: participants seized the opportunity to become famous by showcasing their tricks, jokes, creating entertainment and spectacle — in return for coffee and travelling expenses.1

Talent shows have been around since time immemorial, but the concept of talent development — the notion of the importance of financial support and investment to talent — is relatively new. Since the rise of the information society and knowledge economy in the 1970s, the notion of ‘lifelong learning’ has become ever more important. Knowledge has become an asset. Refresher courses, skill development and flexibility are no longer optional, and passion is essential. You are now responsible for your own happiness and success. You are expected to ‘own’ your personal growth process. In 1998, McKinsey & Company published ‘The War for Talent’. This study explored the importance of high performers for companies, and how to recruit, develop and motivate talented people and retain them as employees. In the past few decades, talent management has become an important element in companies’ efforts to maximise their competitiveness, nurture new leaders or bring about personal growth. Sometimes, talent management is aimed at the company as a whole, but it is more likely to focus on young, high-potential employees who either are already delivering good performances or have shown themselves to be promising.2

It was social geographer Richard Florida who made the connection between talent and creativity, in his book ‘The Rise of the Creative Class’ (2002). In this book, he drew the — irreversible — link between economic growth, urban development and creativity. A hint of eccentricity, a bohemian lifestyle and a degree of coolness are the determining factors for ‘creativity’ that provide space for value creation. His theory led to a surge in innovation platforms, sizzling creative knowledge regions and lively creative hubs and breeding grounds. The talent discourse became inextricably linked with the creative industry. The Global Creativity Index, for instance, set up by Florida (in which the Netherlands was ranked 10th in 2015), is based on the three ‘Ts’ of technology, talent and tolerance. The talent phenomenon really took off in the world of tech start-ups, with innovation managers fighting for the most talented individuals in Silicon Valley. ‘Talent is the new oil’.

The idea that talent can grow and develop under the right conditions is diametrically opposed to the older, romantic concept of a God-given, mysterious ‘genius’. The modern view sees talent as not innate (at least, not entirely so), which is why giving talent money and space to develop makes sense. Like the Growing Diamond (groeibriljant), the Dutch diamond purchase scheme in which diamonds can become ‘ever more valuable’.

What is the history of cultural policy and talent development in the Netherlands? Whereas before the Second World War the state had left culture to the private sector, after the war it pursued an active ‘policy of creating incentives and setting conditions’.3 The state kept to the principles of Thorbecke and did not judge the art itself.4 But literary historian Bram Ieven argues that a change took place in the 1970s. It was felt art needed to become more democratic, and to achieve that it needed to tie in more with the market: “[…] from a social interpretation of art (art as participation), to a market-driven interpretation of the social task of art (art as creative entrepreneurship).”5 The Visual Artists’ (Financial Assistance) Scheme (BKR) and later the Artists’ Work and Income Act (WWIK) gave artists and designers long-term financial support if they did not have enough money, provided they had a certificate from a recognised academy or could prove they had a professional practice.6

It was Ronald Plasterk’s policy document on culture, ‘The Art of Life’ (2007), that first stressed the importance of investing in talent, as so much talent was left ‘unexploited’.7 Plasterk called in particular for more opportunities to be given to ‘outstanding highly talented creatives’, mainly so that the Netherlands could remain an international player. Since then, ‘talent development’ has become a fixture in cultural policy. Halbe Zijlstra also acknowledged the importance of talent in ‘More than Quality’ (2012), but he gave a different reason: ‘As in science, it is important in culture to create space for new ideas and innovation that are not being produced by the market because the activities in question are not directly profitable.’8 This enabled the support for talent to be easily justified from Zijlstra’s notoriously utilitarian perspective with its focus on returns, even after the economic crisis. Jet Bussemaker also retained the emphasis on talent development, and talent is set to remain on the agenda in the years ahead.9

The Creative Industries Fund NL first gave grants to a group of talented creatives in 2013. As in the Mondrian Fund’s talent development programme, the policy plan for 2013–2016 opted for a single, joint selection round each year. While the emphasis was on individual projects, it was noted that a joint assessment would be more objective and professional and that this would facilitate the accompanying publicity.10

Who is considered a possible talented creative? To be eligible for a grant, you have to satisfy a number of specific requirements: you have to be registered with the Chamber of Commerce, have completed a design degree less than four years ago and be able to write a good application that persuades the nine committee members from the sector that you have talent. Based on the application, they decide how much potential, or promise, they see in your development, taking into account the timing of the grant for your career. While there are many nuances in the application process, these factors make sure the concept of ‘talent’ is clearly defined.

If you get through the tough selection process — on average ten to fifteen per cent of the applications result in a grant — you enjoy the huge luxury of being able to determine your own agenda for an entire year, of being able to act instead of react. It seems as if you have been given a safe haven, a short break from your precarious livelihood. But can it actually end up reinforcing the system of insecurity? What should be a time for seizing opportunities may also lead to self-exploitation, stress and paralysis. In practice, the creative process is very haphazard. Will the talented creatives be able to live up to their promise?

One of them went on a trip to China, another was able to do a residency in Austria, while yet another gave up their part-time job. Many have carried out research in a variety of forms, from field studies and experiments with materials to writing essays. Some built prototypes or were finally able to buy Ernst Haeckel’s ‘Kunstformen der Natur’. Others organised meetings, factory visits, encounters, interviews and even a ball.

Is there a common denominator among the talented creatives who were selected? As in previous years, this year the group was selected specifically to ensure balance and diversity — encompassing a sound artist, a filmmaker, a design thinker, a researcher, a cartographer, a storyteller, a former architect and a gender activist-cum-fashion designer. Given the diversity of such a group, a joint presentation may feel forced. But presenting them to the outside world as a group enhances the visibility of these talented people, and this is important, because how else can the investment be vindicated?

These are the questions that the Creative Industries Fund NL has been debating ever since the first cohort: how to present this group without the presentation turning into a vulgar, unsubtle spectacle or propagating a romantic notion of talent, and at the same time, how to show the outside world what is being done with public money. And what would benefit the talented individuals themselves? In the past few years, various approaches have been tested as ways of reflecting on the previous year, from various curated exhibitions with publications and presentations to podcasts, texts, websites, workshops and debates.

The Creative Industries Fund NL operates as a buffer between neoliberal policy and the reality of creativity. The fund provides a haven for not-yet-knowing, exploration, making, experimentation and failure, without setting too many requirements. It is a balancing exercise: how do you tone down the harsh language of policy and keep at bay those who focus only on returns on investment, while still measuring and showing the need for this funding, and thereby safeguarding it?

Following input from the talented creatives themselves, a different approach has been chosen this year: there will be no exhibition. Most do not see the Dutch Design Week as the right place for them; only one or two are interested in presenting a ‘finished’ design or project at all, and they do not necessarily wish to do so during the Dutch Design Week. What is more, many of the talented individuals have used the grant for research and creating opportunities. Therefore, instead of a joint exhibition, the decision has been made to organise a gathering and to publish profile texts and video portraits on ‘Platform Talent’, an online database. This will put less emphasis on the work of the previous year and more on the visibility of the maker and the process they are going through, marking a shift away from concrete or applied results and towards their personal working methods. Will this form of publicity satisfy the general public’s appetite and curiosity and will it meet politicians’ desire for results? Has it perhaps become more important to announce that there is talent and not what that talent is? Or is this a way of avoiding quantification and relieving the pressure?

Perhaps what unites the talented creatives most is the fact that, although they have been recognised as ‘high performers’, they are all still searching for sustainable ways of working creatively within a precarious, competitive ecosystem that is all about seizing opportunities, remaining optimistic and being permanently available. So far, there is little room for failure or vulnerability, or to discuss the capriciousness of the creative process. The quest for talent is still a show, a hunt, a competition or battle.

1 https://anderetijden.nl/aflevering/171/Talentenjacht
2 Elizabeth G. Chambers et al. ‘The War for Talent’ in: The McKinsey Quarterly 3, 1998 pp. 44–57. This study was published in book form in 2001.
3 Roel Pots, ‘De tijdloze Thorbecke: over niet-oordelen en voorwaarden scheppen in het Nederlandse cultuurbeleid’ in: Boekmancahier 13:50, 2001, pp. 462-473, p. 466.
4 Thorbecke was a mid-nineteenth-century Dutch statesman.
5 Bram Ieven, ‘Destructive Construction: Democratization as a
Vanishing Mediator in Current Dutch Art Policy’ in: Kunstlicht, 2016 37:1, p. 11.
6 The Visual Artists’ (Financial Assistance) Scheme was in force from 1956 to 1986 and the Artists’ Work and Income Act from 2005 to 2012.
7 Ronald Plasterk, ‘Hoofdlijnen Cultuurbeleid Kunst van Leven’, 2007, p. 5. The Dutch politician Ronald Plasterk was Minister of Education, Culture and Science from 2007 to 2010.
8 Halbe Zijlstra, ‘Meer dan Kwaliteit: Een Nieuwe visie op cultuurbeleid’, 2012, p. 9. The Dutch politician Halbe Zijlstra was State Secretary of Education, Culture and Science from 2010 to 2012.
9 Jet Bussemaker is a Dutch politician who was Minister of Education, Culture and Science from 2012 to 2017.
10 Creative Industries Fund NL, policy plan for 2013/2016.


Text: Rosa te Velde

Alessandra Scalora

Alessandra Scalora

'Did you know that bees buzz on a frequency that has a calming effect on humans? Bees contribute more than honey alone.' Beekeeper, artist, museum guide and mother Alessandra Scalora learns a lot from 'her' bees. As an independent beekeeper, she works weekly on the rooftops of Het Ketelhuis and the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven since 2016. She found a sense of peace and quiet with her bees, which provide a literal counter 'noise' to her thoughts. 'My mind goes quiet whenever I'm with the bees. This was also the inspiration for my Humbled by bees project. I wanted to explore making paint pigments from the pollen left behind in the beehive.'

Fast forward to Sicily, where Scalora spent a large part of her youth in her grandparents' lush garden. Highlighting female beekeepers was one aim of her project. She planned to meet local beekeepers and her Italian cousin, a photographer, was going to document it all. However, things turned out differently. Her cousin could not make it and one of the beekeepers had stopped. This was very stressful for Scalora. 'It forced me to make some quick changes but my project ultimately became better because of it. The feminist approach did not appear to be the right one. The story I want to tell is bigger and also concerns my roots in Sicily.' This proved to be her biggest challenge: adapt, refocus, and fight her fear of failure. She decided to start focusing on making natural pigments. 'Besides my own pollen, I also collected local flowers, stones and ashes from the Mount Etna volcano.' In Rome and The Hague, she learned how to make natural paints and ink from these materials.

Scalora intended to create ten works of art, each one framed in wood from her beehive. She now sees the end product differently. 'The actual research, which took more time than expected, is also part of the end result. I would like to record that process in a book.' But first her artworks: Scalora uses her own paints and ink to print the engravings she makes, based on the patterns she finds in the beehives. 'In Italy I explored woodworking, and after this year I'd like to learn wood turning to make my own honey jars.' All the different aspects from her story, about the importance of bees in the broadest sense, come together in this project. After all, Scalora's childhood would have been very different without bees. 'That my grandparents' garden was full of fruit trees is also thanks to the bee.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Alyson Sillon

Alyson Sillon

Multidisciplinary designer Alyson Sillon graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie with a bachelor's degree in graphic design in 2022. In her work, she combines her interest in social themes, often related to subcultures and fashion, with graphic design and performance art. She aims to convey values such as empowerment, enlightenment and connection. Sillon: 'With Before/after I show how techno parties can be an occasion of transformation or self-discovery. I take the audience with me on a personal journey and share my insights. Personally, I do not use any mind-altering substances at parties. I see the rave as a way to explore the limitations and abilities of my body, comparable with a sports or training session.'

Sillon performed extensive research on rave culture and how it has changed. 'Originally, raves were anti-establishment events attended by young people. These raves were illegal, disruptive, hedonistic, dark and transcendental. It was as if people could let their bodies move without any sense of shame. It has now developed into an industry where famous DJ's and light shows have become more significant. I feel that this setting may impact the sense of intimacy, so that the attendees no longer feel they can let themselves go. I wonder how we can bring back this communal need for people to fully express themselves and feel ecstatic in the moment, like how it used to be.'

The final product of Sillon's project – a journey through the night – is an experiment where she aims to enable the audience to experience deep emotions during an event. 'Before the DJ gets behind the decks, there is a warming-up period with meditation and an inspiring art moment, so that the participants can connect with themselves and others.'

Recently, Sillon has been working on further research, on stories that provide a theoretical framework for the themes being explored, and on spiritual clock with twelve plexiglass objects to represent the different moments at a rave. 'I want to emphasise the Black and queer roots of techno with this multisensory installation, based on the aesthetics of Afrofuturism and Egyptian symbolism.'

The final project phase consists of developing the choreography and forging collaborations with DJ's and artists. 'I have to get out of my artistic bubble and ask other creatives to share my vision. This is a challenging and exciting phase that requires dedication and faith in the final end result. Hopefully, this experiment will result in a concept I can present at various locations.'

Text by Iris Stam
Amos Peled

Amos Peled

More than anything else, Amos Peled is driven by sheer curiosity. 'Just look at the aesthetics of medical equipment alone, such as an ultrasound machine,' he eagerly points out. 'It can provide us with the beautiful experience of being able to look inside the body.' The multidisciplinary artist focuses on experimental music, audiovisual installations and performance art. Peled was born in Israel in 1997 and grew up in a hospital environment, where he, as a patient, became fascinated by the medical systems around him. These early experiences now form the basis of his work. 'I've thought a lot about ways to introduce creativity into the medical world', he explains. 'When I got the opportunity to buy an ultrasound machine for five hundred euros, I decided to explore this piece of equipment from an artistic point of view. I started by using the machine as a camera to film my own body after which I started to involve patients and medical personnel to develop creative processes that would use this technology.'

His approach to this creative use of medical equipment drew the attention of various institutions, including Utrecht University, HKU University of the Arts, WKZ Children's Story Bank, UMC Utrecht, Leiden University Medical Centre and De Nieuwe Utrechtse School who could all see the potential. Peled now shows narrative and poetic 'ultrasound films' at film festivals both in the Netherlands and abroad. For these films he uses the human body as an abstract medium to tell stories, with bodily organs becoming characters and landscapes. He will also take part in Betweter festival scheduled for late September 2024 where visitors will be given the opportunity to see inside their own bodies.

During his development year, he also started to collaborate with artist Job Santé with whom he established the Creative Laboratory for the Exploration of Medical Technology (CLEMT). 'The core idea of CLEMT is to create situations where patients can use medical technology creatively on themselves. I want to enrich healthcare through a mix of multidisciplinary approaches and collaborations.' CLEMT also wants to organise a series of workshops in the medical environment to share the creative use of medical technology. By doing so, Peled hopes to deconstruct the hierarchical relationship between doctors, patients, the body, and medical technology. This process is a deliberate attempt to challenge the medically constrained interpretations of the body, injecting subjective biases into frames of supposed objectivity—blending truth with fact, art with science.

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Ange Neveu

Ange Neveu

May your eyes never look away, may your genitals always be lubricated (porn, pixels, power and the panda desire economy) is the title of the development plan submitted by Ange Neveu. Although the artistic researcher from Rotterdam, who graduated from the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague, had three different projects in mind, there is only one component this title specifically refers to. Neveu: 'I really wanted to make a documentary based on my earlier research into panda porn. I grew up with the internet and I'm a bit of a hoarder so when I came across a video with panda porn I couldn't resist adding it to my archive. It wasn't long before I started to obsessively archive these videos to try and understand what I was looking at, i.e. how zoos encourage giant pandas in captivity to mate by showing them porn images and exercising their muscles.'

Neveu's film has become a short, fictitious documentary about the life of the female giant panda Mei Xiang who lives in the National Zoo in Washington D.C. The panda gave birth to a total of seven cubs of which four reached adulthood. Neveu: 'I tell the story from three different angles: the surveillance cameras, the public, and TV journalism. The film looks at the asymmetric relationships between humans and animals, forced procreation and commodification.' Neveu took various courses such as 'scriptwriting' and 'experimental filmmaking' to ensure that the documentary with the working title Drowned in likeness can be shown in both art and film spaces. Neveu also wanted to start a research project on invasive plants and queer migrants – 'two groups that are surviving in hostile environments' – and had hoped to forge a new collaboration to analyse the used research methods. All this required a very strict planning and the artist found it impossible to allocate the necessary time to each separate project.

Still, the year has been very fruitful: 'For me, the most rewarding aspect was the collaborations. This is something that I really used to struggle with in the past but I'm really happy to have met the people that I met and what they contributed. I hope I can continue to work with them in the future.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Anna Torres

Anna Torres

Anna Torres is active in the areas of architecture, research and art. In her design practice, she has recently started to research the role of what she likes to call a 'spatial detective'. Her studio overlooks Warmoesstraat, in Amsterdam's De Wallen red light district. She is fascinated by the area with its myths and symbols, its interesting history, its many different communities and power structures. This area plays an important role in her work which focuses on themes such as spatial justice, feminism, queerness and sexuality in urban spaces. Torres embraces the layers and rawness of these themes. She firmly believes that places, people and concepts should not be made more palatable or acceptable before they can be taken seriously or cared about.

Torres works with sex workers to better understand the complex power structures in the area. 'My goal as an architect is not so much to work for sex workers, but with them. Sex workers are professionals in their chosen area and should be treated as such in collaborations. I seek to inventory how this group presents itself in spatial terms, how we can collectively make space for providers of pleasure through scenarios of promising imagination, and how we can communicate these findings in an understandable way. I connect these aspects in various ways, from soft mapping, drawing, painting and collages to participation in political discussions and the organisation of creative communal workshops. For example, during a “world building” session I encouraged sex workers to imagine the workplace of their dreams, which they did while cutting and pasting in a fun and safe environment. It was beautiful!'

Torres wants to create a publication with all input she has collected from research, sessions, projects and reflection, serving as a love letter to the area. She is also working on a videogame about De Wallen. Currently, she is artist in residence for HXSSY, an art and culture collective that wants to strengthen the relationship between sex workers, artists, neighbours and the community in the De Wallen area through art. Torres also recently started her first collaboration project with Studio Ventura, with whom she created an alternative, queer dark room for the Pornceptual event. 'I learned how satisfying it is to build something 1:1. I'd love to be more involved with these kinds of practical, fast and tangible projects and to experiment with various collaborations and roles. It helps you to understand your own contribution and to reflect on your practice.'

Text by Iris Stam
Anna Zan

Anna Zan

Anna Zań (originally from Poland) graduated as an architect in 2021 at the Academy of Architecture Amsterdam, and started teaching at the same academy. She also set up her own design and research practice. 'My message is that we need to find ways to build without depleting the natural resources. Elevate the ordinary, use the raw materials that have been overlooked so far, upgrade these and reuse them. For example by combining minerals and bio-based materials such as straw, wood and cellulose with the “waste soil” excavated in our cities.'

Zań has been researching the latter since 2023 with research partner Elise Laurent. This year she has continued to work on the project, titled Building cities from waste soil. Zań: 'Vast amounts of soil are excavated in our cities, for instance to expand metro lines, to build new neighbourhoods, and to densify existing ones. This excavation is necessary to ensure safe foundations. What if this soil were to become the primary resource for new construction?'

Zań examined the soil that is excavated in Dutch cities. Although this preliminary research started with just six cities, she already discovered a wide variety of clay and loam soil types. They range from various marine and river clay types to the dark ochre-coloured loam from the south of the country, each very specific to the city's local landscape. She also worked with Rokus Oskam (Oskam VF) to test the soil's application in the production of raw compressed building bricks. Zań: 'The compression creates solid and sustainable bricks, while the process uses just one per cent of the energy spent on producing traditional bricks.'

In project Nieuw Oud Oost Leeuwarden, named after the local district, she worked with M3H Architecten, DS Landschapsarchitecten, Oskam VF, Homes Factory and Strotec to build a prototype for social, affordable, prefabricated and bio-based houses with a healthy indoor climate. 'We developed compressed earth blocks and clay-straw plaster to finish the houses on the inside and outside. To do so we combined bio-based materials such as straw, wood and cellulose with high-quality marine clay, which is excavated on-site to create room for water. These promising results were displayed at the International Architecture Biennale Rotterdam 2024.' As Zań sums up: 'Material research, teaching, publishing, exhibitions… What I have learned is that my practice can expand beyond design assignments and include many other activities.'

Text by Iris Stam
Chen-Yu Wang

Chen-Yu Wang

Through her sheer determination to make it as a designer and artist, Chen-Yu Wang made peace with her past as a factory girl, working very hard every day. She now realises how well these three roles complement one another. The former factory girl from Taiwan developed a sharp eye for conflicting situations and capitalism, as well as for the Eastern and Western perspectives on these matters. Her work addresses all these things. 'I use textiles, sculptures and installations to make Western audiences aware of the working conditions and the human stories behind the products that they use in their day-to-day lives. Following graduation, I realised that I wanted to give other factory girls a voice too. This resulted in The rest factory.

The rest factory is, aside from a solution and ideology, a protest against the capitalist world. It challenges existing business models by introducing 'rest' as a key method and by aiming for a reflective and creative production system. 'I believe that art can make a difference in this world. It is my aim to set up a self-sustaining social collective where factory girls play a full part, with fair wages and dignified work.' Wang's biggest challenge this year was to further flesh out this plan. 'I am continuously redefining, looking for the right forms and collaborations.' Wang took courses in sound therapy, sound art, social enterprise, anthropology, lithography, silk screen printing and weaving this year.

Wang's stay in India yielded interesting new insights. 'In Calicut I met weavers Beena and Ramu, who work with shuttle looms. The meditative weaving sound – dhat dhat dhat – inspired me to visualise it. I drew while listening to the sounds of the loom, which I recorded as well, and it felt like a kind of weaving with my pen.' Wang showed her drawing to the weavers and asked them to sign her work. 'I want to tell the story of the workers behind these kinds of artistic processes.' The rhythmic weaving sounds took Wang back to her youth in the factory. 'This is where I was “programmed” to work hard,' she says. 'Hard work is in my DNA. I sometimes wonder if I am even able to rest.' It is just a matter of time before The rest factory allows Wang to create the place she longs for. A place where she can rest her soul.

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Chenda Fekkes

Chenda Fekkes

Chenda Fekkes graduated as a 'creative artisan' from the Hout- en Meubileringscollege (a woodworking, furniture and interior design school) three years ago, with a specialisation in shoemaking. In her first job as an orthopaedic shoemaker, she focused mainly on repairs and adjustments. She worked on her own creations in her spare time: leather masks and lingerie as sexually liberating and empowering fashion accessories. She made her designs to order and sold them on Etsy. Even though this wasn't the perfect platform, she never doubted her design ambitions. Before her application to the Creative Industries Fund NL had been approved, she already quit her job. 'I simply couldn't wait,' says Fekkes, 'I just had to find out if I could turn my passion into a profession.'

Fekkes spent the last year focusing on the development and positioning of her brand, which she has given her middle name: Chisenga. She found a workshop behind the Tolhuistuin in Amsterdam-Noord where she started working on more than just her masks and lingerie. At a tannery in Naples, she searched for the perfect leather to expand her collection with leather skirts, tops, briefs and even a leather wedding dress as well as a website with the right look and feel. 'Up to this point, my masks and lingerie were mainly used as styling props for other people's photoshoots,' says Fekkes. 'I started making mood boards together with a creative director and rebranded my products. My visual materials now completely represent my personal style.'

She describes this style as edgy and feminist with a nod to fetish. 'I don't see Chisenga as a fetish label but more as a fashion brand inspired by the fetish “club kids” and punk culture. I have always been fascinated by masks and want to make them more accessible. I have noticed during photoshoots how a model's attitude changes when they wear one of my pieces. It makes them feel strong and attractive. I see their superpowers emerge. It's a wonderful thing to witness.' She hopes to reach a wider public with her new website. 'I like to create sexy designs that undermine the male gaze and conventional beauty standards.' During the run-up to her launch party in August, Fekkes is already working on the next step. She has just finished a course with the world-famous shoemaker René van den Berg: 'René and I are developing a shoe with a heel inspired by a sex toy. The result remains a surprise, but it is nearly finished.'

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Cotecreate Studio

Cotecreate Studio

María José Jara Veragua (Cotecreate Studio) embarked on a global journey eight years ago, leaving her native Chile and eventually settling in the Netherlands in 2019. Within a month after her arrival she began her own business, wishing to contribute actively rather than just learning the language. 'I started my own business in a field I had never worked in before: art. Because I believe art is a universal language that everyone understands. I wanted to connect with the community, and this seemed ideal.'

Having to find her way in a new environment but also learn a new profession and build a network was a steep learning curve. She quickly established a practice as an illustrator and social artist and was appointed as the city artist of Leeuwarden for three years in 2020. At the end of this period, she applied for the talent development grant to further professionalise her practice. During this year she felt it was time for the next step: 'My social nature drives my business, but I was searching for a deeper meaning behind my work.'

During a recent artist residency in Chile, she realised that despite her hard work and the appreciation for her art, she doesn't really have a sense of belonging in the Netherlands. She discovered that her work had always been focused on giving space and a voice to others without acknowledging her own story. 'What I discovered is that the most important thing is not just integration but creating a sense of belonging. The meaning of my work lies with people and their experiences. Art is a means to achieve this, not my goal.'

She started researching the concept of belonging through writing, drawing, and interviewing with people from the Netherlands and Chile. She asks her respondents to fill out surveys or create drawings of what belonging or exclusion means to them. She has collected over a hundred contributions, with which she intends to develop a method to increase our understanding of exclusion in society.

In the next phase, Cote plans to organise an exhibition featuring personal explorations of the theme of belonging through text and images. For Dutch Design Week she aims to create an interactive presentation where visitors can contribute their own input. Additionally, she is considering engaging with newcomers in the Netherlands and further developing her method to help them gain a stronger sense of belonging.

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Dae Uk Kim

Dae Uk Kim

Dae Uk Kim's objects, characterised by skin, hair, and sexually charged shapes, leave little to the imagination but represent much more. His goal for the development year was to enhance storytelling around his work. 'I make physical objects but miss communicating with the audience.' Through interaction, Kim hopes to better convey his story and be better understood. A graduate of the Design Academy Eindhoven, Kim grew up in conservative Korea, where he felt misunderstood in a culture that upheld the motto: 'Don't have any feelings and suppress your desires.' Everything he once had to suppress — his identity, gender expression, and freedom of choice –– is now embodied in his mutant 'characters.' It's not surprising that diversity and acceptance are central themes in his work.

Kim's Mutant project depicts his hidden desires. 'As a child, I loved playing with long hair, nail polish, and high heels, but I learned this was considered inappropriate. I felt my family's unease and sensed I was different from other boys at school.' In the Netherlands, he found more freedom but still struggled with self-expression. 'Though my surroundings had changed, I found it hard to adapt. A sense of shame lingered. This is why I created objects as alter egos to express myself.' During his development year, Kim aimed to communicate these deeper layers through mediums like video and performance. 'I sought help from MAISON the FAUX, who merge visual arts, including performance, fashion, and objects, into a strong narrative.' MAISON the FAUX agreed to mentor Kim, rather than collaborate. Over the past year, they completed two projects and have another big one planned. 'This was a fantastic opportunity. I learned how they create a visual narrative, like in the Timelesstime project, which featured a performance, installations, and video.'

This year, Kim learned to view his approach differently. 'Previously, I focused solely on objects, but now I begin with the concept and visual package, incorporating my objects.' He has learned to embrace his strengths and passions. 'In my plan, I intended to learn filming and editing, but I now understand this isn't necessary for a strong story. I don't need to do everything myself. As the creator and steward of a concept, I seek specialists who can support my message and objects, enabling me to tell a more powerful story.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Denzel Veerkamp

Denzel Veerkamp

Fashion designer Denzel Veerkamp grew up in Amsterdam, with a Dutch mother and Surinamese father. He often felt he was living between two cultures. 'Because I'd never been to Suriname, I started to have more and more questions and felt the need to explore the history and relationship between the two countries.'

Veerkamp started his trip with an open mind. He met his grandfather and other relatives for the first time, and immersed himself in the culture and the home of his ancestors. As a fashion designer, he subsequently wanted to capture his findings in fashion. 'I noticed how Surinamese women like to show off their traditional clothing on special occasions whereas men don't. This is what started my interest in the self-expression of Afro-Surinamese men and I discovered that there is no koto costume for men, for example.'

The story goes that the koto costume, an Afro-Surinamese garment that reminds many people of colonial times, was redesigned by the male colonist because women were no longer allowed to work around the house with bare torso. Women communicated non-verbally with one another through the ways they wore the koto and angisa (traditional headscarf). Veerkamp wanted to explore the significance of expression today. He visited archives, including the National Archive in Paramaribo, and sifted through letters, newspaper articles, magazines, photographs and clothing. With feelings of adoration, astonishment, wonder and pride he translated his findings into new designs. During Keti Koti, a commemoration of the abolition of slavery, he asked the residents of the care home where his grandmother lives to model his clothes, including an angisa, for which Veerkamp obtained his official diploma at the end of 2023.

However, it is still a challenge to produce the designs. The reuse of existing materials is a key pillar of Veerkamp's work. 'In Suriname, I realised that there are cultural and spiritual customs around the wearing of second-hand clothes. Surinamese people won't wear second-hand clothes unless it belonged to a close family member, because you don't know what the person who wore it before you got up to. In the Surinamese Creole culture people believe in spiritual cleansing through wassies, which are perfumed baths that wash away negative energy. I have adopted this custom and now use Florida water to remove any negative energies from the previous wearer.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Dries Verbeke

Dries Verbeke

Dries Verbeke's (Driever) art explores the intersection of craftsmanship and innovation. He describes his work as 'applied art' and although this may be an old-fashioned term, his work is far from dated. Verbeke creates objects that are not only useful but offer something extra too, such as a lamp made from items from stores that give away free stuff or an infinity table with lasered patterns, LED strips and (two-way) mirrors. 'I use these objects to show people that everything is changeable, everything is amazing,' he says. His designs clearly reveal his fascination for mechanics. His work is inspired by the inventions of Leonardo da Vinci, Panamarenko's (flying) vehicles and Theo Jansen's moving beach animals.

Although Verbeke, originally trained as a graphic designer, he has since developed further into a versatile artist and craftsman. He taught himself woodworking, metal working, welding and laser cutting; skills he needed to bring his creative ideas to life. Thanks to his experience with graphic programmes such as Illustrator, he found it relatively easy to switch to 3D drawing programmes. His projects expanded in line with his skills, not just in terms of size but even more so in terms of complexity and layers.

Supported by the talent development grant, Verbeke aims to make his work more interactive this year by integrating technology such as electronics, sensors and Python programming. 'The idea is to let humans literally influence the work, whereby their presence causes the work to respond through sensors,' he explains. This adds a new dimension to his work, with a focus on the interaction between art and the observer. Recent fatherhood has not reduced his ambitions. Although his plan to follow courses in Python and robotics have been put on the back burner since the birth of his son, he continues to develop himself using online tools such as ChatGPT and hands-on projects, such as the restoration of an old electric cargo bike, to increase his knowledge of electronics.

Verbeke has also discovered a new passion in education. He found it very inspiring to share his knowledge in a series of workshops for children of various ages. He hopes to develop this educational practice further in the next few years, in addition to his creative projects. 'I want to make things that survive us. Things that don't only still work hundreds of years from now, but then still have meaning as well.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Dunya Zita

Dunya Zita

Personal experiences and thoughts are often Dunya Zita's starting point. She then uses her practice as an instrument to truly explore and philosophise about the topics she is interested in.

Zita left for Morocco, her father's country of birth, in early 2024 and stayed for two months. 'He moved to the Netherlands in the early nineties and I've always wanted to know what it would be like to live there. I also wanted to spend time with my family who, except for my father, all stayed in Morocco.' In her project Mejmou3en (together) she weaves together stories and feelings around the themes of spirituality, connection, family, language, the connection between mind and body, and religion.

In contrast with the rest of her family in Morocco, Zita did not have a Muslim upbringing. 'When I saw how important religion is in their day-to-day lives, I started to explore my own spiritual beliefs, experiences and thoughts and looked at the similarities and differences between my family and myself. The language barrier proved to be one of the biggest challenges during this project. Although the power of connection transcends spoken and written language, the lack of shared language made it more challenging to develop closer relationships.'

Zita successfully used her instruments to put unconditional love, the Moroccan culture, (second generation) migration, community and the language barrier in the spotlight. In her practice she combines photography, film, audio and poetry. 'I use my writing to explore my subconscious and to uncover the depth of my thoughts, feelings and issues. I also like to look at ways of communicating that can establish a connection on another level. A level that transcends language, such as someone's energy.'

Her research into the connection between mind and body and the idea that the body can store emotions and experiences was also a key component of her work this year. 'Here, I find the physical aspect really interesting, partially because of my own experiences and also because I think that people in the West tend to focus more on the mind and less on the body.'

The connection between rational thought and emotions is a common thread in Zita's life and work. 'Rational thinking can get you a long way but emotions are more instinctive and, often unconsciously, changeable. It is about the interaction between experiences, emotions and physical responses.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Emmie Massias

Emmie Massias

Massias's plan was to perform research in Vietnam, into the links between the Dutch Imperial Oyster, Vietnamese mother-of-pearl inlays, and the French exploitation thereof. Designer and researcher Emmie Massias, who grew up in France and Vietnam, is interested in this ageold Vietnamese craft as well as in cultural influences, neoimperialism and the colonial origins of the European perspective. 'I want to explore and renew this craft by taking leave of the exoticism and traditional decorative and labour-intensive techniques.' But her development year took a very different turn when she was given the opportunity to work with wild clay and volcanic rock.

Massias had wanted to work with wild clay for some time when the perfect opportunity announced itself. 'I was working as a workshop coordinator for the French artistic organisation Domaine de Boisbuchet, where I met Mexican artists. A friendship developed that led me to being invited for a ceramic residency at Casa Ceniza in Guadalajara. I worked there for four months under the supervision of Maxine Álvarez, known for her research into wild clay and natural ash glazes.' Massias learnt to identify, 'harvest' and process wild clay. She created her own materials, putting together a library of glazes from finely ground volcanic rock, ash and charcoal. 'This way of working required an enormous adjustment after working with industrial ready-made materials.'

Using the wild clay, Massias worked on a series exploring the blurred lines between preservation and conservation which resulted in her first solo exhibition in Guadalajara. She gave something back to the community through a series of workshops about pouring wild clay with modular moulds. This experience taught Massias an important lesson: the impact of a community on a successful collaboration. 'I felt supported in Mexico. Local artists showed an interest and wanted to help and collaborate. I had never experienced that in quite the same way in the Netherlands. It taught me to open up and not wait so long before making connections with others.' Massias put what she learnt into practice: together with designer Marine Col, she established Studio Amalgame. During her time in Mexico, she participated in a workshop organised by marble factory Mármoles Covarrubias, where she worked with volcanic rock. This led to a fruitful collaboration with the manufacturer as well as an exhibition at the first Collectible Fair in New York in September. Another collaboration project saw Massias searching for wild clay and volcanic material during an excursion to Sicily with colleague ceramicist Elena Genesio. This way, Massias passes on the lessons learnt in Mexico.

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Enzo Aït Kaci

Enzo Aït Kaci

Enzo Aït Kaci has a background in graphic design and fashion. They are becoming less interested in creating something wearable. Their current research focuses on the visual and communicative aspects of clothes, both online and offline. How do major brands use visual materials? How do images move across the internet and what is the impact in the material world? 'I am interested in physical things that can be digitised and look at how this digital fashion can be turned into something physical again. My aim is to explore how physical and online things can be brought together in a new production system.' They also want to explore how images can regain their value in the endless stream of images that consumers see online.

One of Aït Kaci's experiments consists of downscaling as an approach to sustainability. They made miniature clothing during a residency in Lottozero, a textile lab in Prato, the heart of the Italian fashion industry. It should, in theory, be possible to make these small prototypes at their true size upon ordering, though their tiny scale is hard to capture in a photograph. Aït Kaci also worked with a web designer to explore how websites can be designed to minimize their environmental footprint. After all, the digital presentation of fashion consumes energy as well.

For Aït Kaci, textile and pixels are inextricably linked. They clearly see a parallel between the internet and the fashion industry. We see the internet as something that is intangible, whilst it is quite a physical thing with cables, servers, electricity and so on. Fashion is another field where the production process largely remains unseen by the consumer. And where people used to visit physical stores to touch and try on clothes, modern consumers often don't see the product until it arrives in the post. This type of consuming also affects the way clothing is visually presented and even the way it is designed. 'When you wear the product, you actually also wear the image that lies concealed within the clothes.'

All their research into issues like this will be brought together in a book that will also cover media and fashion history. 'I wondered how I could write without making any images. How can I translate my interest in visual culture into a critical perspective? One of the key things that Aït Kaci has learnt this year is that they are starting to feel more like a visual critic, rather than just a designer.

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis

Fatima Oulad Thami

Fatima Oulad Thami works as a neqacha or henna artist under the name Hand of Fatima. Initially working on commission at weddings and workshops, her work grew more expressive. 'I realised I had more stories to tell and that my work had a social relevance.' While professionalising and working on her own project, Restore the narrative (through hennafication), Oulad Thami developed and strengthened a distinct personal signature. With her work, she questions the prevailing Western image of North African women using oriental photographs of 'the Arab world' from the first half of the previous century.

Oulad Thami started as a henna designer and entrepreneur to financially support herself and her son. But her artistic ambitions soon overshadowed her practical intentions. 'The decorative side is just one side of henna. The symbolic and storytelling side is much bigger than that.' Henna was originally used to protect brides from the evil eye, with fertility symbols playing a key role, explains Fatima. 'I now translate fertility into growth, with natural symbols. The palm tree gives us sweet fruit in dry conditions, isn't that wonderful?' Oulad Thami's themes became more narrative, technically challenging and expressive. Though starting later than planned, she achieved her ambition of a home studio. 'Following the Procreate course, I now also produce digital designs. I started working with a coach and professionalised my online presence by emphasising the 'arty side' of my work. I learned to talk differently about my work and acquired a new perspective on my processes. I transformed as a maker and I am really grateful for that.'

Oulad Thami got inspired at the Groeten uit de Oriënt (Greetings from the Orient) exhibition at the Huis van het Boek museum. Here, Oulad Thami came across old oriental photographs of undressed women, presented as sex symbols. 'I found this manipulated image of the North-African and Arab world rather disturbing. Particularly, since there is so much negativity nowadays towards veiled women: so whatever you do, it's wrong. While it should be up to us if we want to be naked or covered up.' Oulad Thami covers the nakedness of these women with henna. She 'restores' the images using symbols that represent femininity and strength. 'The next step is to place a photograph on a bndir, a hand-held drum, over which I then apply the henna. The bndir is predominantly played by women as they sing. The instrument symbolises their voice. This is the statement I want to make as I take my first steps into the art world.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Ike Melchizedek

Ike Melchizedek

Ike Melchizedek is a multidisciplinary designer. Often mixing stories containing cultural ethical elements and fashion, he describes his work as refreshing and contrasting. 'Some parts of the story can be dark, I like to explain the darker side of things, but the message I want to convey is essentially a positive one, as shown by the design. I don't create from a place of pain but from a place of joy. The clothing has a good fit, appealing colours and a feel-good style. I love that kind of twist. My designs are not just shown by the models but also worn by me. I like to express myself in that way, I am not shy.'

The name of the project, collective and brand, The Gang is Beautiful, is also positive with a twist. Melchizedek: 'It refers to getting together with others, to a good vibe. You may associate the word “gang” with criminality but it is also used to describe for example sports team. We have created a nice contrast by pairing this word up with the more elegant word “beautiful”.'

Melchizedek tells us a bit more about the origin and success of The Gang is Beautiful. 'A couple of years ago, two friends and myself created an Instagram and organised dinners, live music, workshops, games etc. These were events where could people meet. We have grown considerably since then. Our community, predominantly in Amsterdam and Berlin, but also in other cities and countries feel connected to our brand's identity.'

The enthusiasm of the self-taught Melchizedek shines through in his talent development and openness to meeting others. 'With the talents of this year, we set up a group app. We got to know each other better by travelling to the Creative Industries Fund NL meetings together. I have visited some of them at their workshops and this is how I discovered that there are so many more disciplines out there that I would like to learn more about. Take the basic skills for shoe making for example.'

He concludes: 'I have learnt so much this last year at courses offered by professionals. But I am always looking for the next challenge. I'd like to investigate what sort of things would help expand my skills set and my vision as founder, designer and creative director of The Gang is Beautiful. I am proud and happy to have been awarded a talent development grant and it motivates me to work even harder.'

Text by Iris Stam
James Noya

James Noya

James Noya (Hatutamelen) is a self-taught craftsman who learned the skill of wood engraving by making tifa's or Moluccan drums. Since he set up the Awareness Moluccan Identity collective with a group of like-minded people in 2018, he has started to further explore Moluccan symbolism and craftsmanship. His talent development application consisted of three parts: revitalising the craft, the reintroduction and reinterpretation of Moluccan symbolism, and discovering the best way to present his work.

His work Salawaku, active protection through compassion was bought by Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam in 2023. With his interpretation of the salawaku, a Moluccan shield that offers physical and spiritual protection, Noya highlights the hidden power and meaning of this object. The symbolism of the wood engraving, inside the shield, is hidden from outsiders and known only to its bearer. As an heir to the Moluccan culture and craft tradition, Noya sees his practice as a continuation of his ancestors' culture. This year he went through old anthropological publications and digitally accessible museum collections to study the symbols and patterns on Moluccan objects. With his work, he wants to bridge the past and present, as well as different cultures and communities. 'By learning about the craft and symbolism, I feel more connected to my ancestors. I can give these objects my own meaning by acquiring a better understanding of the symbolism.'

He attended an intensive woodworking workshop last year where he acquired technical skills and gained a new perspective on his working methods. By approaching the work as a whole and working the wood layer by layer, the material gains an active role in creating the final result. 'The wood tells me what it wants to be, it's a collaboration.' Noya enters into a dialogue with the materials, with the Moluccan community, and with a wider audience. He is currently collaborating with a videographer on a short documentary to highlight the importance of knowing your own culture and its craft tradition. In today's world, people are becoming increasingly estranged from their (material) culture as everything continues to speed up, including the production of things. Noya thinks it is inherent to human nature to want to create things and to give their objects meaning. This is why he wants to show the value of culture, symbolism and craft in this documentary. 'The symbols that I create, the story behind it, it's actually a very universal story that applies wherever you go.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Jazmon Voss

Jazmon Voss

'A total of fifteen looks can represent my complete vision and deserve the investment for a great presentation,' says designer Jazmon Voss. Reining in his ambitions was his greatest challenge this year. 'I had originally planned to create and present six collection pieces. At the moment I've got five, but in my head I have finished no fewer than fifteen. I find it hard to let go of that.' Originally trained as a ballet dancer, Voss is inspired by dance, music, movement, and his Afro-native background. He aims to present his work in a performance-style show rather than a traditional catwalk. Voss has already showcased three pieces from his collection at the Fashion for Good Museum in Amsterdam. 'It was a valuable run-up to my final show, that again confirmed the power of performance for me.'

This year, Voss learned that creating a great collection and presentation requires more than being a skilled designer or performer. 'Everything needs to come together – the right designs, materials and collaborations – to create coherence.' Voss created a lot by hand. 'But the materials and shapes I use can be challenging. For some pieces, such as corsets, it is better to outsource them to specialists.' He loves working with leather and recycled materials. 'I created two looks where I only used existing materials: beads, string, leather, and other residues.' His use of raw materials reflects his Afro-American background and indigenous cultures. To achieve the right mix, Voss conducted research, which fuels his vision. 'I am currently looking at a way to translate my vision into a form that is accessible to a wider audience. I would like to present a collection as an artwork and simultaneously make affordable pieces for a larger audience.'

Voss's vision extends beyond the clothes he makes, to the way he presents them. 'I make fashion but I think and work as an artist and performer. My dance background sets me apart from other designers, and I want to tell my story through a captivating performance.' The show will have a mysterious atmosphere, he reveals. The audience will feel they have arrived in another world. 'It will have some ritual components and my models are from all over the world. I make use of a range of influences, without translating these literally. I enjoy playing with elements of surprise and confusion, such as a Congolese woman in a Japanese kimono.' It is new and quite grand, says Voss. 'Imagine me being able to present fifteen different looks. It's going to be epic!'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Jenny Konrad

Jenny Konrad

Jenny Konrad, like much of society, suffers from sensory overload due to excessive information. Yet bodily we are often understimulated. This realisation followed a severe burnout. Their own neurodivergence has become a driving force in their multisensory practice. 'I now understand how I had become alienated from my body and needs, and I know many people face similar struggles.' Konrad believes that society could greatly benefit from more sensory design.

Rather than adjusting to societal norms, Jenny chose to gently challenge them through their work. 'I discovered who I am partly due to my burnout and diagnosis (autism and ADHD), which now forms the foundation for my artwork.' This led to a shift toward more physical and spatial work. 'Physical work significantly helps in regulating my feelings of sensory overload.' After completing a master's programme in Non-Linear Narrative at The Hague's Royal Academy of Art, Konrad received a grant for their project Sensory potentials within alternative ways of storytelling. 'Sensory perception is crucial in my work. I investigate sensory experiences of people with limitations.' Konrad views limitations as social constructs relative to the norm. 'If you don't meet the standard, your way of being can be deemed disruptive and unsupported. I want to show these societal failures and use a multisensory approach to make information more accessible.' This includes conducting research for a daycare centre for autistic individuals with intellectual impairments. Konrad wants to both shake up society and create practical work. 'I want neurodivergent people to feel heard and seen: nothing about us without us.'

Konrad encourages learning from each other's experiences. 'I'm currently quilting weighted blankets to give non-autistic people an “autistic experience” from a sensory perspective.' Earlier, Konrad created a 'light sensitivity installation' where latex hats represent their own episodes of light sensitivity. Spectators experience Konrad's personal stories through flashing lights, allowing them to understand light sensitivity. The next step is producing multisensory designs on commission. 'This year, I presented at cultural organisations like Mediamatic, Corpo, and Instrument Inventors, and lectured architecture students on sensory design for exhibition venue Beautiful Distress.' Konrad aims to use their experiences and knowledge to contribute to discussions about physical and sensory experiences, ultimately striving to change design norms.

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Jeroen Alexander Meijer

Jeroen Alexander Meijer

According to Jeroen Alexander Meijer, attention is a kind of superpower; an essential resource that we use for all we do in life. But in the current era, with so many media channels and stimuli, the interdisciplinary mindscape artist wonders how we can preserve our attention, what to focus it on, and how long we can sustain that.

'My graduation work at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague consisted of installations that combine light and sound, aimed at researching how stimuli affect our attention. I also wanted to find out how light and sound, when synchronised, can be perceived as a single experience, and then what happens when you pull them apart. It turns out that everyone responds differently to these stimuli, and that our attention is strongly influenced by our environment and personal sensibilities.'

Meijer also discovered his own sensibilities. 'For me, it was often about the importance of establishing contact with your own body. How do you do that? Your body often emits signals that we ignore, particularly in a world where we are constantly surrounded by digital media that mainly appeal to our eyes and ears. This is how I came to the idea of researching which media can help us reconnect with our body.'

Consequently, he developed an art installation that uses a parabolic mirror and an infrared lamp to create the sensation of warmth. 'I wanted to make this an interactive installation, enabling you to steer the sun with your body, as it were.' Meijer sees this project as a way to stimulate people's connection with their body.
Personally, Meijer has learnt that it improves his sense of balance to focus attention on what his body and emotions are telling him. 'This has meant so much for my creativity, my well-being and for how I feel, especially in my relations with other people. People tend to be trapped inside their heads, which can cause tensions in relationships and in society at large. With my work I hope to help others reconnect with their body and to focus their attention on what really matters in their life.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Jesse van den Berg

Jesse van den Berg

'What does my ideal world look like?' Jesse van den Berg used this question as a starting point to explore utopian environments for their new project: places that make you feel so good that you want to stay forever. Van den Berg focuses on photography, audio, installations, and the representation of queer people. 'In my creation process, I want to give love and vulnerability a prominent role. My work is about intimacy and feeling at home in each other's company,' they explain. 'I prefer to stay away from the hard and raw images that I often encountered in articles and documentaries about queer people when I was discovering my own queerness. In recent years, I spent a lot of time working in my studio to explore this.'

Van den Berg graduated in Fine Arts & Design (MA) from the St. Joost School of Art & Design with their ongoing project Reconstructing queer intimacy. This development year allowed Van den Berg to take a major new step: 'Since working in a photography studio has limitations, I wanted to go outside and search for utopian places. My partner is a forest ranger and feels safest and most at home in nature. He also worked as a location scout, which is how we ended up in the Spanish Extremadura region, an area he sees as a truly utopian environment. For me, it also proved to be the perfect landscape for a new photography series.'

The two worked in the region for a week. The place took the photographer back to their childhood: 'This is when I used my parents' camera to start experimenting with photography. Back then, I mostly took pictures of flowers, which I continued to do as a secondary school student. Again in Spain, it was mainly the flower fields that drew my attention. Taking pictures outside has the added advantage of capturing moments of luck that prove to be a real gift to a photographer, such as the play of light and shadows or plant structures that can resemble the human body. It adds more playfulness to my work. I also made a soundscape to accompany the series, using sounds we recorded in Spain to add more context. The series will be shown for the first time at the Pennings Foundation in Eindhoven in the summer of 2024.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Katharina Nejdl

Katharina Nejdl

Have you ever designed something by shaking your head from left to right or making arm gestures in front of your computer screen? Katharina Nejdl writes innovative programs to make things like this possible. She uses creative coding as a design tool, researching its potential and its impact on the design field. She also experiments with new forms of interaction between users and technology. After obtaining a bachelor's degree at the Universität der Kunste in Berlin, Katharina studied for a master's degree at the Sandberg Institute where she graduated in 2022 with the together-online.net project: an interactive online platform where you can co-create a design with others.

'I hope to circumvent the limitations of commercial software by developing my own design tools,' says Nejdl. 'A self-built system with an x number of variables can generate endless surprising results that you couldn't have possibly come up with yourself. Coding allows you to do so much more, both in terms of the output and the role of the designer.' Besides her work as web designer and developer, the grant provided by the Creative Industries Fund NL allowed Katharina to spend more time on research: how can you integrate coding in the design process and how do you design a usable tool?

She started by buying a stack of books. One of these books contained a reference to Joseph A. David's Plaque Découpée Universelle from 1876, a stencil capable of generating every letter of the alphabet. This antique template inspired her to make a digital reinterpretation: GridType.

The program allows you to create custom fonts that defy conventions, offering endless grids and letter combinations. Nejdl: 'This is because of all the different variables you can use, which is what makes it so interesting. And any glitches you may encounter make it even more fascinating. What happens if you start feeding those bugs instead of fixing them?'

The project is still in development, but GridType will eventually become a web-based tool for designers to create and export their own fonts. In the meantime, Nejdl has not lost sight of the connection with the historic Plaque. In the Tetem FabLab in Enschede, she has converted a number of her grids into analogue form using a laser cutter. You can use these plastic templates to work the old-fashioned way with pens or pencils. It emphasises once again that tools, whether they are tangible or not, are also product designs.

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Lamiae El Hajjaji

Lamiae El Hajjaji

As a child, Lamiae El Hajjaji would spend every day drawing or doing some form of artwork. When she was older, she initially chose a secure career by studying to become a teaching assistant. Three years later, El Hajjaji decided to return to the creative field. 'I started studying communication and multimedia design at the University of Applied Sciences in Utrecht, expanded my network, visited exhibitions and became a freelancer. I joined the LFMC art collective in Amsterdam where I completed my graduation project.'

As a visual artist, El Hajjaji currently translates concepts and stories into visual works. She offers services in the areas of animation and branding as well as graphic design and illustration. El Hajjaji has established a name for herself through her commissioned work, but her busy freelance schedule meant less time to spend on creating autonomous works. 'The talent development grant allows me to find out what area I would like to consistently focus on; what is my own story?'

El Hajjaji describes her personal work as nostalgic, multilayeredand positive. 'I find it important to highlight stories rather than emphasise the struggle. The usual questions such as “How hard is it to be a person of colour?” or “How difficult is it to be visibly Muslim?” simply label people. Instead, I want to show how much fun it is to just be who you are.'

This development year, El Hajjaji will work on a deconstructed cartoon and a number of objects, including ceramics and a screen printed and embroidered headscarf. Her multidisciplinary project revolves around the young lady Hia, which is the Arabic word for she/her. Hia wears a hijab, is Moroccan, with roots in the Amazigh, a nomadic tribe in Morocco. 'You follow her story in which she rediscovers herself and learns to connect with all the different aspects of her life.' El Hajjaji was inspired by the concept of ubuntu. According to this African philosophy, people do not exist as isolated individuals but come to be themselves through a network of human relationships. Hajjaji: 'Ubuntu is very close to my Islamic way of life. The Muslim community is as one, we feel each other's pain and are happy when everyone else is happy.' Lamiae concludes: 'So it is all about “I am because we are”. I hope my work alludes to the importance of community instead of individuals. Because you can draw strength from other people. Their stories shape you.'

Text by Iris Stam
Lashaaawn

Lashaaawn

In their artistic practice, Lashaaawn combines the creation of epic fantasy worlds with online and offline drag performance art. 'I write stories about supernatural places and the people who live there. In my “world building” process, I present a vision of a more evolved society that prioritises wellbeing and peace. As a drag performance artist, I bodily express the aesthetics of those worlds, whereby I become a character from one of my stories as it were. It allows me to claim space as a member of the vulnerable minority, to sweep along myself and others in a brighter world, and to show what is possible in our wildest fantasies.'

During the talent development year, Lashaaawn will focus on the production of the digital variety show Ehmeneehm with Lashaaawn. In addition to drag performance art and epic fantasy aesthetics, the show will feature comedy sketches and a talk show with well-known personalities from the Dutch creative and social design field. Lashaaawn: 'Ehmeneehm is colloquial language. In Surinamese culture it is like an extension of the interjection or filler word “umm”. It is a comical reference to a conversation and it sets the tone for the talk show where I blend Dutch-Surinamese culture with parody and in-depth interviews.' It is a place of organised chaos where the charismatic, yet razor sharp Lashaaawn has candid discussions with guests about both casual topics and, more often, about serious personal, political and spiritual matters. 'The title is also a subtle recognition of the fact that Surinamese and other cultures from former or current colonies enrich Dutch culture.'

'This year gives me the space to continue working on both the short and long-term vision of this project without having to worry too much. I also have an overarching vision where I see my practice grow into a digital powerhouse. The multidisciplinary approach provides a unique framework that we don't often see, particularly not in the Netherlands.' They add enthusiastically: 'I want to inspire both myself and others. I also speak up for marginalised groups that I don't belong to directly, and choose to steadfastly avoid any elements of violence in my work. Afrofuturism is a key pillar since it is an intentionally inclusive way of creating. In my practice, I do my utmost to help build the necessary digital infrastructure to promote and strengthen this valuable artistic-cultural and diverse sound.'

Text by Iris Stam
Le Bateau

Le Bateau

A boat has been built at Amsterdam's Sloterplas Lake that defies all unwritten nautical laws. Laëtitia Delauney and Aurélia Noudelmann want to make the traditionally male dominated ship building sector accessible to a much more diverse group of people. Last year, they invited everyone – women and members of the queer community in particular – to join them at workshop Noorderhof to collaborate on De walvis (the whale). Prior experience was not required, this was all about learning by doing. Through monthly workshops offered by a variety of artists, the participants worked on the boat furnishing and equipment: from the richly painted sail to the mosaic-covered ship's table.

De walvis is the second boat built by Delauney and Noudelmann. They built their first one while studying at the Rietveld Academy. They already noticed then how their instructor doubted their technical skills in this area. 'With this project we hope to challenge these kinds of preconceived notions', says Delauney. Delauney and Noudelmann established Le Bateau after graduation and decided to start a larger scale project with an even bigger boat, a more comprehensive side programme, and more participation from local residents and friends. 'This project is not just about building boats but also about building more inclusive communities where we invite people from outside our own bubble,' says Noudelmann. 'In our participative workshops we like to learn and share knowledge with people who wouldn't usually be involved with such projects.'

They see the workshop as a kind of artistic research platform where they can learn in practice how best to deal with sexism and exclusion. This is why they found it so important that the workshops, meetings and building sessions could be offered free of charge. Working with so many amateurs, they managed to build a very special vessel whereby they not only reframed the typical profile of a ship builder, but also the design itself. De walvis is modelled on a whale's skeleton, and is supported by empty beer barrels. The participants played with ideas of form and counter form to make optimal use of materials. The table is made from discarded tiles and old crockery and the sail has been painted with locally picked raspberries that were left over following an on-site brunch.

This year, De walvis can be booked for events that chime with the goals of Le Bateau. Next year, Delauney and Noudelmann will sail the boat from Amsterdam to the Canal du Midi in Southern France, making stops along the way to show their boat and spread their message.

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Lena Winterink

Lena Winterink

Five years ago, Lena Winterink graduated cum laude from the Design Academy Eindhoven with two projects that personalise the fabrics that we wear. At their request, she turned people's souvenirs into personal patterns that can be worn close to the skin. She also integrated copper into cotton garments which, depending on use, results in a unique oxidation pattern.

These patterns continue to be an important feature of her work. Winterink translates social patterns into textile designs and also carries out research for various clients, looking at the lifecycle of textiles, from their origin to the production and use. During her development year, she further explored the manufacturing side. She joined a textile network, made new contacts in the industry and, with the support of two experienced weavers, started to experiment on her own loom. These efforts resulted in a new sample archive with innovative weaves for future projects.

The talent development grant also gave her the necessary space to reflect on her position as a designer. Developing a new website fitted in nicely with this. She is currently looking at the possibility of a follow-up to the project Made in: a cloak she designed for the Amsterdam Tropenmuseum (now: Wereldmuseum) consisting of 1300 labels cut from discarded garments. 'These labels are waste products of a waste product, which need to be removed for recycling,' says Winterink. 'In this way, a piece of textile loses part of its history.' Made in makes a statement about the global origin of the clothing we wear and revalues the local context. Winterink: 'I think it's fascinating how people assign such very different values to textiles. In one place textiles are discarded, whereas somewhere else the same textiles might be put in a museum.'

In the meantime, Winterink's networking and positioning efforts have also started to pay off. Winterink has been selected for two new projects in Rotterdam. She will analyse the work processes of textile sorting company Opnieuw Goed for the Versatile Academy: how can she, as a designer, contribute to the sourcing, sorting and reusing of secondhand textiles? She will also be researching the traditional Afro-Surinamese headscarf for Tailors and Wearers, the socalled angisa. How can we preserve and at the same time make these special cultural items more accessible for others? 'These questions tie in very well with the kind of design practice I'd like to have.'

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Lukas Engelhardt

Lukas Engelhardt

Graphic designer Lukas Engelhardt is interested in autonomous infrastructures of both digital and non-digital nature. It could be a computer that hosts his work files or the studio that provides the conditions to develop his practice. Engelhardt seeks to understand and manipulate these mechanisms. 'It can be very powerful to understand how these things work and to be able to do it yourself.' Accordingly, he builds servers, uses an open source alternative to Dropbox, and self-hosts his new website. He is also eager to enable collectivism and activism by creating places that facilitate collaboration and friendships. 'Collaboration is really the key thing for me.'

Engelhardt can't help but wonder: why does a server look the way it does? It doesn't need to be that way. The way it works, how it feels, but also the way we talk about it. These are all choices. Engelhardt wants to reveal that random aspect by approaching the object as a sculpture, for instance by painting it or by exhibiting it in a gallery. As a result, the public starts to relate to it differently. 'As a designer I have always been interested in how you can communicate things.' Another fascinating phenomenon: desktop backgrounds, showing wonderful natural scenes. On the one hand there's the metaphor of it being your desktop, while on the other hand it's an inaccessible kind of space. It is also quite striking how many words we use from the analogue world to refer to things in digital space, such as files, folders, save, icon, window… These shifting meanings also fascinate Engelhardt. 'It's many different things, but there is a common theme. It's all about the aesthetics of autonomy.'

Engelhardt cherishes the autonomy provided to him to arrange this year however he wishes. He will concentrate on practical matters to support the development of his practice, such as a course in miniature painting, travelling to visit collectives, having conversations with inspiring example figures in his discipline, and arranging business coaching for him and his studio partner. His feeling is that everything is now materialising in his practice. 'It gives me lots of energy and lots of other things besides. It's nice to receive public feedback once in a while, to see that people seem happy with the things I'm involved with.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Maciej Wieczorkowski

Maciej Wieczorkowski

Technological developments have made our lives a lot more comfortable in the past few decades. Running water and mechanical ventilation, once upon a time only available to those wealthy enough to afford it, are now standard in any average home. The downside is that we experience fewer shared moments nowadays. And what about sustainability?

Architect Maciej Wieczorkowski decided to explore these issues further. 'A fireplace used to be the focal point of the home and formed the backbone of family life. The fireplace is where people came together for warmth, cooking food, drying clothes and sleeping and as such it established a kind of hierarchy in the home. On an urban scale, wells and granaries served as meeting places and a central point for the community. For many cultures, these infrastructural objects were important enough to become a place of religious worship. But such resources no longer have a collective meaning in our modern culture. This shift not only affects society, but also has an impact on architectonic design. Where we used to have beautifully designed objects that were used daily and were created through collaboration between architects and craftsmen, we now have items that are produced on an industrial scale with the involvement of anonymous engineers and climate advisers. These technical installations subsequently require intensive maintenance and frequent replacement and this is expensive and not really sustainable. At the same time, these installations contribute nothing to the aesthetic, architectonic or cultural dimension of the building. Wieczorkowski finds this concerning. 'Should we reconsider our collective relationship with resources?', he wonders.

Wieczorkowski visited communities in Barcelona and Berlin that are still organised around the sharing of resources. He also researched various types of objects that are related to collective resources in the past. 'Currently, I am looking at ways to translate this formal research into a design language. But I also see the entire project as a theoretical, practical and personal knowledge base for my practice. I am convinced that these experiences will be valuable for various ongoing projects, such as the Gemene grond project that I am collaborating on with the municipality of Roermond. They also serve as an inspiration for teaching in a design studio at the Rotterdam Academy of Architecture and various future projects.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Maria Fraaije

Maria Fraaije

This year, Maria Fraaije learned how to 'crawl out of her head'. 'Now I draw worlds to get lost in, rather than worlds with which to confront others.' Previously, the illustrator created projects of a social nature. For DRIFT (Dutch Research Institute for Transitions) she researched societal themes, and initially wanted to weave together the worlds of illustration and research. But that ambition changed over the course of the year. 'I discovered that this wasn't really what I was looking for. Much of my original plan went out the window.'

Fraaije no longer feels the need to stimulate reflection, debate or change through her drawings. Most of all, she wants the viewer of her work to feel touched. 'My drawings are still about themes that mean a lot to me, but in a more gentle manner and with more room for nuance. It's an approach that suits me better. I feel less compelled to explain things.' It changed her process and has made her drawings more poetical. 'I always associated research with rationality. With thinking and understanding. Thanks to this year, I know that I prefer to do artistic research, which can be irrational and explorative. I always felt that I needed to be assertive, activistic and socially engaged in my illustrations, but through the development of my practice I realised that I like to create softer images, through a simple and open research process.' To illustrate: she used to draw mostly indoors, but now she likes to take a stool and sketchbook out into the world to draw what she sees there. 'Later, in the studio, I create illustrations of a spot based on memory. Through this approach, I not only record the facts but also my own truth. The world that emerges in that way is usually more gentle and elusive. I think I also started working more with watercolour and charcoal for that reason, they are more imprecise and harder to pin down.'

Fraaije did a residency in Scotland, where she discovered the kind of work that emerges when she spends all day long drawing outside, in nature. The course she followed at the Royal Drawing School also helped. 'How the instructors and artists talked about their work – explorative, open and curious – was inspiring.' Just like her drawings, Fraaije's own view of her work became softer. 'I discovered this year that one drawing can feel more sincere than another. And that ugly drawings don't really exist.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
md-2 architects

md-2 architects

As architects based in Rotterdam, Michał Długajczyk and Mahaut Dael of md-2 architects concentrate daily on renovation and transformation projects. 'We study the stories, history and identity of the city, which are aspects often ignored in architecture. And we ask critical questions about the continual demolishment and disappearance of valuable parts of the city.'

Inspired by surrealism, the pair apply their Description by Design methodology to examine themes such as identity, sustainability and flexibility. 'In this development year we are combining research, practice and communication. One goal was to translate our study of surrealistic methods and specifically of the work by the Czech artist Jiří Kolář into techniques for the reuse of scrap materials. We find Jiří Kolář's work inspiring as it offers us creative solutions for contemporary challenges in architecture and renovation. This year we travelled to Prague to examine his work from up close. This yielded lots of new knowledge, insights and contacts, including with institutions that offer the opportunity to exhibit our work abroad. We experimented with surrealist collage techniques for architectonic designs at the Rotterdam Academy of Architecture and Urban Design. We applied these techniques to the Citroen auction hall, a building in Rotterdam. We also visited Rotterdam's ECNI cement factory to learn more about material properties and recycling processes.'

They accumulated even more knowledge by following a course in exhibition design, and they presented their research into surrealistic collage techniques and their experiments with scrap materials sourced from transformation projects in Rotterdam's Oude Noorden district. They also tested disassembly, recomposition and consolidation techniques, and translated their research into mock-ups. They are furthermore renovating a house in Italy, applying new techniques to reuse old roof tiles.

'By acquiring knowledge about materials and construction techniques, we are better able to connect with more advanced project phases and to play a bigger role at the construction site. This development year allows us to further explore our work and to learn how to present our work. This way we can position our work in the field more effectively, make it relevant for contemporary issues, and grow our network. We intend to produce another series of mock-ups and to apply these at actual construction sites. We will also further test surrealistic techniques and specify how these can be translated to contemporary architecture.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Michelangelo Winklaar

Michelangelo Winklaar

The exhibition Kijken met je handen (looking with your hands), held at Escher in the Palace Museum in The Hague in autumn 2021, introduced a groundbreaking approach to museum fashion exhibitions. Inspired by his visually impaired mother, Michelangelo Winklaar developed an haute couture collection that visitors are allowed to touch. With the target group of blind and visually impaired visitors as starting point, this exhibition appealed to a much more diverse audience. After all, who does have the temptation to touch those special silhouettes, textures and fabrics? Through his inclusive approach to fashion exhibitions, Winklaar resolutely breaks with the usual 'do not touch' instructions. Here, touching is permitted, which is an enriching experience for many.

At the exhibition, visitors could experience the sensation of a heavy, rough sequin fabric that feels like scaly skin, as well as the lightness of layers of tulle, fine flowery embroideries or the angular shoulder pads of an 80s blazer. Winklaar designed a series of special display cases inspired by incubators, with holes to put your hands through. This sparked his interest, leading him to apply for a grant from the Creative Industries Fund NL to explore the durability and design of tactile textiles. How can fabric withstand constant touch without wearing out, getting dirty, or fading? And how can the experience be made even more engaging for a diverse audience?

Winklaar aims to revive haute couture by using this new, inclusive approach. This year, he is focusing on professionalizing his practice, culminating in the second exhibition: Kijken met je handen 2.0. In The Hague, he dived into the Kunstmuseum's fashion archives to discover which textile techniques endure best over time. In France, he refined his embroidery skills to produce less fragile embroideries. And he searched for special audio clips at the Netherlands Institute for Sound & Vision to further enhance the sensory stimulation.

He also talked to curators and designers about the exhibition design. 'There is so much to think about when organising an exhibition. I am trying to learn as much as I can about all the various aspects. Additionally, I like to reflect on my way of working. When you're creative, your mind is constantly active. I learnt that it is important to switch off now and again.' He can't afford to switch off for too long though: the pre-launch of the first pieces is scheduled in early October at the Lange Voorhout in The Hague.

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Michèle Boulogne

Michèle Boulogne

What do artisanal textiles, space, and colonial issues have in common? These seemingly different themes converge in the projects of textile designer and visual artist Michèle Boulogne. This year, she aims to clarify the connections between her projects. 'I want to get a grip on who I'd like to be in this world and for my community. To this end, I combine my tools, textiles, and my subject, space.' Her fascination began in her youth in Martinique. 'As long as people exist, there will be atextiles. The same applies to cosmology. They are both deep-rooted human preoccupations. In the US, I studied textiles within a universal context and learned about the connection between textiles, cartography, and the representation of the sky.'

Growing up on the island with its French colonial history, Boulogne loved nature and the night sky. 'But there was another side to life on the island: of tension and deep-rooted problems related to the colonial history.' Boulogne sees similar contrasts in space. 'It is the ultimate place for wonder as well as for geopolitical issues.' Here, her knowledge and art intersect. 'I feel that I have something to contribute to the debate about voyages of discovery, particularly given today's talk about colonising space. I find that notion and the rhetoric around it very shocking. Given recent focus on colonization's negative impacts, I don't understand why we're discussing this in the same terms.'

Boulogne will conclude her development year with a research project on Caribbean basket weaving techniques, collaborating with anthropologists. 'I want to learn everything about the basics of this skill, using only fibres and your hands.' Simultaneously, she will study satellite images of the island to understand how its resources have been used. This is how Boulogne intertwines her subjects. Acceptance and finding the right balance have been her biggest challenges. 'I am constantly switching between research, working with textiles, and collaborating with others. It can be difficult to achieve the right balance.'

In October, Boulogne will present a series of graphic prints about the human relationship with extraterrestrial resources and a publication on traditional Caribbean basket weaving concerning territorial awareness. She is also preparing a paper for Milan: Caribbean arc and outer space, an academic and visual reflection on exploration. 'For the first time, there will be a colonial panel,' says Boulogne. 'Things are happening with regard to this topic, people from the community want to come together. I have been able to focus on that this year. This is too big an issue to ignore.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Michiel Terpelle

Michiel Terpelle

Finding communities was one of the key aims for graphic designer Michiel Terpelle (he/they) this year. Particularly queer communities: places where he feels at home and can collaborate without compromise. 'The basic premise of my practice is that queerness is not so much a way of doing or a kind of layer over the design practice as a neutral entity, but more a way of being that questions and explores the politicisation of queer people in relation to heteronormativity and compulsory heterosexuality.' Terpelle approached various people and initiatives for mentorship, including the Belgian collective Bebe Books. First invited as a resident, he is now a member of the group.

Covid hit shortly after Terpelle graduated from the ArtEZ University of the Arts with a master's degree in typography in 2020. Structures were lacking, collaboration was difficult and there were no facilities available. It feels for him as if his practice is starting to take off only now. One of the projects he has worked on recently has been the development of his drag character Jizz Taco. 'I am active in the drag scene and you can see elements of this culture in my design practice. Elements such as performance and identity but also the platforms provided by clubs, streets and galleries, where I question and explore themes such as gender, sexuality and class.'
Terpelle increasingly aims for a more independent relationship between client and designer. In this hierarchical structure, marginalised people are often expected to adjust to interests that do not serve them. That is why he is increasingly rebelling against heteronormative design practices. 'I don't want to explain queerness “on condition that…” – for instance on condition that heterosexuals can understand it in their language or within their own frame of reference, or on condition that it doesn't offend them or create feelings of guilt, or on condition that it won't cost them anything.'

All the experiences of the past year will be archived. Besides a digital archive, the archive itself will also be an event. A performance, almost like a kind of liturgy, to celebrate collaborations and results. Incidentally, Terpelle also discovered a community at the Creative Industries Fund NL: 'I think talent development is a great way to support people and give them a push in the right direction. You not only receive financial support, but you also get a large group of people who are all at the start of their careers.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Milenco Dol

Milenco Dol

A series of black-and-white photographs show a portrait of a young man, with each photo becoming progressively darker. On the last photo the subject is barely distinguishable from his surroundings. With this four-piece series of self-portraits, Minco visualises a personal experience. 'This project emerged from a longing to disappear, to dissolve into silence.' The gradual disappearance of the portrayed subject is achieved by gradually shortening the shutter speed on an analogue camera.

Dol wanted to devote this year to making a series of portraits of people just starting out on the job market, and to learning how to work with an analogue camera. From the period following his own graduation, he remembers the sense of having no direction once the structure imposed by the study fell away. 'The feeling I got was: if I don't do anything, then nothing will happen anymore.' However, while working on his project he realised that the portraits were not telling the story he had envisioned. Working with a medium-format analogue camera also required a different approach. 'You can't shoot a thousand pictures and then select a couple later. The picture I take just has to be right.' He decided to stop working according to a predetermined concept and to simply start taking photographs instead. 'It's nice to have the room to just experiment. With an analogue camera, you do look through the viewer but what you're looking at is just a mirror reflecting what you see in front of you. A beautiful image is what is already beautiful when you simply look at it with your own eyes.'

This resulted in an approach where Dol separates the process of making photographs from the editing of a series. He has also learned to develop film and to make analogue prints. Thanks to these experiences and his conversations with various mentors, he has gained a broader perspective on photography. 'When I make a series, it's not just about what I want to say, but also about what another person can see in it.' For Dol, photography is a means to make things visible, but also a way for him to disappear (behind the lens). He tries to capture this ambiguity by letting images tell a story together. The time-consuming and artisan process of analogue photography means a lot to him. 'The time you invest in creating a single image increases its value. You start with nothing and it can become much more. As soon as you pick up an analogue camera, you're engaging with the world itself.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Niels de Bakker

Niels de Bakker

From Sonology at the Conservatoire to a master's degree in Art Science and a Tech Fellowship at the Royal Academy of Visual Arts: artist Niels de Bakker blends his knowledge in installations that he plays like instruments. This is his way of getting a grip on materials and processes. The tools that he needs are so specific that he makes them himself. 'I have to keep learning so that my work can evolve.' Visiting lectures, he often seeks advice from experts in electronics and mechanics. His efforts are paying off with increasingly improved experiments and faster results, just as he aimed for this year. 'I want to professionalise my practice by expanding my technical skills. For my installation machines, I continue to build further on my existing knowledge.' Because with new knowledge, come new questions.

When De Bakker was completing his application, he thought he would like to do something with optics, lenses and light. However, his plans gradually started to change. 'I built an ecosystem of small computers and electronics that enables me to build new and improved installations more quickly.' Those installations are the result of a deep dive into his personal fascination and of thorough, complex and experimental research. 'For my latest installation I dissolve pigment in a special silicone oil. The colour of the pigments changes as a result of their temperature. De Bakker shows how this process works using an LED screen for which he makes images based on the heat of the pigments: the image continuously changes because of cooling and heating. Complicated? Yes indeed. He also didn't understand it at first, but then that's his biggest drive. 'Something fascinates me precisely because I don't understand how it works. The technical journey I must undertake to gain a better understanding is what I find interesting.'

Understanding and controlling seemingly magical yet natural phenomena is his goal. 'As an inventor, I make my own equipment so that I can control it. I now do the same with magnetic pigments whereby a magnetic field causes colours to change.' By understanding how something works, De Bakker learns how to control and model results. He does so based on compositions. 'Somewhere between building the electronics and writing the compositions, the final work appears.' Everything has been carefully thought out. Still, most discoveries happen by chance. 'I look for coincidences, to be honest. Unexpected results are always the best ones.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Peter Peels

Peter Peels

Self-taught interdisciplinary maker Peter Peels of 4DMagnetics was selected during the Scout Night in Eindhoven. His work can take on various forms, from analogue to digital illustrations, 3D design, animations and music. Using the Talent Development grant, 4DMagnetics wants to develop a video game about a Moluccan warrior on a fictitious, precolonial Moluccan island. In light of this project, Peels wants to pool his creativity with technical skills, immerse himself in his Moluccan background and record the stories of his ancestors. He wants to achieve this by taking game development courses as well as an Indonesian language course. 4DMagnetics will work with the Moluccan community and Het Moluks Museum.
Quiana Cronie

Quiana Cronie

Quiana Cronie was born in Curaçao and grew up in Aruba. When she was nineteen, she moved to the Netherlands for her studies at the Design Academy in Eindhoven. Today, Cronie has returned to the island where she grew up. As an Aruban designer, she aims to preserve the island's culture for future generations, through creating sustainable fashion and by visual storytelling. She also researches Aruban traditional dress, which has been influenced by various cultures as a result of colonisation and trade. She enthusiastically explains: 'Aruba has a rich oral tradition and limited written sources. I want to reveal, share and highlight our stories, such as the origin of the Aruban saying come harinja, bisti bari, which means “eat the flour and wear the bag”. It refers to the straight cut work shirts that the hard working women, farmers and fishermen used to make around the year 1800 from empty flour bags, which were strong and breathable. The reuse of this strong material turned the cashaca into a sustainable garment. I hope to revive this innovative tradition with my current project Cashaca. Inspired by the working methods of the past, I produce an upcycled version, made from cotton tablecloths sourced from the local hotel industry. This also refers to present-day Aruba which isn't very sustainable yet, and where the main income source is tourism. Both souvenirs and fashion are mostly mass-produced outside of Aruba. By reviving the cashaca, I want to focus on the islanders' heritage, identity and sense of community. At the same time, the cashaca is a way to tell the untold stories from Aruba via sustainable clothing, meant for everyone. Carrying the culture of Aruba, that is what you do when you wear this shirt.'

Cronie is currently focusing on further improving her sewing skills and visual aesthetics using new media such as 3D fashion and Cinema4D. 'I hope to also appeal to a younger target group by injecting a sense of freshness and innovation into this project.' She also aims to organise a series of popup exhibitions in collaboration with shops in both Aruba and Europe to show her developing work and to get feedback from the community. 'This is an exciting and significant phase. I can fully devote myself to my passion, focus on experimentation, reflection and growth, and start building the foundation for my practice as an independent designer. I am very grateful for that!'

Text by Iris Stam
Ro Buur

Ro Buur

Ro Buur is a graduate of the HKU University of the Arts in Utrecht and the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam, and active in the areas of film, photography, sculpture (ceramics), illustration and typography. Their work is inspired by a strong need to explore and reflect on certain themes within their day-to-day life. 'My projects tell stories that otherwise remain invisible in our society. I draw a lot of inspiration from the queer community where people encourage me to grow and stay true to myself. My ideas also come from nature, the Dutch landscape and the water that flows through it. The diversity of nature reassures me. There are plants and animals that have both male and female characteristics, non-binary animal species, and some animals engage in homosexual behaviour. This shows that it is natural to be who I am.'

Buur talks about their current multimedia project (working title: Queerdo's), which will culminate in a film upon completion of the talent development year. 'The main character is Birdie, a queer and trans person who suffers from a negative self-image and sees themselves as a monster. Four (imaginary) friends spend some time in nature with Birdie for a ritual that ensures that Birdie can let go of their anxieties and negative thoughts. I based Birdie on a water monster from a scary Dutch folk story that is intended to make sure that children stay away from water. In this project I draw a parallel with how a part of society, that is increasingly adopting normative and binary views, sees queers and trans people.'

Buur used the grant for research, writing and developing the script, whereby they combined research with magical thinking. 'I experimented with various media to tell a narrative, and developed a real passion for clay. It unleashed my imagination, with the characters coming to life while modelling the clay, which I then converted into illustrations and text. I am about to start using the ceramic sculptures as the basis for moulds to make rubber masks, to be worn by the characters in the film. The sculptures will also become part of an installation that I will show at the end of this development year.'

Text by Iris Stam
Rosalie Apituley

Rosalie Apituley

Rosalie Apituley is a graduate of ArtEZ University for the Arts in Arnhem (2022), and in her artistic design practice she focuses on product design, critical design, social design and interaction design. She first explored the theme of energy consumption in her Uit de meterkast project. Apituley: 'My work is socially critical and carefully thought through, but the playfulness and humour makes it accessible to a wider audience. With this project, I wanted to redesign the daily interactions with energy to emphasise that energy isn't something that just comes out of the wall.' Her interest in the theme was sparked by a memory from her childhood. 'Whenever I left a light on, I was told: “Think of the polar bears”. As a novice designer, I started to wonder: why don't I understand how energy works when I am so dependent on it? I wanted to find out what the relationship was between those small acts performed around the house, such as the switching on and off of light switches, and the larger scenario of climate change. How do you, as an individual, have an impact on this?'

Meanwhile, Apituley is increasingly starting to position herself as a designer who focuses on energy awareness. 'I am inspired by questions such as: what motivates people? We can have a real impact on climate change through our actions. The way we design our technology and infrastructure has an influence on our relationship with nature. With my projects I aim to make energy consumption tangible and visible, because it is by understanding something through physical experience that one is motivated to act.'

This year, Apituley will continue to work on her project named It giet oan (meaning it's going to happen in Frisian) which asks if it is possible to adapt our culture to solar and wind energy, with its inherent dynamic rhythms. During Dutch Design Week 2023 she built a so-called koek-en-zopie stall (refreshments associated with ice skating) together with network operator Alliander, where five solar panels supplied power for an ice cream machine. Apituley handed out ice creams whenever the sun was shining but when it was cloudy the machine would stop working. 'I am currently looking at the possibility of running an ice rink in summer that will be powered by solar energy. With this project, I explore how we can adapt our culture and economy to the seasons, with seasonal energy. I am also working on a festival that will be held on the ice rink grounds, with lectures, workshops, a small art exhibition and games around the theme of energy consumption. Together with the audience, I want to find out if we can have collective celebrations when there is an abundance of power, such as when the sun is shining in summer.'

Text by Iris Stam
Samuel Rynearson

Samuel Rynearson

Samuel Rynearson likes objects whose purpose may not be immediately obvious. Examples are fountains, teapots and bird houses in all sorts of shapes and sizes that are not immediately recognisable as such due to their special design. The designer is particularly interested in how these objects influence our habitat and vice versa. Although he mainly works with digital media, his fascination for physical objects has grown over the years. What is more: 'Even though I can still be amazed by digital objects, I am particularly fascinated by the feel, the tangibility and the unsettling aspect of physical objects. I am increasingly aware that it's important for my mental health and quality of life that I start to move away from making digital art only. This is why I'm looking for a new approach where I can combine digital and physical objects' He likes to emphasise the strange or disconcerting aspects of an object. 'This makes you feel that you can't stop looking and this is something I like to encourage. I'd also like the viewer to wonder why it looks that way as well as how it is made.'

During his development year, Rynearson focused on the design and production of bird houses that can now be seen in gardens throughout The Hague. He wanted to create a certain tension between the houses and their surroundings. To achieve this, he collaborated with the designer Jonathan Looman and others. 'After various consultations, we designed objects and explored how to make bird houses that are suitable for their environment and the living creatures that live there.'

The designs, which are far from traditional and have some futuristic elements, as well as the choice of materials and the production process were all part of his research. It is no big deal to print a digital design in plastic but what about ceramic or metal? The designer responded to this challenge with lots of research, experimentation and creating an archive for material use and production processes. This gave him a taste for more: 'I hope to evolve into a designer who does not just create digital art but can also insert and link the digital with the physical (and vice versa) to suggest new connections with our surroundings.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Sandipan Nath

Sandipan Nath

Sandipan Nath is interested in the rapidly growing world of artificial intelligence and machine learning, and how the digital world is increasingly coming under the influence of these technologies. Five years ago he started creating art works that use machine learning and deep learning, and algorithms have since become an important part of his work. 'These technologies influence my creativity, as do government interests and commercial interests. I am worried about the consequences of this computational condition for the physical world.'

In the post-internet era, digital imagery became so abundant that networks and platforms were flooded by media content. In the current post-algorithm era, algorithms play an essential role in interpreting and understanding these images. Image recognition has evolved from the simple identification of lines and edges to recognising complex patterns and even predicting future images. The focus has shifted from user-made content to machine-generated content, which is being produced faster than ever before. 'I am fascinated by these machine-readable media that record the interactions between algorithmic systems and the natural world.'

'In the past year I have accumulated a collection of images, videos and gestural data which are used to train a UR3 robotic arm to perform complex tasks, such as picking up apples. This machine-generated content has strong aesthetical qualities, which form the basis of my creative work in which I aim to create poetic compositions using algorithmic processes.'

Nath has furthermore developed as a composer with a focus on new music that develops organically. 'I approach sound design from an algorithmic perspective and have learnt much about the unpredictable nature of both classic and quantum algorithms. This has added depth to my research into uncertainty and probability, which are central themes in both classical and quantum systems.'

In his current work, Nath is investigating the aesthetical conditions for a post-algorithmic era and how this will influence culture. 'I am working with researchers, artists and academics to understand how modern algorithms influence our social interaction, ecological goals and knowledge production. Although my research is of a theoretical nature, my approach is experimental and intuitive. My goal is to connect artistic with scientific knowledge and to create results that are not bound to any particular place or time. It will be something that evolves over the course of time, or can exist in multiple forms at the same time.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Sébastien Robert

Sébastien Robert

After projects in Cambodia, Chile and Norway where he researched disappearing indigenous music, cultures and cosmologies, this time Sébastien Robert engaged with a project closer to home. His interest in the bagpipes originated in his youth in Brittany, and the low sonorous sound of the instrument continues to evoke feelings and memories. His interest grew when he discovered that the instrument originated in the Middle East and was then spread across Europe by the Romans. With variations found in France, Italy, Greece, Ukraine and Great Britain, according to Robert it can be viewed as the most European instrument, connecting cultures, generations and social classes. 'People tend to see traditions and cultures as national and static entities, which don't change much. But my approach in this project is transnational, trans-European, even trans-Mediterranean.'

Whereas in previous projects he performed field research to investigate and record disappearing music, this time he started with an archive, specifically the collection owned by Marseille's Museum of the Civilisations of Europe and the Mediterranean. 'It feels odd to me that these instruments are there, sleeping in their cases. It's nice to archive things, but it can also be the death of an instrument.' During a residency in Marseille, he had exchanges with art historians, organologists, traditional and contemporary instrument builders, and musicians. Using a 3D scanner owned by the Paris Philharmonic Hall, he scanned five bagpipes from the collection, specifically focussing on the bourdons that produce a constant tone. Back in the Netherlands he worked with Luuk Meints (for 3D modelling and printing), instrument builder Léo Maurel and multimedia artist Benjamin Maus to construct an audio installation using three of the 3D printed copies, which brings together the various European bagpipes. Robert was also assisted by Marie-Barbara Le Gonidec, an ethno-musicologist who helped him to combine his artistic vision with a scientific approach.

Last year's developments culminated this summer in a presentation in The Hague's Grey Space in the Middle, where he can explore the possibilities of his installation. 'This year was all about testing and exploring the idea. I expect that this will give me a fairly clear picture of what I want to do exactly.' Looking ahead, Robert hopes to take his work back to the regions where the instruments originally came from, and to the people who make these instruments. 'In a certain sense I am helping the tradition forward with the use of technology.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Shanella Bleecke

Shanella Bleecke

Shanella Bleecke graduated in 2021 as an audiovisual specialist from the Amsterdam Media College. She has worked in the cultural sector as a programmer, curator, host and film maker and has also been active in journalism and politics. Bleecke provides a platform for previously unheard stories. As a multidisciplinary talent, she acts as an observer and voice for a young generation that is fighting for a more fair, equitable and inclusive world. 'My storytelling is based on telling presentday stories using the knowledge and events from the past. I explore the parallels, continuities and changes in social, political and cultural aspects. In my audiovisual work I can literally and metaphorically splice together the past and the present, enabling me to reflect upon the modern-day context and to substantiate my perspective.'

The production of the documentary Rutu is Bleecke's top priority this year. 'Rutu is the Surinamese word for roots. My grandmother never told me much about her life in Suriname. When she came to the Netherlands, she spent all her energy on raising her children and building a new life. But as the years went by, I noticed how the concept of identity started to become more important to me and this is what prompted me to travel to Suriname in 2023. Family as well as my grandmother's friends from the past told me how my grandmother had always been both a caring and very confident woman. The realisation that I share the strength of these Surinamese women really touched me and is what inspired me to make this documentary. During my next visit, further research revealed that the very foundation of Suriname is built upon the strength of exceptionally strong women. Rutu starts with one of these historically important women, named Maria Vlier. She was born as an enslaved person, but grew up to write the first history textbook about her country from a Surinamese perspective. Learning about Maria felt so magical!'

Concept development, research, interviews with camera, the production of a documentary: for Bleecke, the project and the process are a way to further develop as a multidisciplinary maker. 'I think the strength lies in remaining curious and to want to be able and willing to do everything. I am currently working on the further development of my documentary plan. Once I have finished, I want to present the plan in the form of an exhibition. It's great that I now have the freedom to focus on all these different aspects.'

Text by Iris Stam
Sjoerd Willem Bosch

Sjoerd Willem Bosch

In the past year, Sjoerd Willem Bosch has explored the Groningen and Terschelling landscape as a 'listening architect'. During his walks, he listens to the landscape and its inhabitants by drawing and talking to people and learns about the relationship between day-to-day life and major rural issues. This year, Bosch hopes to develop the research aspects of his practice during the 'professional experience period' which is mandatory for architects. Following his bachelor and master in architecture at the Delft University of Technology, he wanted to learn non-typical design skills such as interviewing, writing, photography and making maps. In 2022, he developed his graduation project Hedendaags Ommelanderhuis; a political centre for the rural region around Groningen where he was born. He explored how architecture can facilitate a dialogue about the landscape through walks and conversations.

He continued this way of working, which involves recording experiences and observations in drawings, stories and photgraphs, this year in Groningen. For his research, he chose a family story about the 'black path' of his great grandmother who lived on a farm in Ellerhuizen more than a century ago. This was actually a church path that went straight across the fields to the nearby village of Bedum but has disappeared since then due to reparcelling. During his walks, Bosch sees how these and other changes occur in the landscape. Housing, infrastructure, utilities as well as earthquakes, subsidence and salination all leave their mark 'A personal exploration can address general rural issues. I see this as an alternative way for a designer to approach a landscape.'

Bosch involves others such as theatre producer Sijas de Groot, photographer Rubén Dario Kleimeer and architect Rien Korteknie to broaden his perspective even more. He also collaborates with archeologists and students from the University of Amsterdam on an inventory of drowned villages and vanished buildings on Terschelling. Together with archeologist Heleen van Londen, he is organising an exhibition for the Oerol festival where visitors can learn more about the stories extracted from the soil. The Doorgronding installation links the small scale archeological finds to the landscape and the bigger picture of the Wadden Region.

These experiences have broadened his perspective: 'Now I think more freely about who I can be as an architect and how I can use this to address major issues such as sustainability, inequality or how people interact with places.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Studio-Method

Studio-Method

How can we change our relationship with materials? That's what Pedro Daniel Pantaleone and Riel Bessai explore in their design practice Studio-Method. They aim to tackle scarcity by focusing on sustainable innovation and reusing materials. The result consists of architectonic interventions, spatial installations and theoretical explorations. Studio-Method focuses not only on buildings but also on their added value for people, says Pantaleone. 'We want to understand how to improve the reuse of materials, by approaching it as a cultural rather than a technical issue.'

Studio-Method responds to human needs. This makes the projects more complex but also more fun, according to Pantaleone. 'We can now build from scratch, with our own studio and client, and we also need to handle planning, permissions, and regulations.' Studio-Method was commissioned to build a pavilion from residual materials in Drenthe. This project provided an opportunity for Pantaleone to put the practical skills he learnt this year into practice. 'It had been my particular aim to improve my manual skills.' He attended a course in welding, an important skill for working with residual materials. The ability to join metals together gives us many new options.'

The highlight of their year is taking place in October 2024 in Fredriksoord, Drenthe. This is where Studio-Method built a pavilion with a reading room, in the middle of the woods, as part of the heritage restoration project De proef. The location and the building are part of the 19th century Koloniën van Weldadigheid or Colonies of Charity (UNESCO World Heritage Site) and Museum De Proefkolonie. The building has a direct connection to the estate, as all materials, including wool from on-site sheep, are sourced from the site itself. 'The pavilion functions as an interspace between the existing building and the garden where you can experience an introspective moment in nature.' The flexible construction, using prefabricated drywall which is easy to disassemble and reuse, may remain on site for five to ten years.

The development year exceeded all expectations, says Pantaleone. They not only improved their practical skills but also gained a better understanding of professional practice, including license applications and artistic experiments. 'It is not just about design, vision and implementation but also about networking, support and financial resources. Art and architecture are strongly associated with social and political issues. I now know how important it is to link projects to the city, from a social point of view but also with respect to laws and regulations. I learnt things I would never have picked up from a book.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Sun Lee

Sun Lee

As a Korean designer working in the Netherlands, Sun Lee always feels halfway between preserving her identity and adapting to a new environment. 'This is why I deeply connect with the philosophy embodied in craft history. I see it as a collection of cultures that has been accumulated in specific regions and times.' For her, crafts are a living heritage; not the remains from times gone by but dynamic practices that can evolve and adapt.

To further explore the deep-rooted interaction between tradition and modernity, Lee focuses on both Korean and Dutch papercutting for her Cut-out legacy project. During the research stage, she carried out a literature study, experimented with materials and interviewed experts. She also explored the intersecting field of paper cuttings and shamanism in collaboration with the Korean shaman Hong-ki Kim and Shim Ha-Yong, head of the Korean Folk Art Museum. Following three different experiments, she managed to blend Korean and Dutch papercutting techniques into a new cultural language. In the first experiment, she compares the work of Mennonite preacher Jan de Bleyker with the work of Hong-ki Kim. For the second experiment, she collaborated with Hong-ki Kim and mime artist Yu Jin Gyu, with whom she explores how best to depict Seolwi (Korean papercutting) in intangible ways. Finally, she interviewed members of the Dutch Association for Papercutting, which resulted in a reciprocal knowledge exchange and the conclusion that the preservation of this art cannot be the sole responsibility of individuals alone. 'Cutting craft should be approached not only as a beautiful traditional craft but also as an intangible cultural heritage that is alive and evolving through time. I believe it can provide valuable insights into the role of crafts in shaping cultural identity and community.'

This year has been transformative for Lee. 'It has deepened my understanding of the socio-cultural and historical layers of traditional crafts, allowing me to better appreciate their profound influence on contemporary design.' The opportunity to collaborate with experts and organisations has expanded her creative network and enriched her artistic vocabulary. 'On a personal level, this year confirmed my belief in the interconnectedness of art, craft and society. It reminded me that the beauty of craft lies not only in the final form but also in the process, labour and stories woven into each piece.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Tessa van den Eeden

Tessa van den Eeden

Self-taught fashion designer Tessa van den Eeden began her journey with her mother's sewing machine and willpower, and has now built a business. She developed her own voice, with work that shows what's happening on the inside. She stood out and was selected during the Scout Nights. 'I was overjoyed, but had pushed the bar high with my proposal.' Her proposal builds further on her multi-media project COCAINE. 'This project was based on the urge to escape through drugs, alcohol, addiction to work or standards of excellence.' This year, Van den Eeden wants to address other topics in a similar manner. 'I want to break down taboos and get people thinking.' She wants to visualise people's struggles, but was struggling as a maker. 'This year turned into a voyage of discovery into who I am as a maker. What is my voice? What space can I claim for myself?' She wanted to use the input of others for a new collection, but it did not get off the ground. 'It's not the obstacles experienced by others, but what I personally see and feel that drives my desire and ability to design.'

Now, Van den Eeden puts her autonomy squarely in the middle. She observes sensitivities in society and processes these in her designs. Often, these are themes that affect her personally as well, such as femininity. 'I see many people in my client circle: models, brides-to-be, mothers, performers and drag queens. They all have a different perspective on femininity. Some view it as a role to fully embrace, while others seek to balance revealing and concealing. They want to cover up what they don't like about their body. For many women, a fitting session can be quite confronting. You can see how they feel about themselves and their body, which is interesting. They hope that different clothing can dispel their discontent.' But the last thing Van den Eeden wants to do is to conceal femininity. 'I like to focus on the small details of the female body, that's why I took a course in lingerie this year.'

For Van den Eeden, femininity is something to literally highlight in the foreground. Drawings of the 'menstruation dress', 'vulva dress' and 'womb dress' each show dresses that are feminine in terms of form as well as applications. How someone views the dresses depends on their reference framework. 'It is feminine, it stands out, it's in your face. I want to confront people with their discomfort.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Tofe Al-Obaidi

Tofe Al-Obaidi

'To what extent can we use today's technology to reconstruct someone's memories?' wonders graphic designer Tofe Al-Obaidi. Memories are a central part of his work. He was fourteen years old when he had to leave his homeland of Iraq, and he has been living in the Netherlands for as many years now. In his graduation project Removing dust covers he explored how he could return to the place of his youth. The 'dust covers' refer to the custom to cover furniture with sheets when you leave your home for an extended period of time. The Al-Obaidi family did this before fleeing Iraq in the hope that they would return.

He reconstructed their home and the interior digitally in 3D, based on the very few photographs that he still has from his childhood home, his personal memories and information from sources such as Google Maps. In due course, he transformed that digital world into a physical one by recreating his former bedroom and projecting images onto the furniture. A narrator takes you back to the traumatic moment when Al-Obaidi had to tell his mother about the tragic fate of his brother.

Although the realisation of this project was extremely confrontational for Al-Obaidi, it also helped him to process his experiences. To expand his project further, he will portray somebody else's memories for the first time: a co-student from the academy who is also unable to return to his childhood home for personal reasons. Ultimately, Al-Obaidi hopes to develop a method and system that will allow others to give shape to their personal memories. 'I have noticed that it is much easier to do this for other people, because you don't have the same close emotional attachment.'

This year, Al-Obaidi worked on technical improvements to make the 3D textures and experience even more realistic. He also explored ways to add more sensory perceptions such as smell to make the memories more tangible. He has also developed a keen interest in new types of archiving, such as the 3D scanning of objects, and he wants to replace the mdf-furniture in the installation with a more sustainable modular system. The talent development grant allows him to experiment with materials in this way and provides the stability to try out new things. Another unexpected advantage has been the collaboration with other programme participants: 'It makes it easier to connect with others.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Tycho

Tycho

Actually, Tycho did not want to have anything to do with art. With a father who was a visual artist and a mother who was an actress, as a child he developed an aversion against traditional art forms. But when he was thirteen, he developed an interest in graffiti and was especially drawn to the anonymity and excitement it offered. Some ten years later, and after completing his graphic design course, he started making critical murals about urban change on buildings ready for demolition and putting alternative traffic signs on building sites. The Amsterdam resident started to turn these kinds of interventions in public areas into his work, addressing serious issues such as the housing shortage and gentrification. And so he became a kind of artist after all.

With his social critique and typical Amsterdam sense of humour, he exposes the inequalities in the city. His criticism arises mainly from the love he feels for his place of birth. 'The housing shortage does not apply to every demographic. Anyone with enough money can buy a house but people on lower incomes cannot. This is what I want to convey, and public space is the best place to do this.'

During the development year, Tycho explored new techniques and materials and started collaborations with various artists from a variety of disciplines, including photographers, tattoo artists and ceramists. 'We all live in the same city and are part of the community. We can see how Amsterdam is changing, positively as well as negatively.' In the Vrij Paleis art centre, he organised the flash exhibition Kontempererrie kunst using his own installations and the installations of others that highlight important urban themes. 'I was interested in finding out if I could capture the same sense of rebellion while displaying the work in an indoor setting. It certainly left me eager for more. By experimenting in this way – which you can only do if you have the necessary financial resources – I also discovered what I cannot do.'

He made a series about anonymous identity with photographer Lin Woldendorp. 'We live in a very visible world. It has become increasingly difficult to remain anonymous these days. And what does privacy still mean in this day and age? Woldendorp photographed a group of men with the same haircut. I am one of these men. We are shown in different poses and positions but you can only see the back of our heads. The interesting thing is: this is how we become anonymous again.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Zobayda

Zobayda

Zobayda's goal was to develop her practice as an audio-visual maker, with formats such as photography, video and sound. She also wished to investigate how she could best use her network for this goal and how she could collaborate with the artists and thinkers that influenced her both directly and indirectly. 'The overall goal was to further expand my practice.'

The central theme for Zobayda was stillness. 'What does it actually mean? How do I see and experience it in my own life, and what does it mean to others? There are so many forms of stillness, and this is what I wanted to focus on. I felt inspired by writers, artists, thinkers and friends who all grapple with stillness in their own way. The big question is: how can we all find stillness, given the pace at which today's world is charging ahead? I wanted to share my vision and that of others by means of research, interviews and visual arts. Many of the outcomes and results are long-term projects that haven't yet been shared or displayed in public. At the same time, I worked on various projects in the past year using photography and film. In the coming period I wish to work with sound, and to take a more introspective look at my practice, and to build up my archive and website.'

The entire process has been of inestimable value for the audio-visual maker. 'I have learned which working method suits me best. For example, I know now how liberating it is to be fully autonomous with regard to my hours, my interests, the formats and collaborations. Besides learning about my own practice, I have also been able to further explore my network and my own role therein. The role I want to fulfil as storyteller and visual artist, and how I can be there for people through my art. I have collaborated with all sorts of makers: writers, researchers, photographers, videographers, poets and more. I was able to put myself in the position of a student and in that way to learn as much as possible from the people I admire. This way, the grant has enabled me to learn, to grow, to create and to collaborate in ways that I used to dream of. My next step is to develop a documentary, which I started on earlier this year.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Zuzanna Zgierska

Zuzanna Zgierska

Zgierska challenges the Western ocular-centric knowledge paradigm that ranks vision over other senses. She hacks scientific tools and embeds them in her camera rig as prosthetic extensions. These pieces of technology sense information archived in the landscape that is invisible to the human eye. By doing so, she critiques the visual tools of colonists and settlers who charted terrains with texts and images, while acknowledging the wisdom of vanquished cultures that often gain fascinating insights beyond the directly perceivable. 'By changing how we register the world, we can shift power structures and thus social reality,' says Zgierska. 'I am looking for a way to connect different forms of knowledge and to make them accessible.'

Since 2020, she has collaborated with nomadic communities in Inughuit Nunaat (Northern Greenland) and with paleomagnetic physicists in Europe on a series Out of focus (co-directed by Louis Braddock Clarke). In this work, remagnetising iron meteorites (the (hard drives from space) became a strategy to recover geological trophies and decolonise landscape discourses.

Her current project draws on the 2019 scientific discovery that Barrigones, sculptures from the ancient Monte Alto culture in present-day Guatemala, show magnetic anomalies around the bellybutton area. These stone giants were deliberately formed around a magnetic field, suggesting that the Mesoamerican sculptors knew about magnetism long before the Greeks described it in the eighth century BCE. The discovery changes our view of the Western world as being historically more advanced. Zgierska repeats the scientists' measurements in Guatemala with a self-developed magnetometer. She is mapping anomalies in realtime to share and celebrate this knowledge – which would otherwise remain hidden behind a scientific journal's paywall – with the local community. 'There is so much we can learn from non-Western cultures, and by calibrating registration tools, I can tap into different ways of understanding and in that way facilitate knowledge exchange.' Her work pays tribute to the knowledge of the ancient Monte Alto people while speculating on magnetism as a way of storing information.

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Afsaneh Ghafarian Rabe’I

Afsaneh Ghafarian Rabe’I

Afsaneh Ghafarian Rabe'I is an Iranian-Dutch self-taught photographer and visual artist. She creates layered images that translate into stories full of messages, symbols and paradoxes. 'As the daughter of migrant workers who ended up in the Netherlands in the late 1960s, I found out at a young age that the Netherlands is not the centre of the world, but that multiple realities can and do exist side by side.' This layered reality is also reflected in the techniques she employs. In addition to photographs she also makes collages, combining photography with paintings, screen printing and textiles.

For Parallel, which is due to be elaborated and released as a self-published art book, Ghafarian Rabe'I examines the parallel experience of second-generation Iranian Dutch nationals. 'It is specifically about the group that was born or grew up in the Dutch system as the result of a choice that their parents made. A world where the outdoors at first glance bears no resemblance at all to their roots. Iranians in diaspora are known for their rapid and successful integration and even assimilation. But the paradox is that many of them, despite not having been born or raised in Iran, maintain strong cultural links with their country of origin and often have a strong sense of homesickness and uprootedness.'

Besides her experimentation with images, this year Ghafarian Rabe'I also worked on her positioning and profile. Her first venture was to design a stamp that bridges her two cultures. 'I find it important to leave a stamp behind, literally from my own point of view.' The prints and merchandise in her online shop fulfil an important role in her communication with her target groups. This year she also exhibited for the first time the photographic series MHD SKATE 1401 – LIFE GOES ON, about the skating generation Z in the holy Iranian city of Mashhad. The series was displayed as part of the group exhibition QOQNOOS – You Can't Burn Woman Made Of Fire, curated by the Iranian-Dutch artist Tina Farifteh.

It has also been a taxing year. A few weeks after she started the Talent programme, the Woman, Life, Freedom revolution broke out in Iran, triggered by the death of the young Kurdish-Iranian woman Jina Mahsa Amini. It turned the world on its head, certainly for Ghafarian Rabe'I as well. A number of her original plans could not be carried out, but other plans soon took their place. As she says: 'It's all part of my practice; you learn to be resilient from a very young age.'
Alex Walker

Alex Walker

Through his publishing project Mumbling Matter, graphic designer Alex Walker documents artistic practices that are grounded in resourceful, do-it-yourself and collective production methods. The project was launched in February 2023 with Growing Blue, a micro-site which hosts a collection of 102 paper and fabric filters that were used by textile designer Lucila Kenny to extract indigo pigment from the leaves of Dyer's Woad. Each individual filter shows different traces of the pigment, and as such are artefacts that capture a moment in time and an alchemic interaction with the plant.

The second project to be released as part of Mumbling Matter is Best of Days — a monograph documenting Octave Rimbert-Rivière's ceramic works. This book showcases the ceramist's experimental use of casting, glazing and the ways in which he incorporates digital 3D sculpture into the production process. Photographs of the works are reproduced using fluorescent CMYK, which emphasises the lively character of the objects.

In November 2023, Walker will launch the publication flower, fruit, leaf, husk and root: experiments in growing colour — another collaboration with Lucila Kenny and the third project to be released as part of Mumbling Matter. This publication documents the friendship and artistic collaboration between Kenny and artist Naan Rijks. Kenny and Rijks have a shared garden adjoining their studio which is part of their project Painting Plants. The publication contains conversations and photographs of the work, the studio and the artists' gardening activities. To share their knowledge and offer inspiration, the publication also includes a number of recipes. Each book has a unique silkscreen-printed cover, using homemade inks produced from plants in the artists' garden.
Anna Wonders

Anna Wonders

A strand of seaweed from a black beach on Iceland ends up on the workbench in Anna Wonders's studio in Zwolle. There, the seaweed is pressed into a synthetic rubber mould using a vulcanising press. After pouring wax into the mould, the wax replica of the seaweed is transferred into a cuvette, and plaster is poured in. Once the plaster has hardened, the wax is heated and poured off. The resulting mould can then be used to cast precious metals.

Wonders uses this ingenious and time-tested procedure to transform natural forms into gold and silver jewellery. Her latest collection is based on the curling form of a piece of seaweed. In the past year she was able to spend another month in the Icelandic studio where she performed her graduation internship in 2018, as part of the goldsmith education programme at the Vakschool Schoonhoven. She also invested in new equipment for her studio to enable the in-house production of her jewellery pieces. This marks a renewed start to her own business, with a shift in emphasis from commissioned work to developing her own work. To underline this new start, her own name is now the brand name. 'I think that the core of my discipline is about creating narrative. This is my story, alongside the customer's story.'

At the same time, Wonders is increasingly aware that, as a goldsmith, she is part of a chain. It's not just the relationship to the customer that matters, but she has also started contemplating her relationship to the people who mine the raw material – gold – for her. 'Being a goldsmith is a wonderful artisan practice, but when you really start looking into it, it often turns out to not be very sustainable.' That is why she works with Fairmined Gold: a quality label for gold sourced from responsible and small-scale mining organisations that guarantee that the gold is traceable and mined in a sustainable manner. Wonders also aims to increase this awareness among her customers and colleagues, and to show that you can choose for sustainably sourced gold. 'It's important to me that people choose my jewellery for the design, but also that they are happy with the backstage story. And that they want to join me in spreading this story and in that way to inspire others as well.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Anni Nöps

Anni Nöps

Sound artist and electronic composer Anni Nöps started her talent development year with a residency in Zurich, at the Institute for Computer Music and Sound Technology. There, she studied how the movement of speakers affects sound. In the conceptual installation Becoming an ocean, speakers produce a static hiss – a monotonous sound when they are at rest, but when they move around it creates the impression of waves. That sensory aspect of sound is what fascinates Nöps. 'Part of my research for this development year is “sonic materiality”. I want to study sound in the broadest sense, but also from the perspective of how sound can feel physical and tangible in a space.'

She has now studied these qualities of sound in a museum setting for the first time. The sound installation Borderlands (a collaboration with sound artist Casimir Geelhoed) will be open to visitors in Stedelijk Museum Schiedam for six months. No fewer than twenty-two speakers have been installed in the museum's attic. As the sound moves between them, the dark room enhances the senses, creating an intimate experience. With regard to the title, Nöps explains: 'In a way, you feel as if the sounds are coming from very far away, so you feel that you are part of the same world as the sounds, as it were, but not always. That creates a space that exists between the real world and the imaginary or virtual world.'

Presenting the installation in a museum allows a much larger and diverse audience to experience her work than at specialized festivals, resulting in different feedback than she is used to. She also intends to invite a choreographer to Stedelijk Museum Schiedam to respond to the sound with dance and motion (whereas usually in choreography, sound follows movement). Nöps is also working towards a music release, since she has also developed further in her compositions. Among other things, she participated in a mentorship programme to explore classical composition.

All in all, Nöps is satisfied with her development year. 'Being able to fully focus on my work has been amazing. It was wonderful to develop myself and be able to investigate things without knowing what the outcome will be.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Benjamin Earl

Benjamin Earl

Technology helps us in our daily lives, boosting our productivity and making our lives more efficient. Since completing his master's studies in Non-Linear Narrative at the Royal Academy of Art, tech artist Benjamin Earl sees technology in poetic terms. This year, he wanted to conduct research that would ultimately lead to a 'home-made' computer – a DIY computer that would serve not only as a tool but also as company. 'I came to know computers in a new way this year. Not just as a slick interface, but as something built up out of materials that I can play with.'

In this past year, Earl joined the Varia collective in Rotterdam, which employs technology in poetic ways. In his opinion, the closer you zoom in on technology, the more poetry there is to be found. 'The language used for coding, for example, but also the way we deal with technology as a society. With my work, I want to bring the intangible into the foreground.'

While creating his computer, one aspect that Earl thought about was the power source. He chose solar energy. 'Using technology based on the sun's rotation is interesting. One direct consequence is that the computer does not work at night: like the rest of us, it sleeps.' A computer that 'goes to sleep' and functions in a cyclical manner: it is as poetic as our daily computer usage is prosaic. The fact that the computer does not function at all hours of the day is part of the project. 'You come to realise that there are limits to the way things were made.'

Finding likeminded others was a challenge. 'I found it difficult to break out of my bubble,' Earl says. Fortunately he had the computer by his side, who gradually became a friend of sorts that travelled with him. 'It gained a personality of its own, and because it worked on solar energy, I could use it outside in the park as well.'

The computer will never be completely finished in Earl's mind – an attitude that he also adopts when talking about his project. Always open and inquisitive; not adamant, but possessed of a certain carefulness. This approach was well received at the symposium Naive Yearly. 'I involved the audience in my findings, and that yielded a lot of positive responses and suggestions, which felt very good.' That was the moment when Earl's bubble broke, and he was able to find the kindred spirits he had been looking for. Thus, his DIY computer graduated from good company to matchmaker.

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Photo by Camilla Marrese
Colin Wegman

Colin Wegman

Music producer and sound designer Colin Wegman was born in Curaçao and moved to the Netherlands with his parents at a young age. For many years, he had a wish to do something involving the island where his family came from and still lives. Curaçao is therefore central to the development plan that he submitted to the Fund. Through music, he hopes to become more intimate with the feelings that Curaçao arouses in him.

Wegman travelled to the island for a month. He met and talked with many people, visited museums, and conducted research in music archives. With the traditional music of Curaçao as starting point, he studied the musical instruments that play a role in this musical tradition. That led him to the tambú, a drum that is played during celebrations and has long been used to perform protest songs. 'I visited the workshop of the first and only woman in Curaçao who makes her own instruments, Tatiana. She taught me how to make a tambú. This instrument came to the Caribbean from Africa and has always been used as a political statement. It is also a ritual instrument: the rhythms are played quite fast and create a kind of trance that I recognise from night clubs. Techno music was always associated with resistance, too. I was able to collect all kinds of ingredients, like another instrument, a benta, to take back to the Netherlands and use in my composition. There are a lot of similarities between club music in the Netherlands and the music of Curaçao, that's something I want to work with.'

Before his trip, Wegman spent some time working with Cosmic Force (the stage name of Ben Spaander). 'Cosmic Force has been active as a producer of Electro music in the Dutch dance scene for many years. I worked with him in his studio and learned a lot from him. It was a valuable experience that will help grow further.'

Wegman would like to capture the beauty of Curaçao in several tracks. With that in mind, he made a large number of audio recordings during his trip. 'There are some things that everyone experiences in Curaçao – the way the wind blows, for example. Where my family grew up, the wind is always strong. That's very familiar to me. My grandmother's veranda is always lively, with people coming and going. There's always the sound of chatting and cars passing by. And there's always the wind, which carries sounds from far away as well. All that together creates a kind of mystical quality, which you'll definitely be hearing in my music.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Constanza Castagnet

Constanza Castagnet

Constanza Castagnet's design practice focuses on sound, technology and performance. She is particularly interested in language and voices, which allow us to express ourselves in all manner of ways. 'That fascination has been with me ever since I was a toddler,' she says excitedly. 'I used to mimic all kinds of voices and experiment with high and low tones.'

Talking in more depth about her work, the sound designer explains: 'I use sound, text, performance and video to create experimental environments in which I resist the temptation to use the voice as a shaper of meaning. I create eerie settings in which I use non-verbal and indefinable forms of expression to question our conventional understanding of communication.'

Castagnet came to the Netherlands from Argentina in the fall of 2019 for a two-year master's programme, Approaching Language, at the Sandberg Institute. During her studies, she focused her research on singing as a way to dissolve the structures of language. She created compelling installations that encouraged people to reflect on how preconceptions about meaning, sense and misunderstandings can be changed.

The currently ongoing discussions about new technologies are a subject of great interest to Castagnet. 'I am intrigued by the ways in which new technologies affect our lives and how we express ourselves, especially the unexpected ways they can be linked to the creation of sound.'

The project is in part an homage to her great-grandfather, who composed tangoes around the year 1930, largely in the capacity of ghost writer for other musicians. 'His own works had been lost, there were no more sound recordings to be found, but during a family visit in Buenos Aires I discovered the existence of a number of original scores. I was seized by the idea that I could revive his music using technology. First, I arranged a quartet performance of his original scores, and recorded that music in order create an archive of his forgotten works. I also had the ensemble perform my own reinterpretations of his works. Now, I am in the process of creating my own compositions using the collected materials, while for example also using AI and other generative software to transfer the woody tones of, say, a cello to my own voice recordings, endowing my voice with a phonic quality that it does not have by nature. Using all of these materials, I am currently preparing an album, which will be followed by a live presentation. Thanks to sound, I can find some sort of connection with my great-grandfather, even though I never knew him.'

Text by Iris Stam
Deborah Mora

Deborah Mora

Visual artist and designer Deborah Mora has loved nature for as long as she can remember. She grew up near Lago Maggiore in Italy, surrounded by nature and greenery. In her work, too, nature is present everywhere.

In the context of her artistic practice, she is interested in storytelling through combinations of image and sound. Mora studies how these components complement each other, produce stories, convey meaning, have tactile qualities and physical sensations. 'I am curious as to how physical and sensory ways of telling stories can mesh with my image-focused practice, using physical and digital techniques,' the designer says. She creates her audiovisual experiences in collaboration with artists from other disciplines, such as sound designers and musicians. For example, Mora (stage name: Orah) presented an audiovisual performance at FIBER Festival 2023, accompanying the premiere of Kenny Kneefel's (Shoal) new album with visuals that immersed the audience in new worlds where reality and illusion merge.

Mora takes another stride forward in her new project, which is to create a live performance in interaction with her audience. Because she misses hiking and cycling through nature, the designer is – during a brief spell back in the area where she grew up in Italy – spending a lot of time outside, zooming in on plants, insects and rocks with her macro lens. The resulting photographs, videos and graphic 3D animations will then be combined with collaborations with musicians, sound designers and dancers. Mora also wants to embrace spontaneity, improvization and intuition. After all, as a designer she can exercise a great deal of control. 'Visuals can always be corrected, the work is planned and structured,' she says. 'I am learning to relinquish control by working with musicians, dancers and performers whose practices are based more on improvisation. By organising live audiovisual performances, I am learning to accept the unexpected. To experience the physical in person, I took an intensive dance workshop at Amenti in Rotterdam.'

Exactly how she will fuse together music, dance and the interactive live performance remains a bit of a puzzle. Once all the pieces click together, Mora will present the result at arts and culture festivals, such as the next edition of FIBER Festival in Amsterdam. Visitors will have the opportunity to form their own interpretations of what they hear and experience, and the nature of the connection they feel with the natural world that Mora has created.

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Dérive

Dérive

Hedwig van der Linden and Kevin Westerveld met at Delft University of Technology, where they were studying for their master's degree in Architecture. After gaining experience in various internships and workplaces, they founded Dérive in 2022. Operating from Brussels and Rotterdam, their research-driven design practice focuses on scenography, public space, landscapes, co-creation and strategy. The socially engaged duo does so in a world full of transition issues, for instance in the areas of climate, biodiversity, food, water and mobility. 'We want to take steps, to bring fresh air to those complex issues, by taking a conceptual and co-creative approach and by being attentive listeners,' says Westerveld.

'We do so both upon request and at our own initiative, so that we can put issues on the agenda,' says Van der Linden. 'We are open-minded and embrace an intuitive and associative approach that lets us deviate from the established way of doing things. That deviation – whose meaning is encapsulated in the French word dérive – can be difficult because it requires more persuasion. But it also breeds excitement.' A sense of wonder, strolling around and studying environments at eye level are essential elements in Dérive's design practice.

Building on what is already there and operating on a basis of equality and a plurality of perspectives are two further important principles for Dérive. 'We want to involve a diverse group in the development or redevelopment of a given area, and to stimulate a public dialogue,' says Westerveld. Van der Linden elaborates: 'We relate to each other like amphibians, we speak different languages: the tongue of politics as well as of the citizen. All so that we can increase the involvement of the local community.'

The duo's application for the grant centred around a further investigation of the dérive method and its potential applications in various areas for their design practice. 'Around the time when we were awarded the grant, we were also selected for the Young Innovators programme and got the opportunity to create an exhibition design in collaboration with AIR and OMI Rotterdam,' Van der Linden explains. 'That gave us the confidence to investigate whether we can make Dérive a full-time practice.' Westerveld adds: 'We are working on various projects, in both fixed and variable collaborations.' Van der Linden: 'With the Dutch Design Week approaching, we are also turning our attention to our visual identity and our website, to share insights with young designers about the dérive method and how to run a firm, based on talks with various experts.' 'Transparency is important to us,' Westerveld notes. 'It's going to be a showroom full of stories.'

Text by Iris Stam
Elif Satanaya Özbay

Elif Satanaya Özbay

Elif Satanaya Özbay's background is in film and video. She obtained her bachelor's degree from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2013, and her master's degree from the Sandberg Institute in 2017. Through her research-based works, the artist – born in the Netherlands and of Turkish Circassian descent – seeks to decode diasporic nostalgia within the horror genre by producing performances, visuals and installations.

With her project How to Trace a Forgotten Diasporic Identity, Özbay wishes to further develop both her inner storyteller and her inner researcher, as well as to investigate how she can make materials and information more accessible.

Talking about her background, the artist says: 'My ancestors come from Circassia and Abkhazia, an area in Caucasia, in northern Russia. Ethnic cleansing and genocides forced the Circassian people to flee in the late nineteenth century, creating a diaspora that halted the growth of this demographic group and caused their languages and cultures to slowly be forgotten.' Impassioned, she continues: 'I consider it an honour to create works around this theme. Even with my minimal knowledge, I can help resist this slide into obscurity. I believe that this is important for my community, and I also want to inform others about it. Most people don't know about Circassians, the region of Circassia or the genocide committed against Circassians.'

Özbay describes her project as 'research combined with performance, framed within the horror genre, using linking methods and mind mapping.' She explains further. 'I combine Circassian mythology, folklore and information about historic events with contemporary references, for instance from pop culture. The story's starting point is autobiographic. After that, I play with the idea that myths are born from a place of truth before gradually transforming into fiction. I use structure, but also intentionally create chaos. This way I try to tell my story in a playful and informative way, and to create new stories together with the audience.'

Following a number of educational studio visits and meetings with researchers and members of the Circassian community, Özbay is now focusing on further elaboration and presentation. The first performance has already been held in Antwerp, while the second version will be presented during the Dutch Design Week. The third and final version will be presented in December, again in Antwerp.

'The grant has given me freedom, recognition, time to conduct research, and opportunities to network and establish working relationships,' Özbay concludes.

Text by Iris Stam
Elizaveta Federmesser

Elizaveta Federmesser

When Elizaveta Federmesser used AI to create new designs based on a database of images of modern jewellery, the software soon came up with the image of a coin. She quickly realized that this is the archetypal form of jewellery in many cultures. For Federmesser, this lucky find opened up the idea that 'instead of creating something new, you can also look at how the new is actually the super old.' It made her wonder whether for every object group there is a source object that we forgot but AI can remember. She applied for the Talent Development Grant with a plan to 3D scan objects from prominent Dutch museum collections and feed them to AI as a dataset to discover the archetypal form of different object groups.

As she carried out the various steps of her plan, contacting museums and starting an acting course to work on her presentation skills, she realized that she needed a venture closer to heart. 'I wanted to expand the project, extend its scope by involving institutions, but instead I expanded into thinking: why do I even care?' She realized that she is not so much interested in the objects as in the stories behind them, the mythology and iconology that gives objects their unique meaning. This realization marked the start of an investigation into icons, mythology, archetypes, fashion theory and philosophy.

During this research, several pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Her new insights converge with her previous research on 'it' bags and coming-of-age stories, and Federmesser sees many similarities between these theories. 'I adopted the coming-of-age angle to examine these tropes. Many cultural theorists are talking about them, they just have different fields they want to influence. But then I realized I don't need to influence a field; I can just tell a story about interesting icons and tropes through a coming-of-age story to acknowledge what they mean and how they changed throughout time.'

The story will take the form of a self-published magazine, BagMag, in which essays and interviews are alternated with AI enhanced images. The first issue will be dedicated to the iconic as an enduring genre in media and everyday life. 'It is a teen magazine for reading adults who are curious about culture, fashion and ideas,' says Federmesser. 'What you might call a mixed bag.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Estelle Barriol

Estelle Barriol

'I believe that we have to build differently in order to create future-proof, resilient and low-impact architecture,' says Estelle Barriol, founder of Studio ACTE, an architecture firm that specializes in designs based on reused materials. Sourcing those materials and subsequently using them for construction is something Barriol prefers to do personally. There are times when she feels more like a contractor than an architect.

The past year has given her a better grip on her positioning. 'The most interesting thing about applying for grants is that it forces you to think clearly and to figure out how you want to evolve and develop your practice.' One of her insights pertains to the scale of her work: that it needn't be very big. What is more important is that her design method of hands-on building is clear to see. She also realized that her practice, at heart, is shaped by a deep love for artisanal professions and regional or indigenous (vernacular) architecture.

This year gave Barriol the financial room she needed to participate in pitches that pay little or nothing: challenging competitions that do not always lead to a commission but are interesting in terms of substance and offer a good way to expand one's expertise. For example, she was able to elaborate her preparatory process with an additional step, engage in more on-site research into available materials, and create detailed models. She created a database of local materials, found among others at junk dealers and horticulturists, thereby further positioning Studio ACTE as an expert in the field.

Barriol was also able to further professionalize her practice in terms of the recording and documenting of projects and submissions. This is an important factor in acquisitions, especially because the reused materials are often not recognizable as such. This aesthetic aspect is something that Barriol also finds important. 'What kind of language could reuse bring to architecture? And how can we use the urban mine stocks to build in a substantial spatial manner, with design quality?'

Barriol has run her firm for three years, of which the past year was the most exciting: so many things came together. 'Because I could reshape all these thoughts about what reuse means and push it further, that created the chance to get selected and develop more meaningful projects.' The highlight of the year was the studio's selection for the French equivalent of the Prix de Rome, for which she is researching the antique recycling technique of spolia. Her contribution will be part of a group exhibition in Paris, along with the other selected participants.

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Florian Regtien

Florian Regtien

Florian Regtien is straight about it: 'I am addicted to the sewing machine, and I am content with that addiction.' Every piece of clothing he creates is unique and, in that sense, a work of art. Aside from that, he paints and creates mixed media sculptures and collages, often also with the use of his sewing machine. And he is an actor too. Clearly, Regtien has a strong drive to create: 'I just really enjoy making things. It's a kind of meditation, a thought process, something that gives me peace.'

Regtien wanted to use his talent development year to 'taste' a variety of traditional crafts and in doing so develop himself into a true multidisciplinary artist. He apprenticed under a shoemaker, a furniture maker and a goldsmith; he made sneakers, an ottoman, pedestals; he upholstered, learned how to weld, and took a painting course. During a residency in Japan, he dedicated himself fully to denim fabric. 'I was already in love with denim, but now I feel that this love has grown into something eternal.'

Initially Regtien was preoccupied with the techniques, striving to execute them as well as possible. But he gradually let go of that fixation and instead came to focus on the question: what do I want to make, and what do I want to say with my works? Expanding his toolbox of skills has multiplied the creative possibilities in his mind, allowing him to adopt a broader perspective. Now, the challenge is to channel all these ideas. In the past year he was assisted by a creative strategist, who helped him figure out and communicate his broad practice. Regtien will be presenting a selection of his various recent creations in a solo exhibition at Vrij Paleis in Amsterdam.

The many workshops and courses that Regtien took gave him new skills, but even more valuable is a new important insight: 'This year, the main lesson has been that you need to enjoy the process, instead of being obsessed with the end product.' This is symbolised in the artwork that he composed out of the lists he makes every morning, when he writes down everything he wants to get done that day, followed by a daily motto. The most important motto of the year sits at the piece's centre: Maybe I should seize the day. 'I really got to know myself better. I have more peace and more love for myself now.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Florian van Zandwijk

Florian van Zandwijk

Florian van Zandwijk obtained his bachelor's degree in Design Art Technology (DAT) at ArtEZ in Arnhem in 2019. He works in the field of digital culture, both as an autonomous maker and on commission. The latter includes assignments as event organizer, curator, designer, producer and educator. Van Zandwijk describes his work as 'an unrelenting search for order in the chaos and complexity that surrounds us and an attempt to make some kind of sense of it.' He explains: 'We humans are constantly taking action to keep the systems, protocols and technologies running that we ourselves created. That incessant need, alongside humanity's inability to truly grasp and control, is central to my work.'

Van Zandwijk's focus is currently on De Arena, in which he investigates the football stadium as a metaphor for society. This project is a continuation of his ArtEZ graduation project, The Ball The Field The Arena, in which he interviewed workers and journalists from the worlds of data collection, stadium security, technological tools and the recording for TV of football. The book Homo Ludens by philosopher Johan Huizinga served as a basis for the project.

De Arena has already resulted in Spectacle of Sports, a performative lecture at W139 about the personal, political, cultural, social and technological aspects of the football World Cup. The performance was live-streamed on a large screen. This year also saw the emergence of a new video work, which Van Zandwijk created in the stadium of football club Sparta Rotterdam. It centres around a performative action that relates to technology: 'Before every match in the Eredivisie football league, someone has to bounce a football in the goal on both ends of the pitch to calibrate the television cameras, to ensure that all cameras register the bounce at the exact same moment. This prevents errors during the match itself, for example in the registration of offside. My video work centres on the absurdity of such obligatory protocols.'

Van Zandwijk is currently being mentored by curator Sanneke Huisman. 'My approach has gradually grown more direct. I am trying to develop fewer 'round' concepts and instead respond more to fleeting observations and inspirations, such as an online video or something that I encounter on the street and record. This has grown into a collection of works that I will present both online and in a physical setting in the coming months, for example via open calls and by organising a studio visit.' Concluding: 'Getting out there with my work is good for me. It takes me out of my comfort zone.'

Text by Iris Stam
Gijs Schalkx

Gijs Schalkx

At his graduation, designer Gijs Schalkx drew attention with his home-built moped, powered by methane gas that he personally 'harvested' from ditches. Why? Because what drives him is a desire to minimise his dependency on the infrastructure that shapes our lives and to demonstrate that we can do more than just consume. 'And because I am very interested in energy, mobility and vehicles, I thought to myself: you know what, I'm going to investigate how much driving a car actually costs.'

The intention to build a car with his own hands had been with him for a while, but the main question was: what should it be powered by? 'My first thought was electricity, but that would never satisfy my requirements and be low-tech at the same time. I would have had to build enormous batteries, so big that the car would be too heavy to move under its own power.'

After some further research, the designer came up with another answer: oil. Or rather, plastic. 'We all throw away so much of it, and plastic is made from oil. I wondered whether I could reverse the chemical process and convert plastic back into its original form, and then use that oil to power my car. It seemed like a very interesting idea.'

Schalkx found almost everything he needed to build his car at the scrapyard. 'Unfortunately, the car I chose turned out to be the most rotten one of the lot, so I had to cut out the entire floor in order to fix everything underneath it, including the brakes. I ground away all the rust and spent an enormous amount of time welding. Right after the official inspection, the engine broke, although I was able to replace it with another second-hand one. Now, the vehicle is road-ready.'

'For the Dutch Design Week, I want to have succeeded in getting the car to run on oil. But even that process has consequences that may not be entirely responsible. What I do is boil plastic on the car's roof until it evaporates, and cooling down those vapours gives me oil to fuel the car. One kilo of plastic yields a bit less than a litre of oil. So although my plan to make a car that I can fuel independently was a success, I am not completely self-sufficient as regards energy. I need plastic for each trip, and because of that I may end up having to start consuming more again. So how independent can you really be, nowadays? Everything has consequences.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Hattie Wade

Hattie Wade

She was always one to ask critical questions, wanting to understand the frameworks that preserve a status quo in Europe. Hattie Wade questions what we accept as the truth with respect to our national heritage. Stories about the 'official' heritage can create a sense of national identity based on pride, which can lead to what Wade describes as 'toxic nationalism'. As an example: white nationalists in Great Britain – Wade's place of birth – protected the statues of slave traders during the Black Lives protests. And in the Netherlands, the Forum voor Democratie national party proposed a 'Dutch Values Protection Act', in response to the escalating debates about the figure of Black Pete (Zwarte Piet). 'This is rarely opposed by “contra-heritage”, that is to say, by understanding how the violence inherent to colonialism and imperialism is maintained through the contemporary frameworks of law, education and media,' she says.

Wade is working on three projects to expose this and to offer 'anti-venom', through extensive online, archival and field research. For example, she has interviewed Sadia Habib, a lecturer, researcher and project coordinator of Our Shared Cultural Heritage in Manchester Museum. Habib works with young diaspora communities to explore the question how heritage institutions can contribute to creating safe spaces where they can access heritage. Wade also interviews teachers and children in the Netherlands and Great Britain about the way colonial history is presented. She is working with the archaeology department of the municipality of The Hague to understand how historical stories are formed in response to archaeological finds. Her work will result in an experimental documentary. 'Wherever possible, I like to use audiovisual media to let the voices of others be heard.'

Her two other research projects focus on legislation. Wade is working with ARIJ, which is a network of Arabic research journalists in the Middle East and North Africa. The project concentrates on a colonial law from 1917 in Morocco, which protects forests on the one hand but that stimulates creating wildfires on the other, in order to facilitate the occupation of land. 'As a designer, I am able to represent their research in a spatial, sculptural exhibition, due to go on display in Jordan in December. I enjoy making complex and concealed information tangible, visible and comprehensible for the general public,' Wade says. 'I cannot cause systems to collapse but can make them wobble. And I hope that, a few generations after us, the narrative will have shifted to a more polyphonic, honest historical narrative and fairer laws.'

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Igrien Yin Liu

Igrien Yin Liu

Creative director and image creator Igrien Yin Liu (刘寅) had a clear idea in her mind when she formulated her plans for her talent development year. She would explore her own visual and personal identity as a woman of Chinese descent who grew up in the Netherlands. The identity that ended up taking centre stage was very different, however, because during the past year she became a mother. As a result, it has been a wonderful but tumultuous year. 'The pregnancy really changed me, and so has parenthood. As a person, but also as an artist. You start seeing things differently, your perspective changes. It was a real shift.'

In order to capture this reality in images, Liu created Motherhood: a visual series about motherhood, parenthood and the fragility of womanhood, as well as the power that comes with being a mother. The foundation of the series is a twelve-chapter poem by her own hand. Each chapter is accompanied by an image, and together they tell a complete story.

This new subject demanded a new visual style, leading Liu to experiment with photography. Where she used to do her shoots in the studio, with copious use of flash and post-processing, she now decided to test out natural light. 'Painting with light' is how she personally describes the technique, a kind of hybrid of photography and painting, softer and with fewer sharp lines. 'I really feel like new version of myself. I think that that's also why I felt the need to invent a new style.'

After her parental leave, Liu returned to her work by participating in a Chinese painting course at a Buddhist temple in Amsterdam, as she had intended to do (among other things) at the start of the development year. She is now turning her attention back her original plans to investigate her cultural identity, although the scope of her research has since expanded with new questions: what does her culture mean for her child? And who does she want to be for her daughter? Identity, after all, is always evolving.

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Iris Lam

Iris Lam

Interdisciplinary artist Iris Lam had the idea for her first children's book in 2020, as she lay on the couch with a burnout. 'I just couldn't get my body to relax. That's when the image popped into my mind of myself hooked up to a transformer, able to produce electricity. That way, the tension in my body could contribute to the energy transition!' It struck Lam as an amusing story, and the narrative wrote itself. While writing, Lam forgot about the world. The story was just too exciting to stop. 'There's a point when the main character is trapped in an indoor playground. I simply could not go to bed before I had freed her.'

In the past year, Lam learned how to create a book, write a well-rounded story and how to use various writing styles. More importantly, she learned a lot about overcoming one's anxieties, which is the topic of the book. 'I already knew a thing or two about anxieties, since I have enough of my own. I put all of that into my book.' What Lam did not know is that ten per cent of primary school students suffer from recurring anxieties, and that climate anxiety is a growing problem among this group. Despite that, there are very few children's books that deal with these subjects. So Lam had her work cut out for her: 'I like to work with themes that people find difficult to talk about. To me, taboos are frustrating and unnecessary.' And so De Bond voor Bangeriken (League of Cowards), which Lam both wrote and illustrated, is all about heroic cowards and shivering heroes.

The book helped Lam overcome a few of her own anxieties as well. 'I find self-promotion quite daunting. I was advised to visit children's bookstores to promote my book, so I did that my own way, by going on a cycling trip through the Netherlands. I announced my visits on social media and slept in hostels or stayed with other people along the way.'

It proved to be an educational experience. 'Booksellers know a very great deal about youth literature, and they gave me useful tips. In a sense, that trip through the country was my own "League of Cowards", which made me set aside my social fears.'

Although Lam did not find the answer to the energy transition, she was able to use her energy and creativity to normalize fear among children. And writing one book has left her eager to write the next. The theme? Consent. 'It's going to be a coming-of-age story, a queer story. I've already taken a course about it, in which sex worker Betty Martin explained the wheel of consent. I think it will be a valuable theme for teenagers.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Ivo Brouwer

Ivo Brouwer

For graphic designer and letter enthusiast Ivo Brouwer, experimenting is the way to new discoveries. His first goal this year was, therefore, to set up a Type & Technology Laboratory to welcome in the 'great unknown'. Brouwer: 'Collaboration is a good catalyst for that. Over the past year, I worked with various designers and artists, hosted workshops, and took courses to learn new programming languages.' The end product of all that experimenting is an online archive full of findings. 'When you're doing experimental work, it is interesting to share all the steps and invite others to do the same. That's why I share all aspects of this project on a website, ranging from experiments to videos and articles.' In Brouwer's work, the process is also the product. That's why, in any case, the past year was a successful one.

Letter design is often purely about readability, but Brouwer finds it more interesting to challenge people to decipher the message. He does so by pushing the boundaries of the relationships between the visual and semantics in typography. Brouwer: 'The letter “A” has a phonetic meaning, but also a semantic one. Shapes can change and still preserve their meaning. The letter “A” can come in many different shapes and sizes, but it always remains the letter “A”. What I find interesting is to push the boundaries of that and to find out what you can do with the shape and behaviour of such a letter. I also always like to add an additional layer of meaning. By playing with that, text is more than just text, becoming a puzzle that lets you decipher multiple messages.' One word can have two meanings, for example. 'Not the functional but the poetic aspect of letters is what primarily interests me in this tension between form and meaning.'

How does sound relate to this attribution of meaning? This, and what a letter sounds like as a physical object, is what Brouwer explored in one of his collaborations, with sound artist Stefano Murgia. 'These kinds of questions are so rich that they give me lots of new ideas.' The fruitful collaboration spawned new perspectives, studies, and possibly new projects as well. First, however, there is still that online platform that needs to be published, which is Brouwer's final hurdle to clear. After that he can start exploring the depths. 'This was an exploratory process. At the next step, I want to completely unravel certain themes.' In this case, we can actually take 'unravel' literally. 'One concrete project that could grow into something big is Typographic Tapestry, where I make carpet patterns using letter shapes. It lends itself very well for a collaboration with the Textile Museum.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Javier Rodriguez

Javier Rodriguez

Collaboration is at the heart of Javier Rodriguez's practice. It started back in 2019 when he and his creative partner Lou Buche graduated from the Sandberg Institute's temporary master's programme Radical Cut-Up. After their graduation, they continued their collaboration under the alter ego Robuche. Rodriguez and Buche describe Robuche as 'a fast thinker that translates ideas into images in unconventional ways (...) exploring the porosity of media, reorganising and distorting the established production flows to develop its own language at the intersection of art and design.'

Rodriguez's application for the talent development grant stemmed from a need to work on a project for a longer period of time. The grant has provided him with an opportunity to explore a new medium and theme. He is currently working on a graphic novel consisting of three stories, each related to the theme of transhumanism on three scales: material, creature, and space. The first story revolves around gamma-butyrolactone, a solvent that is used as a cleaning agent to remove graffiti, for instance, but which also forms one of the ingredients for the synthetic hard drug GHB. In Rodriguez's graphic novel, the everyday banal and the disturbing, uncanny meet. It is a comic book without text; the meaning can be interpreted from the combination of different images. 'Stories need a certain degree of abstraction so that readers can bring in their own perspective and experience.'

Rodriguez's working method is layered and diverse. He creates, combines and transforms both existing and self-created images, using techniques and technologies such as photography and generative AI. 'That's really interesting to me. There are multiple ways to combine all those different inputs into the end result. And so there's many aspects to each part of the story.' He also enlists the help of others to discuss his storyboards, create images and to publish his graphic novel. 'Collaboration is also a way to support your practice. By exchanging and discussing with others, different disciplines come together, breaking down the boundaries and barriers between art and design.'

For the presentation of his graphic novel in early 2024, he is again considering merging different disciplines, such as cinematography, performance and installation, thereby also dissecting the book's creation process. 'I think it's interesting for the audience to see how you can create a story by starting from something that already exists and then you modify and regenerate it into something new.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Kalkidan Hoex

Kalkidan Hoex

'A third world', is how Kalkidan Hoex describes the jewellery universe she is creating. Another reality within the world we live in, based on the idea of philosopher Michel Foucault. This third world originates in her own identity, which has been shaped by her adoption background. When she was two years old, she came to the Netherlands from Ethiopia. It was a move that led to a lot of 'friction'; developments that were cut off abruptly, only to then continue somehow.

When Lions Learn to Swim is the project she has been working on this year. The lion as the proud symbol of Ethiopia and her ancestors, but also of herself, as a young girl who was taken to swimming and ice skating lessons by her enthusiastic Dutch parents. While it felt very unnatural and not fun at the time, she can now not even imagine not doing those things. 'These two different cultural sides will always cause shifts in how I perceive culture and identity. The work shows clearly how my background has shaped me as a maker. Given that I have to maintain my balance on this middle way, I find that I'm increasingly asking the public what culture is and whether having cultural influences from two cultures is actually a positive or a negative thing.'

The end result is a collection that is not made up of separate pieces of jewellery, but rather an installation where jewellery, both conceptual jewellery and jewellery that can be worn, goes hand in hand with photography, moving images, and illustrated fabrics. The sensory images that Hoex creates make the jewellery break free from the here and now and connect to ancestors and predecessors. The installation will be on display at Bar Bario in Amsterdam, during the OBSESSED! festival organised by the Current Obsession jewellery platform, and during the New York Jewelry Week.

Finally, the development year has also changed her as an instructor at the art academy where she works. She has abandoned the idea of what quality is or what it should be. Instead, she now prefers to ask, 'What you are trying to say with this and what are your next steps?' The idea of a canon is also something Hoex finds difficult: 'Sure, you need a basis, but it's far more important that you gather your own examples, especially there where you have your connections.' This is the kind of advice she wishes she had received when she was an art student. 'The realisation that how you do things is your most authentic way, is gold to me.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Lindsey van de Wetering

Lindsey van de Wetering

Lindsey van de Wetering completed her master's degree at Amsterdam's Academy of Architecture with the project Poku Oso, which sought to bring new life to the dilapidated Cultuurtuin (Culture Garden) in Paramaribo. This park was once used to test exotic plants and trees for use on plantations; today, is very existence is under threat due to neglect and reallocation of the land. Poku Oso's nature-inclusively designed bandstands were inspired by the techniques and aesthetics of instruments, and are intended to bring music to the park – not just as an accommodation for the conservatoire, but also as life-sized sound boxes played by nature itself. The project won Van de Wetering an Archiprix award, and she dreamed of realising at least one such bandstand in Paramaribo.

The Creative Industries Fund NL's talent development grant afforded her the opportunity to explore that dream. Travelling to Suriname, she encountered the Green Growth Suriname foundation, who asked her not only for input on the preservation of the Culture Garden, but also to help reflect on the importance of nature-inclusive building in a city plagued by the rising sea level. “In addition to upscaling one of the models, I have made contact with the people of Paramaribo in all kinds of ways, in order to identify their needs and build the future together,” says Van de Wetering.

One thing that stood out in that process was how hesitant many people in Suriname are to dream about the future: 'People are more focused on surviving in the here and now.' A workshop session at the Kinderuniversiteit (Children's University) opened the way for a visual research approach: making collages using photos and drawings makes it easier to dream. Van de Wetering wrote an essay on the subject, titled Dromen over Suriname 2043 (Dreaming About Suriname 2043), in which she not only explains, but also demonstrates the importance of imagination. 'By visualising thoughts, we can create a vision of the future, and such visions are necessary to be able to realise a transition. As far as that is concerned, there is a great need for design capacity in Suriname.'

Van de Wetering became an ambassador for the ecological organisation Forest93, gave lectures and workshops, and encouraged urban residents to create collages of the city of the future. Based on those sessions, she started making collages of her own as well, two of which will soon be on display at Podieum in Amsterdam West. 'This grant has also given me more room to rediscover art. I was always torn between choosing art school or architecture, but now I can bring the two together. I would like to continue telling stories using art, photography and film.'

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Line Arngaard

Line Arngaard

Line Arngaard studied Graphic Design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie from 2016 to 2018. Following graduation, she turned her focus to the research and development of projects at the intersection of graphic design and fashion. 'I am fascinated by the idea of fashion as a social virus that spreads a variety of aesthetic and cultural codes, which expresses itself in the way we look at things, how we dress and how we move. My aim is to make projects that through a conceptual approach to graphic design reflect deeply on fashion as an experiential, and not merely a representational, medium. Studying fashion and textile is something I take very seriously. For example, I find it interesting to examine the way in which times of crisis effect the way we dress. In this context one thing we always see is the return of patchwork, a technique that relates to female ingenuity, resilience, and thriftiness.'

Talking about her own development, Arngaard says: 'By studying patchwork and quilting techniques, I started to see them less as a purely fabric-oriented practice and more as a metaphor for work, a conceptual framework to create new images and tell stories. My main project, Piecing Pages, involves creating patchworks, but not in the traditional sense: it is more a way of thinking about how I can create randomly recycled images in textile, on paper or in other ways. These visual experiments will end up as part of a publication, along with texts that investigate how patchwork serves as a means of expression for women in different times.'
In her second project, Arngaard and her mentor, author Hanka van der Voet, research the Nationale Feestrok: a unifying campaign that provided thousands of Dutch women with clear instructions on how to create their own patchwork skirts in the years following World War II. Her third project is a workshop that centres around the creation of improvisational images in the medium of fabric, using classic patchwork techniques. 'Once the grant period has passed, there will undoubtedly be incomplete “patches” and new collaborations to pick up,' says Arngaard.

Concluding, she notes: 'This past year, I haven't just made things using the computer. I rediscovered that “thinking with your hands” really works. I want to hold on to that practice, because I've found that it has tremendous added value for my work.'

Text by Iris Stam
Maarten Brijker

Maarten Brijker

Maarten Brijker obtained his master's degree from the ArtScience Interfaculty, a joint programme offered by the Royal Academy of Art and the Royal Conservatoire of The Hague, in 2018. Brijker enjoys combining creative disciplines, and is therefore active in various capacities: as a music artist, as a composer and as a sound designer in the fields of dance and performance art, video and film. He also creates installations as a sound artist, which are displayed in museums. Brijker is hugely fascinated by the intimacy and power of sound. 'Music is something very physical to me,' he says. 'Some textures of sound, tonalities, are almost tangible. Certain frequencies literally touch your skin and can bring about physical effects. And by playing certain harmonies, you can convey emotions. In films, music is often a subtle yet powerful tool to evoke certain feelings in the audience.'

After graduating, Brijker began to collaborate extensively with other artists from a variety of disciplines. 'I experimented a lot to find my own voice and discover my qualities as an artist. Now, I feel that my practice has acquired a clear form and that I have a good understanding of who I am as a maker.'

The grant that Brijker received in the context of the Talent Platform has offered him the space and freedom to formulate a long-term study into the sensuality and tangibility of sound. He is also working to develop a VST audio plugin, combining his skills and knowledge in the area of music with programming. 'It is good to be able to take a year to focus my attention on this project. Learning how to use the programming language MaxMSP and developing the plugin is taking quite a bit of time – more than I initially expected.'

Brijker is working on a Max4Live plugin compatible with Ableton, a digital audio workstation used by many producers and musicians. 'I want to make my music tool available to as many people as possible. And to join people from the music community in the studio to see how they use my plugin. During this process, I want to publish a mini album of experimental club music under my stage name, Yon Eta. Probably electronic, something in the direction of soundscapes. The music release will probably be ready in 2024.'

Text by Iris Stam
Malik Saïb-Mezghiche

Malik Saïb-Mezghiche

Safi is aboard a jam-packed bus with a friend – the bus is so crowded that she was unable to check in when she got on. When a ticket inspection is carried out, things get out of hand: the inspectors force her to pay a hefty fine on the spot, and when she objects, they become aggressive. This two-minute animation is a small but deeply recognisable example for many people of the daily abuse of power by police and enforcement officers in the French banlieues, says Malik Saïb-Mezghiche. He personally grew up in a suburb of Lyon, where violent riots broke out this summer after the police shot and killed a seventeen-year-old boy in a Parisian suburb during a traffic check.

Saïb-Mezghiche wishes to use his animations to reach young people in similar situations. Having been exposed to it himself, he knows what racial violence can do to people mentally. The series he wants to create around this subject is partly aimed at creating a sense of recognition. The first step is therefore to portray these injustices and the frustration people feel about them. 'But I also want to bring about a shift in the way people think. It helps to know that you're not alone in this. Why do we all still accept it? What can we do to bring about a change?'

In La Porte du Dragon, Saïb-Mezghiche adds a dash of magic to reality. 'It's going to be a coming-of-age story in a fantasy world in which the sad stories of reality are given better endings.' This first clip is a proof of concept; in the coming weeks and months, he will seek investors for the series as a whole. Though originally trained as a graphic designer and art director, more recently Saïb-Mezghiche has invested heavily in his animation skills. At Project City he learned how to write scripts, create storyboards and develop characters. 'As a creator of images, writing dialogues doesn't come naturally to me. I don't want to resort to caricatures and cliches, so I am working with experienced actors – not just for motion, but also for the texts.'

Making and selling animations is a time-consuming process. 'Those initial two minutes represent no less than three months of work. And now I have to generate my own publicity to get other people interested enough to invest time and money in my project.' He has a plan for that, too: starting from September, he intends to kickstart the project by posting a one-minute animation every two weeks.

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Manal Aziz

Manal Aziz

Manal Aziz has a background as a psychologist, writer and interviewer. The works of this audiovisual maker centre around identity issues, the telling and sharing of stories in an inclusive way, and the impact of work at the social level and in the area of the environment. Manal focuses on sound and image, both still (photography) and moving. 'I also write,' says Aziz. 'My works are an audiovisual translation of the questions I ask of the world around me. I hope that encountering my work helps people feel that they too have room to question their own position in the world and society. In my opinion, there is nothing wrong with saying that we don't know or understand something: it creates room to learn, and we should do so much more often.'

Aziz was selected during the Scout nights. 'There were so many talented makers, my expectations were low. In all honesty, it took months for the realisation that I had been chosen to really settle in. As I am self-taught, being recognised in this way is very rewarding. The grant opened many doors for me, especially in how I view myself and my position as a maker. Receiving it was a wonderful thing, of course, but I have to say that it also put a certain pressure on me: a feeling of “it's now or never”. To some extent, that pressure is still with me now.'

As a person, Aziz is always moving between worlds. 'As a maker, too, I move back and forth between disciplines as part of my process. It's something that I want to investigate further this year, in material and process. That gave me the idea for a multimedia zine, combining digital elements with the physical form of a magazine. Content-wise, it might include wordcraft, photography and audio elements in the form of QR codes that grant access to a digital platform.'

The project sees Aziz joining forces with organisations and communities in the Netherlands and Morocco. During a residency in Marrakech, Aziz will dedicate his full efforts to material research for the zine. 'Good friends of mine have founded a platform in Marrakech that focuses on sustainability and experimentation, Khial Nkhel. They previously organised paper-making and printing workshops in their atelier. I am going to experiment with a variety of things, including natural, DIY techniques for photo printing using direct sunlight. I am a fairly analytically-minded person, so I'm looking forward to spending a month working primarily with my hands!'

Text by Iris Stam
Maren Bang

Maren Bang

For Maren Bang, the year following her graduation with a master's degree from Design Academy Eindhoven felt empty and lonely. 'Finding work was a struggle. I didn't want to start working for just any company, or something like that.' What Bang wanted to do more than anything else was to follow her artistic calling without compromise. But how? With help from environmental psychologist and coach Adeola Enigbokan, she took a deep-dive into herself. 'It was Adeola who encouraged me to do something with my theatre background.' Little by little, she came up with a method to boost her own practice. Bang developed traditional skills – woodcutting, working with ceramics, weaving, and 3D design/printing – not just for the sake of it, but to incorporate them into the concept of a 'fake open call'. It saw her do all the characters herself, ranging from woodcutter Ole Riemann, ceramicist Marion Nelé, 3D designer Nolan Meier, and weaver Norma Illene to curator Elma Norine and assistant curator Elenor Monira. All these names are anagrams of her own, Maren Oline Bang. The jury consisted of Bang's mentors Amanda Pinatih, Lucas Maassen, Oli Stratford and Alexandre Humbert.

This was how Bang combined various of her ambitions and was able to lose herself in the fun of making it. 'I find it hard to choose one direction. Organising and running an exhibition is something I find interesting, but I also want to be an artist. The fake open call brings it all together.' And it gave her full control, something that, like insecurity, is a prominent theme in her work. 'While my work is not functional like that of product designers, I still hesitate to call myself an 'artist'. By shaping my own ecosystem, I create the freedom to experiment and to seek myself as a maker, without fearing criticism or rejection.' This is what allowed the autonomous artist in Bang to come out over the past year. Laughingly: 'Whenever I made a mistake in the woodcutting, I'd just blame Ole. I developed his character during a residency at the Hjerleid crafts centre in Dovre in Norway. We have his character to thank for my dramatic woodcutting style.' Bang's theatre background came in very handy when it came to working out the characters. 'I believe in the effectiveness of performance as a production method. It allowed me to discover various facets of myself, for example.'

Bang came up with an institute that she worked out based on research and information from Amanda Pinatih (design curator at Amsterdam's Stedelijk Museum). 'Setting up a fictitious museum was such fun. The structures behind it fascinate me enormously.' Not just the characters, but also the institute itself got its own unique personality and costume. 'This lets me move my institute around by myself.' It doesn't get more autonomous than that!

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Margherita Soldati

Margherita Soldati

Exhaustion, rehabilitation, transformation, repair: these are some of the terms Margherita Soldati kept hearing during her recovery process following a burnout several years ago. And they are terms that she was all too familiar with, given her work in the reprocessing of textile waste. She found the similarity fascinating. 'I thought: if I spend all my time working on projects that tackle sustainability in textiles, why can't I do the same for the sustainability of my own brain?'

A worn-out favourite sweater formed the starting point of the project Alchemy of Resilience. She unravelled the body of the sweater but left the edges intact. Using a contrasting thread made of textile waste, she loosely reknitted the remaining parts together, so that the garment transformed into something new, and at the same time became a self-portrait. Soldati stresses that it is better to speak in terms of transformation than of reparation. 'When you ask someone to repair you and to be returned to the condition that you used to be in, you are asking something that is completely impossible, with adverse consequences.'

For this project she wanted to learn how to knit, both by hand and by machine. Partly during a residency at Lottozero in Prato, the famous Italian textile city and a pioneer in the field of textile recycling. She also started talking to the people working there in the industry, and the theme of burnout proved to be an effective conversation starter. During the year she organised several events to let people try their hand at knitting, and at the same time to talk to them. In the library of Tilburg's TextielMuseum, she explored the history of knitting as an artisan practice that brings people together, and thus helps to create and reinforce communities. Soldati is eager to develop this social aspect in her practice.

In the coming period, she will be showing the outcomes of her project in various places and different ways; for instance in the display window of EM Studio/Gallery and in an exhibition in W139, both in Amsterdam and in collaboration with artist Hanna Steenbergen-Cockerton. During the exhibition in W139, there will be a workplace where people can knit and of course talk together. Soldati finds it important to make the theme of burnout visible, also within the cultural sector where it happens frequently. The financial security provided this year was a relief: 'It gave me enough time to work in the right way.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Mario Gonsalves

Mario Gonsalves

'I want to make Disney for our people.' This is the goal Mario Gonsalves had in mind when he submitted his application for a talent development grant. In 2019, he graduated from HKU University of the Arts in Utrecht with a bachelor's degree in Audiovisual Media. His graduation project was a film called Patroon, which tells the coming-of-age story of a young man called Malik who moved with his mother from the Caribbean Island of Curaçao to Amsterdam's Bijlmer district. The story is told from the perspective of three types of relationships, i.e. with his mother, with his friends, and his first love. The film shows how the path towards adulthood is full of obstacles for young people with a migration background.

Where Patroon is based on his personal memories of setbacks and pain, in his next projects Gonsalves wants to focus on creating stories, characters, and designs that will enable people from the Caribbean to also dream and shape their own environment. To accomplish his goal, he explored new fields and learned new skills. He learned to use Rhino, a 3D drawing program for parametric designing, through a three-week course at AA School for Architecture in London, and he attended an 'active wood bending' workshop.

He started by exploring gentrification and architecture on the Caribbean islands. Tourism is an important source of income here, resulting in waterfronts lined with unattractive colossal hotels that are often box-shaped for economic reasons. Aside from those hotels, there are resorts that cater to more affluent tourists, for which nature conservation areas have had to make way in some cases. According to Gonsalves, Caribbean authorities' short-sighted approach to tourism is harmful for the region and its population. In his photographic work, he uses a fish as a symbol of something that has a holy status on the islands on the one hand, but is also killed for survival on the other. The same paradox also exists in how nature is damaged for the benefit of economic development, including tourism.

His study will be presented as a manual for designers who work in the Caribbean. 'Many designers are stuck in the reality and frameworks within which they are used to doing their work. With my proposal, I want to put people and culture first again in the design mindset.' His manual is an invitation to other designers: 'Build on it.'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Martijn Holtslag

Martijn Holtslag

Painstakingly cutting loose one troll to glue it onto another. A medieval city of varied houses and roofs, every stone cut out by hand. Even when miniature construction was still just a hobby for Martijn Holtslag, he already strayed off the beaten path of tabletop wargames: while these centre on dice and rule-based play, Holtslag was more interested in creating his own worlds. That hobby has grown somewhat out of hand since then: his collection of hand-painted figurines and miniature landscapes is enough to fill an exhibition gallery.

Experimentation and unconventional connections are central elements in Holtslag's works. His practice is diverse, comprising not just miniatures but also music and film. He used part of the development year to define his practice: 'In my head, it was always boundless. Now, it is increasingly: this is what I do, this is what it can do, and that is what I can achieve with it.'

This can lead to interesting crossovers between disciplines, media and elements. Presently, Holtslag is collaborating with a programmer to build an interactive model of a waterfall. Behing the waterfall is a cave with a water surface in the form of an LED screen. By constantly placing different elements on the screen and then projecting images onto them produces scenes in and around the water.

Holtslag is fascinated by landscape elements such as caves, islands and waterfalls, and likes to share that fascination with nature lovers and game designers. Why do elements such as these appeal so strongly to our imagination? What makes a landscape beautiful? What does Paradise look like? What kind of stories can a landscape tell? Questions such as these are what Holtslag's works explore.

Holtslag also used the past year to develop the thematic aspects of his works. In the world of miniatures, landscapes are often connected with a greater narrative – a story from history, the fantasy world or science fiction. History, too, is an inexhaustible source of inspiration for Holtslag. 'But those stories are often so much bigger than a single landscape can capture. A landscape is more suited to capturing a moment.' Thematic research led to new questions. 'Because of my background in fantasy landscapes, I wanted to investigate whether I could really make this into an art. The more time you spend creating, the more you start asking yourself: what is it really all about?'

Text by Roosmarijn Hompe
Matilde Patuelli

Matilde Patuelli

Matilde Patuelli is a social designer who examines social constructions, human interaction and how we experience reality. In her current design practice, she is researching to what extent she can incorporate Live Action Role-Playing into her work as a narrative and experience-focused tool.

'During my studies, I began sketching out the “Methodology of Ambiguity”, which investigates ways to express feelings we cannot put into words through visualisation, materialisation and embodiment. My goal was to study LARP as a co-creative tool for interaction, narration and exchange. The idea of LARPing is for players to enter the “magical circle” of the game and agree to reside in a different reality, giving them an alibi that allows them to behave in ways that would otherwise hit too close to home, or instead feel too foreign. This ambiguous space for transformation and safe exploration is what fascinated me and inspired me to incorporate gamification into my practice.'

What Patuelli finds so interesting about LARPing is that the players continuously manipulate and shift the narrative, as a result of which the outcome is different every time the game is played. 'I also integrated that aspect into the workshops and activities that I have developed.'

'I started this research year by joining the Transformative Play Initiative. These lessons gave me theoretical knowledge and a basis that I could use to start experimenting for myself. Throughout the year I took part in valuable learning opportunities that crossed my path, such as Als ik in jouw schoenen stond (“If I Were in Your Shoes”), in Slovenia, where I practiced using the theatre techniques of the Theatre of the Oppressed. At the LARP conference Knutepunkt23 in Denmark, I had the honour of presenting the workshop Visualising, Manifesting, Embodying your Queer Resistance in collaboration with anthropologist Cosmo Esposito. And at a summer camp in Greece about urban game design, Trust in Play, and the College of Extraordinary Experiences in Poland, I had the opportunity to explore non-verbal LARPing.'

'My focus this year was on learning, research and application by means of experimental workshops and collaborations. In the coming months, I want to continue feeding the playful networks into which I was welcomed and to transform the theory into a physical result.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Moreno Schweikle

Moreno Schweikle

The three goals that designer Moreno Schweikle set himself this year all come together in the immersive exhibition he opened in Cologne in August. 'I wanted to broaden my material and technical knowledge, expand my network, and develop myself in a new area. I make autonomous objects at the intersection of sculpture, furniture and installation, and I wanted to take this year to explore whether I could apply my work to spaces and places.' Much to his delight, it worked out very well. 'The relationship between spaces and objects interests me. I think it's great that this can also be part of my work.'

While exploring this new avenue, Schweikle found three interesting books on different types of sculptures, how they work and what they mean. He discovered that his work ties in with the assemblies and readymades we know from pop art and Dada. He also learned more about that through his contacts with art historian Wladyslaw Barion. 'I met artists, journalists, designers, and gallery owners this year with whom I could discuss my work. This gave me a lot of confidence.' Although he was initially not thrilled with the pop art comparison, he does acknowledge that there is an overlap. Just like pop art, he uses existing and banal products, albeit without wanting to elevate them to icons. Schweikle: 'I was always curious about mass-produced objects and I reflect on their function by modifying them.'

Along the way, Schweikle also stumbled on a new material: clay. 'It was like a revelation. Normally, the results of my digital designs and 3D models are somewhat artificial and “cold”, but it's not like that with clay.' Schweikle likes to work with the contrasts between the industrial and the organic, making his work a bridge between these two realms. 'Clay is ideal for that, as an “intermediate material” made of water and stone.' In his exhibition he applied elements from contemporary culture to the space. He used industrial materials to make a vertical 'river' on the window. 'I initially thought of it as a wave, but as I was creating it the wave became a river. It benefited the installation, but it is always a challenge for me to deviate from my initial design and to slacken the reins during the process.' During a small, spontaneous group exhibition this year, he did not have any time to make digital designs, so Schweikle had no choice but to go by his intuition alone. 'As a result, the work became much more the outcome of a process than the execution of an idea.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Myrthe Krepel

Myrthe Krepel

Performative designer Myrthe Krepel creates interventions using language, the body and theatre, often in non-artistic contexts. In her new project, Het kamertje, the focus is on a societal theme: the imbalance of power between the government and the people.

The project began with reading a substantial number of books on the subjects of power and discipline. Since Krepel's own education is scientific and linguistic in nature, having obtained a master's degree in Design for Interaction at Delft University of Technology in 2018, she wanted to do something that involved her body as well: power, after all, is something that can also be felt. To that end, she took dance and performance workshops at Amenti in Rotterdam.

'When people want to change something in an organisation in a creative way, they often end up choosing a workshop format. That makes the participants feel inspired, but afterwards they simply return to the daily grind. A performance, however, can truly form an intervention. It stays with people, it encourages taking action, and it enables you to play with social structures – how you move, what you say,' Krepel states. She applied this with the government in the Dialogue and ethics programme, set up following the childcare benefits scandal. 'The official language that policymakers use creates distance, and often acts as a substitute for action,' says Krepel. She had policymakers choose a word that is important in their work, such as integrity or comradeship, and translate it into an instruction for a performance. It proved to be a confrontational exercise, revealing how utterly their language has become divorced from action, and how words are being used without any knowledge or sense of what they mean.

Finally: Het kamertje is a title that intentionally evokes associations with office of the prime minister of the Netherlands. This interactive performance, of which a try-out has already been held as part of the Co-Co festival at Sectie-C, deals with complex social structures – although a bit tongue-in-cheek, with light-hearted and theatrical aspects. A version worked out in more detail will be presented during the Dutch Design Week, in a performance wherein the post-new normal is sustained by people who have comparable jobs in daily life. The concept includes a booklet, Regels Vormgeven, containing ten rules to change the tone of our coexistence. The mildly absurd performance focuses on the status quo that we all maintain together, and which structures and rules we really want to keep.

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Noëlle Ingeveldt

Noëlle Ingeveldt

What would the Netherlands look like with big mammals tramping through our carefully manicured landscapes? That's what Noëlle Ingeveldt wonders, co-founder of audiovisual art studio Berkveldt with film maker Juriaan van Berkel. The artist/designer performs scientific research into the possibility of future bear populations in the Netherlands. In her speculative project Bear Country, Ingeveldt hopes to stimulate vital discussions about the coexistence of humans and animals and to build support, so that the government can prepare proper measures before bears actually migrate to the Netherlands. It is a real possibility, after all: climate change and deforestation are forcing bears to spread throughout Europe. 'With its many fruit trees, the Netherlands is an attractive feeding ground during the summer,' Ingeveldt suspects.

A graduate of the Gerrit Rietveld Academy and holder of a master's degree in Interior Architecture: Research + Design from the Piet Zwart Institute, Ingeveldt has previous experience with studying artificial nature. She is fascinated by the complex relationship between man, animal and landscaping. 'I want to tell stories about the role of mankind in a natural system from a non-human perspective, to show how people should behave in order to redress the balance.'

In Bear Country, the two designers take viewers on a fascinating artistic journey. Their journey in a converted Dacia Loga passes through Romania, Austria, Italy and Switzerland, countries where bears are once again at home. The largest population of bears currently lives in Romania, where they have been a protected species since 2016. Italy, meanwhile, shipped in bears from Slovenia to strengthen its own dwindling population. 'What can we learn from these countries before this predator comes to the Netherlands?'

The objects and 3D scans collected along the way will be combined with insights obtained from interviews with biologists, ecologists, environmental philosophers, bear experts, beekeepers, shepherds and other people to tell a non-linear story. This will take the form of an immersive installation and a documentary. Van Berkel is a skilled coder and Ingeveldt took a course in scriptwriting, 3D animation and design using Blender. Her coach was interaction and media designer Olivier Otten. This project about finding harmony between humankind and the European bear population was launched in TENT Rotterdam and will, if all goes according to plan, be presented at festivals in the future.

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Nohaila Gamah

Nohaila Gamah

Director and scriptwriter Nohaila Gamah studied Film & Sociology at Amsterdam University College. She lives and breathes storytelling. A descendant of the Amazigh ('free people'), one of the oldest nomadic people in Morocco, she explains with audible passion that 'entertainment is in my family's blood. Whenever something funny or unusual had happened, my aunts would tell the story while putting on different voices, imitating the gestures and movements of whoever they were talking about and making use of scarves and other props.'

Gamah's films are characterised by gut-felt social commentary. 'I consider it important to shine a light on certain normative structures, structures that we invented ourselves or that were imposed on us by others. About what we should be like and how we should live as women, men, people in this world. I want to use my films to create room and break open those suffocating pigeonholes that we never really fit into anyway. So that we start asking ourselves why we do what we do.'

In the style and storylines of her films, Gamah uses impulse, intuition and genre-crossing. 'I am always looking for something innovative and different, something that the viewer does not necessarily expect, but which does appeal to our emotions. And I also like to mix genres, such as drama, horror, comedy and fantasy.'

For her current film project, Gamah among other researched the topic of Female Gaze in Horror. 'The horror genre is interesting in that it has created room for female characters to be more than just an object of lust or a wife whose purpose is contingent on a male character. This genre allows me to investigate the deeper, darker layers of the female psyche.'

Gamah finds it fascinating to use her films to study the deeper layers of the mind and the monstrous aspects of humanity through different characters and from different perspectives. 'Because it shows the feelings that we have inside us but cannot always share or understand where they come from.'

'I will never stop developing as a director,' Gamah concludes. 'Recently, I have been focusing not just on Afro-Surrealism, Female Gaze in Horror, and Intergenerational Trauma, but also on writing and rewriting. I have dived in very deep, to feel it, to understand the characters. That takes a lot of energy, but it is also an interesting process. I want to understand what truly lies at the core. That's how the characters come to life, on their own. And that is what you ultimately want as a director.'

Text by Iris Stam
Nóra Békés

Nóra Békés

Library of Narrative Types is a design research project into cultural-historical narratives in typography and letter designs. Nóra Békés started her project with a study of the Roman script, also referred to as capitalis monumentalis since it only consists of capital letters, used for example to carve inscriptions in stone. Our modern capital letters are derived from this script.

Békés combines an interest in letter designs with visual storytelling and design history. She is converting her interpretation of the Roman script into a contemporary font. The theoretical questions that emerge over the course of the process will be captured in fictitious stories – which is highly unusual in the world of typography. 'Letters communicate. There are so many stories contained in them, they are the carriers of messages,' she says. 'As a designer, I immediately notice the feeling within a letter. I am aware of what the letters represent. There are stories hidden inside; for instance, inside this Roman script are the stories of the enslaved people who had to labour in the stone quarries and often died because it was so hard.' As the designer personally experienced as part of her research: 'Carving letters in stone is also hard work, but at the same time a fascinating discipline that requires a lot of knowledge and focus.'

As she originally hails from Hungary, Békés performed much of her research into the Roman script there. Once upon a time, when this area was part of the Roman Empire, the script was also used here, and carved stones continue to be found today. She discovered that the Roman script encompasses various styles. 'I was pleasantly surprised to discover the diversity of letter shapes. Letters were often cruder or more peculiar in the periphery than the familiar letters seen in inscriptions in Rome, for instance on Trajan's Column. It's also interesting to see how the letters change throughout time, resulting in a wide variety.'

The study of Roman letters is the first chapter in the Library of Narrative Types and establishes Békés's method of investigate and narrative design. After this she will continue by designing a monospace font. All her findings, texts and designs are presented on a steadily growing platform.

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Paul Coenen

Paul Coenen

Creating designs for his own show in Paris, professionalizing and engaging in more commercial collaborations: just a few targets that designer Paul Coenen had set for himself this year. Reshaping turned out to be the theme of the year. 'A major goal of mine was to learn hydroforming, which is a specialized industrial technique to reshape steel tubes by pumping high-pressure water through them.' Coenen is particularly fascinated by the interaction between man and machine, which also characterises his own work. 'Parts of my works are laser-cut and machine-folded, but I put everything together by hand.'

Coenen makes smaller products as well as grand furniture for high-end galleries. The seemingly simple shapes and steel plate that he uses reveal his interest in materialization and modern production techniques. 'This year, I wanted to take my limited editions for galleries to a higher level. The result was a grand show in Paris, with five new works. The high steel prices meant that the required investment was significant, but it was worth it. I had been working towards it since my graduation.'

In recent years, Coenen has worked on improved versions of his graduation piece at Design Academy Eindhoven. 'The underlying vision hasn't changed, but certain complex technical details have been better thought out. My understanding of the material is getting better and better, and I was able to perfect my designs. That is the most enjoyable part, it's like scoring victory after victory against yourself.'

The show in Paris boosted Coenen's confidence and his business. 'I wanted to design for other brands, and that's something I have managed to do this year as well, with two new collaborations.' Meanwhile, Coenen also worked with four other designers and an investor to establish an American furniture brand. It has become a major project with a lot of potential. 'With our local production site in North Carolina and a material-minded vision, we can make a difference in the American market.'

Though somewhat sceptically at first, Coenen also hired a coach this past year, and the decision paid off with valuable insights. 'It helped to take a good look at my finances, but also to make smarter choices in what to say yes and no to. For the first time I can dedicate myself to my own practice full-time, without having all kinds of jobs on the side. Thanks to that, it feels like everything came together this year.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Paul Kuijpers

Paul Kuijpers

Voor trendwatcher en ontwerper Paul Kuijpers, sinds 2018 alias dragqueen Cindy van der Loan, is drag een multidisciplinaire expressie waarin design, performance en fashion samenkomen in één verhaal. Hierbij laat hij zich inspireren door de suikerzoete Hollywood glamour; hij houdt van glans en glitter.

Dat uit zich onder andere in de theatershow voor de opening van de Let's talk about Sex-themamaand van het Parktheater Eindhoven, waarvoor hij werd gevraagd toen hij net met zijn talentontwikkelingsproject was begonnen. In samenwerking met regisseur Lenneke Maas en DayDayGay, een organisatie voor queercultuur in Eindhoven waar Kuijpers sinds de oprichting in 2017 deel van uitmaakt, ontwikkelde hij de show Come (as Sensitive) as You Are. Hierin wordt gevoeligheid in een geïndividualiseerde samenleving onderzocht. Een buitenkans waar Kuijpers, onder directie van Maas, zijn artistieke leiderschap binnen het theater verder kon ontwikkelen.

Die ervaringen en zijn expertise als trendwatcher gebruikt Kuijpers nu voor zijn project tijdens een residency bij het internationale platform New Order of Fashion in Eindhoven. 'Hier onderzoek ik hoe drag duurzamer kan. Onder begeleiding van ontwerper Valentine Tinchant leer ik naaitechnieken en ontwerpmethodes met een focus op upcycling.' Zo wil hij van zijn grote hoeveelheid kledingstukken een nieuwe capsulecollectie samenstellen die beter aansluit bij zijn professionele ontwikkeling. Een van de drie nieuwe looks is een outfit met een top, gemaakt van de leren motorbroek van zijn moeder. Ook op het gebied van performance ontwikkelt Kuijpers zich door vogue- en waacking-lessen te volgen bij professioneel danser en choreograaf Shahin Damka.

Kuijpers is opgegroeid in een klein dorp waar het begrip queer of drag niet 'bestond'. Hij verkleedde zich als kind in groep 2 al het liefst in een bruidsjurk, maar pas tegen zijn negentiende ontdekte hij wat drag was en dat dit voor hem een heuse optie was. 'Al sinds ik klein was had ik een obsessie met lang haar. Met haar werken is een van de meest inspirerende dingen om te doen', zegt de ontwerper, die met het oog op duurzaamheid ook zelf pruiken wil leren maken.

Intussen treedt Kuijpers regelmatig op als Cindy van der Loan. 'Ik vind het belangrijk om te laten zien dat drag onderdeel is van de culturele scene en een podium verdient. In Eindhoven zijn de uitgaansgelegenheden voornamelijk gericht op het mainstream publiek. Dat mag wel wat diverser', vindt hij.

Tekst door Viveka van de Vliet
Pernilla Philip

Pernilla Philip

Pernilla Manjula Philip's roots lie in South Africa and Sweden. She studied at the Sandberg Institute, obtaining her master's degree in Design in 2021. As a social designer, her focus lies on investigating the accessibility of medical treatment, searching for new forms of collective care and questioning the concept of health within society. Her project, which continues on from earlier work, centres around hacking and medical management. She is especially interested in communities of people who are investigating how they can manage their own medical treatments through forms of hacking and tinkering. This raises other issues as well, for example: what is safety? Whose safety is being prioritised? 'When people see the true problem behind open source medical solutions, it will become clear that there is still a lot of work to do,' says Manjula Philip.

The story told is based on Manjula Philip's own experiences with using open source code to reprogram her insulin pump. 'In my work, I experiment with different approaches to share my experiences.' Her current project, Post Purpose Pump station, is an installation in which she invites visitors to reconsider their own stories about unconventional and unofficial treatments. 'Self-diagnosis, tinkering and hacking medical technology is an active practice for many among us who are dependent on the biomedical industrial system.'

In her project, Manjula Philip also challenges data ownership. 'Who possesses my data, who can use it, and what is it used for?' In that context, she recently visited the Wellcome Collection in London, and participated in a try-out workshop and a mentorship session with artist Jesse Darling and writer, media analyst and culture critic Flavia Dzodan. The talent development grant has enabled Manjula Philip to further develop her ideas and develop new forms of experimentation, as well as afforded her the unique opportunity to push her practice in a direction that is meaningful for her at this time.

Text by Iris Stam
Pim Boreel

Pim Boreel

'A deep dive into the complexity of the ocean,' is how audio artist Pim Boreel describes last year's research project, under the title: Aquapocalyps. Boreel studied the extremity and fragility of the system, with special attention for deep sea mining. It is a topical issue, given how the world is on the verge of permitting this type of mining on a commercial scale, as part of the green energy transition. 'Or will we learn from our previous mistakes in time, which have led to the exhaustion of land and people?'

In his research, Boreel relies on his intuition, on 'algorithmic crossovers', and his interest in 'ecological holism'. He maps out the diversity and mutual interdependency of underwater life: the different zones and communities, the food chain, and so on. He also looked for signs of human impact on underwater life, such as pollution, the constant bombardment of sound waves, and the stifling sediment plumes as a result of mining raw materials from the ocean floor. He brought together all the found materials in his own 'oceanic database' – ranging from scientific articles to (pop) songs inspired by the ocean, underwater footage, videos and spectrograms. This interdisciplinarity is what Boreel describes as 'algorithmic crossovers': a network of theoretical, material and artistic information about the deep sea.

Boreel also produced a 'mix tape': a sketch for a musical composition consisting of music samples and sounds collected, recorded and composed in the past period. The musical piece draws the listener increasingly further underwater, towards the ocean floor. Along the way we are accompanied by singing whales, but also by the peeps of human underwater communication and the ominous droning of machines. By creating this world, Boreel hopes to stimulate empathy and the imagination regarding the ocean, and hence to link together science, emotions, and the necessary behavioural change among people.

Another important focus point this year was to position his wide-ranging practice. Besides 'deep research', his practice spans art, media and music, each with its own audience and community. He formulated the steps that he could take in the coming years to arrive at 'the intersecting points' between his various practices. By contemplating what direction to take, he realized that he wants to have more time and opportunity to delve deeper still. That is why he has enrolled for the two-year master programme Artificial Times at the Sandberg Instituut; yet another leap into the deep.

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Siddharth Pathak

Siddharth Pathak

'I'm a practical artist: give me any kind of material and I'll work with it.' During the Covid pandemic, Siddharth Pathak only had a keyboard and a laptop at his disposal, so sound became his means of expression. Last year, he expanded his 'sonic universe.' He focused on five themes around sound art to further shape his autodidactic practices and his role as a performer.

The first thing Pathak did was strike up a collaboration with glassblower Selma Hamstra. Together they made ten glass objects that should function as resonance chambers, or sound objects. He is now considering two ways to make this happen. It can be done electronically by equipping the objects with light-sensitive sensors that activate a sound database when light is shone onto them by a light-emitting device that he can hold in his hands. This would make the glass a performing, motion-directed instrument that he does not even have to touch to play it. The second option is mechanical: the objects would then be balanced between two parallel rods with wheels, driven by a motor. By filling the glass shapes with different materials or substances (sand, water), different sounds will be heard when the objects rotate. This rotating motion is also a great reference to the constant turning that is so typical of the glassblowing process.

Pathak has organised his year around different mentors. Besides the glassblowing, he worked with instrument inventor Rafaele Andrade and artist Ronald van der Meijs, who makes analogue sound installations. With media artist Heidi Hörsturz, Pathak roamed the streets of Rotterdam to record different sounds, from the tunnel under the river Meuse to the city's Museumpark. These sounds will form the basis for new compositions. 'I'm a sound seeker and I love nothing more than sounds,' he says. 'The most beautiful sound in the world is the sound of birds singing, equalled only by the sound of streaming water.'

All these learning experiences now have to blend together into a performance featuring glass objects where he – again with the help of a mentor – explores the aspect of duration, the final focus point in his research into sound art. 'It's only because of the Fund that I even got a chance to develop this idea and to challenge myself. Without any expectations as to what will happen, but just to see how it unfolds and what my learning journey turns out to be.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Sophia Holst

Sophia Holst

During Covid times, architect Sophia Holst lived in Brussels and became more critical of her environment than before. An unoccupied building caught her eye. She looked into it and found out that it had been listed for renovation for some time. After finding the renovation plans, she took a closer interest in the housing situation in the city. She later did the same in Rotterdam and Amsterdam. 'What stood out to me in particular were the renovation projects for social housing. Why do renovations always lead to a reduction in the number of public housing units? What happens to the residents? And how do they experience being forced out of their familiar living environment?'

These questions were the starting point for the plan that Holst submitted to the Creative Industries Fund. With Housing Pain, Healing Strategies, she proposes alternative renovation strategies based on her own research. These strategies do not see people removed from their local communities, and they respect the existing social and architectural context.

For her project, she teamed up with a journalist, various members of protest organizations, building renovation experts, and residents. Holst: 'I wanted to give a voice to the people who have had to move and were unable to return or people who may potentially find themselves in this kind of situation. In the Nieuw-West district of Amsterdam, residents have united in the Nieuw West in Verzet group. They are rising up against housing corporations that are going against the best interest of many of their own tenants by gearing their renovations towards future wealthy residents that will yield more profits. Thanks to the perseverance of this residents' committee and their protests, they managed to strike a deal with their housing association. Tenants are at loggerheads with housing associations and landlords in many more places. And for young people and future generations, it is becoming virtually impossible to find an affordable home in the neighbourhoods they grew up in. The fact that especially people with a migration background are moved to the outer periphery of the city or are completely unable to find housing in the city reminds me of how we treated guest workers back in the 1970s. Besides this renovation case study in Amsterdam Nieuw-West, I do archival research to put together an historic framework of possible discrimination in intra-urban migration as a result of urban renewal and housing policy.'

Text by Maaike Staffhorst
Steef Offerhaus

Steef Offerhaus

An ode to rave culture, the night owls and all the other people in the entertainment scene who fall outside of the generally accepted norm. That is the core of the project of illustrator and autonomous designer Steef Offerhaus. Raves have negative associations: they are illegal parties where people use drugs. At least, Offerhaus notes, that is how the dominant view would have it – a view that he refutes based on his own experiences. 'The atmosphere at such parties is very accessible, and the people are caring. These parties emerge as a countermovement to the above-ground entertainment scene, which offers little room for certain genres and lacks the freedom to go as crazy as you want to. That's why people look for illegal alternatives.'

Offerhaus studied illustration at HKU University of the Arts in Utrecht for two years, after which he designed album covers, clothing, posters and clips for hip hop artists. His ambitions, however, were to do less commercial work and make more creative and autonomous works for himself. He developed the concept From the Cradle to the Rave, including a personally designed clothing collection and zine. And of course, such a project would not be complete without a rave that brings everything together. 'A rave in the Maassilo in Rotterdam, with a few thousand partygoers, awesome DJs, strobes, models on stage wearing my clothing collection, and my own visuals, followed by an exhibition in Amsterdam with photos and films,' is the ideal that he has in mind.

Offerhaus has since completed his preliminary investigation into rave culture. What is this culture, when you get down to it? Ravers and skaters do not form a clearly demarcated group with a single overarching mentality; one might describe them as defiant, uncompromising free spirits. Offerhaus interviewed people whose choices in life were influenced by the rave scene, or who have done theoretical research. He also listened to podcasts, viewed films and documentaries and read news articles.

Gabbers with shaved heads wearing tracksuits and Nikes were a familiar feature in Offerhaus's own youth, which is why his collection consists of these particular clothing articles, with prints that reference classical art. 'I am selecting expressionist masterpieces that were controversial in their time and, like the rave scene, had a one-dimensional stigma forced upon them. I will then use my own handwriting to turn these into colourful graphics worn by models and captured by photographer Lois Cohen.'

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Stephanie Idongesit Ete

Stephanie Idongesit Ete

Architect and design researcher Stephanie Idongesit Ete graduated from Amsterdam's Academy of Architecture in 2021. The goal of her work, which consists in researching designs aimed at the built environment in the Sub-Sharan African context, is storytelling – stories told through the language of architecture and experienced by reading the architectural context. Idongesit Ete explains: 'There is so much to learn and experience about any place from its built environment, by learning to understand how the society, culture and complex history is reflected in the built environment. I want my work to emphasise this in the African context, to make this easier to read for other architects, students and designers.'

This year, Idongesit Ete will undertake a research expedition to Lagos, Accra, Dakar and Abidjan, where she wishes to more closely observe and record the local material culture. She eagerly explains why she chose these West-African coastal settlements specifically: 'I am fascinated by the expansion of urban life along the coast and the agglomeration of multiple West African cities, and curious about the spatial similarities and differences between these concentrated coastal urban areas. Dakar struck me as the most logical choice among this expanse, and Abidjan seemed like a good choice due to its cultural similarities with Accra and geomorphological similarities with Lagos. I am also curious about the differences and similarities between Francophone and Anglophone West Africa and how this might influence the architecture of these cities.'

Idongesit Ete has already completed her visits to Dakar and Abidjan, where she spent 17 and 22 days, respectively. 'In Dakar, I visited a brick factory and a tapestry factory to see their influence on the built environment. I explored many different parts of the city and met a wide range of makers, designers and architects, which gave me a good understanding of the local professional practice and to expand my network. The same happened in Abidjan, although on a smaller scale: I met a number of architects and visited projects in various stages of construction.'

Further new impressions and encounters await in Accra and Lagos. Idongesit Ete's schedule in these cities includes workshops and curated events. All of Idongesit Ete's findings in West Africa will come together in a production entitled Anthology of Collages, a compilation of artistically interpreted observations – made with the help of artist Aàdesokan – that could serve as a basis for future research or construction projects in the cities Idongesit Ete has visited. 'After the research phase, the next step is to generate publicity and present the results,' says Idongesit Ete. 'To figure out how I can present the results in a way that is meaningful for others.'

Text by Iris Stam
Sunjoo Lee

Sunjoo Lee

Sunjoo Lee designs tools, sensory robots and video art installations in which technology and ecology meet. 'I create a hybrid world in which advanced technology forms a vital mediator between humans and nature.' Lee is currently working on two research projects out in nature. For Terra Invasion she observes coastal birds in the Netherlands' northern Wadden Sea and in the Yellow Sea between China and South Korea. She also compares ecological systems. Lee gains advice from artists Mark IJzerman and Sema Bekirovic.

Lee performed a residency on South Korean mud flats. This enormous tidal region has a natural value comparable to that of the Dutch Wadden Sea. She observes the tide and various sorts of crabs. In the Wadden Sea she works with ecologist Allert Bijleveld and his team to observe migrating birds. Why birds? 'In the city, people and birds share the same habitat. They are not pets, but I can observe them. I'm fascinated by the long distances that birds travel twice a year to spend winter elsewhere. Like the cuckoos, which fly ten thousands of kilometres from South Korea to East Africa.'

For her Wadden Sea project, Lee found inspiration in a nighttime boat trip to the Griend bird reserve, where birds are ringed so that their movements can be monitored. She drew on the experience of being in the pitch dark with a flock of birds, the waves and the wind, the saline smell of the sea and bioluminescent algae, to create a multi-sensory art work with image and sound and the migration data collected by scientists, for which she also developed an algorithm. 'The connection and overlap between people and nature is made visible. We observe the birds who fly over our cities and villages, but you can also look at it the other way round: they observe us from high above!'

Lee developed Tree-001 with designers Timm Donke and Seokyung Kim. This project observes an oak tree in a forest throughout the course of its life, using a livestream. Here again, Lee brings together two worlds. While the livestream consumes lots of data at a high speed, the tree grows very slowly and can live for a thousand years. To use the technology in a responsible manner, Lee is investigating how to make the livestream eco-friendlier and less costly. She obtains license-free radio frequencies through open source technology. She is also developing methods to generate electricity from soil, where microbes break down organic material and thereby produce free electrons, which can be used to power a camera. The experiment with 'harvested energy', stored in a battery, will be presented at the 2023 Dutch Design Week.

Text by Viveka van de Vliet
Taya Reshetnik

Taya Reshetnik

'The stories that semi-public places have to tell intrigue me. The urban environment continually influences us, even if it often does so in subconscious ways,' says multidisciplinary designer Taya Reshetnik. Her interests lie in the visualisation of those stories, which she does to show how the design, use and perception of public space is always changing. To that end, she does not use static images or documentaries, but video collages that employ cleverly interwoven fragments to tell fictional stories based on historical fact.

Reshetnik is fascinated by places where people are passing through, such as airports and train stations, particularly the area between the points of arrival and departure. 'It's a kind of limbo that nevertheless has a strong impact on our identities and our quality of life.' During her studies, she encountered a story about a person who spent no less than 87 days at Schiphol airport during the 1960s. This was not something that you were supposed to do, but, as this traveller proved, that did not mean that it was not possible. Last year, Reshetnik went back to this story. 'In what ways can such an event change our perceptions about an airport?'

She began gathering information about the incident and the environment in which it occurred. The person in question was Yvonne Paul, a Dutch citizen whose lack of a residency permit had seen her deported to the Netherlands from the USA. Upon her arrival at Schiphol, she decided not to leave the airport. Reshetnik searched for witnesses, dug through archives, combed the internet and made contact with architectural historian Isabel van Lent, co-author of a book about the design of Schiphol in those days. 'I interviewed her about that for my video project, to get a better idea of the environment during those long days at the airport.' At present, Reshetnik is conducting anthropological research into rites of passage, in which she sees parallels with transit areas.

Using archive footage, her own filmed material and photos, newspaper articles and home-made 3D visuals, Reshetnik is now puzzling out the narrative, experimenting along the way with various new technologies and plugins that enable the projection of 2D photos onto 3D digital landscapes, to give one example. After the summer, she will sit down with a sound designer to work out the soundscape. 'Right now, I am still very much in the middle of editing, it's really a work in progress. The publication of the result is scheduled for October.'

Tekst by Willemijn de Jonge
The Nightmare Disorder

The Nightmare Disorder

They sat across from the 'mother of fantasy costumes', Jany Temime, who designed the costumes for six Harry Potter films and House of the Dragon. 'I don't really understand why you're here,' she said, referring to the previous successes of designer duo The Nightmare Disorder. Beni Nijenhuis and Nemo Cheminée's costume for the performance of The Countess in the series Drag Race Holland caused a furore in the drag queen community. 'That was awesome,' says Nijenhuis, 'because with drag queens, it's all about character building. We much prefer to create complete characters than fill stores with fashion.' He recounts how the duo found each other early on, bonding over their passion for fictional dream worlds during their studies at ArtEZ. They are fascinated by the subconscious, and they would love to bring it to life for a bigger audience: in short, the world of fantasy films beckons.

In order to woo that branch of the film industry, they are now working on a portfolio collection. This began with months of research and practice. They visited London, where they not only bombarded Jany Temime with questions, but also explored the costume collections of various museums, such as the Victoria and Albert Museum, drawing inspiration from the royal costumes of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Back in the Netherlands, they learned how to create historic costumes from Angela Mombers of Walking through History, who taught them traditional techniques, materials and patterns. Under her tutelage, the duo created a number of centuries-old clothing articles: plunderhose trousers, doublets, rebato collars.

Everything the duo did this past year is reflected in one way or another in the collection they are currently creating. 'We investigated what tools we will need to conquer the fantasy film world,' says Cheminée. 'The world we want to portray with them is the product of our own fascination.' For their debut collection, that fascination is life after death, and their present efforts are fully dedicated to developing characters for The After Life of the Nightmare Disorder. This fictional world is rife with digital archetypes that speak to the imagination: ghosts, trolls, haters, influencers and followers. It's going to be disconcerting and uncanny, the duo says, but also regal and extravagant: 'It won't necessarily be a question of heaven or hell, but a place where you can be who you want to be.'

Text by Willemijn de Jonge
Timaeus

Timaeus

While studying at Willem de Kooning Academy, digital artist Tim van Hooft (Timaeus) developed into a maker of video installations, digital worlds and games. His work occupies a niche between graphic design and autonomous visual art: using game engine software, he creates digital, speculative works. 'Worldbuilding means immersing people in a new place or a different kind of story. I do that using digital means.' Van Hooft analyses images of objects, such as a tree trunk. This allows him to bring pieces of reality into his new worlds.

Van Hooft considers himself a digital storyteller, so crossing over to the world of film was not surprising. This past year he worked on a short film. Close your eyes and visualize the following: layer upon layer of lichens, accompanied by tranquil music and a poem. Van Hooft's short draws viewers into a story in which natural elements are ceremonially awarded the title of martyr. The idea came to him during a visit to a church in Austria. 'That was the first time I saw martyrs, decked out in jewellery, precious stones and opulent clothing.'

His interest triggered, he decided to apply the same narrative to nature: it is his way of calling attention to the grim climate situation. 'Martyrdom has historically been reserved for people, but I wanted to confer that title onto nature and thus question our anthropocentric outlook. Not to force something on people, but to reach them and hopefully activate them. That's my way of dealing with difficult issues.'

Making the film took much longer than he had initially expected. 'Fortunately I had enough time available, but I had never made a linear film before, so it was a question of trial and error.' Collaborations helped smooth the way. 'That was one of the biggest revelations of this past year. There were so many ways to approach the subject that it was difficult to choose. Another 3D designer, Famke Immelman, helped me work through the options, and that allowed me to start taking concrete steps.' After that, the challenge was to squeeze the film into an 8.5-minute timeframe. 'I'm used to making nonlinear installations, but now I had to think in terms of beginning, middle and end. That was the steepest learning curve, along with how to capture the story in visual form.'

This particular story has a happy end, because the film is finished and is currently being distributed and promoted. Meanwhile, Van Hooft is already taking his first steps towards another world. 'I went on a guided journey to one of Europe's last primeval forests in Poland, where I collected material for what will hopefully become another project.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Timothy Scholte

Timothy Scholte

Fashion designer Timothy Scholte's past year revolved around a career switch. For many years he worked as a nurse, also during his bachelor studies in Textile and Fashion Design. 'I wanted to go back to doing what I learned at the Royal Academy of Art, but I found it difficult to pick up the thread again.' And it required a strong thread to make the eight leather outfits and four wearable sculptures in his new collection, in which Scholte plays with bodily shapes. His metal and leather sculptures, for example, make the silhouette larger and broader. 'I am fascinated by the human body, and how the way we perceive it shapes our body and identity.'

Scholte takes inspiration from a wide variety of sources, ranging from video games to the fetish festival Folsom, but takes a very intuitive approach to his work. He personally 'translates' his collages into three-dimensional products through a process of fitting and welding. 'Draping in metal,' he calls it. 'I attach leather to those metal frames the way others drape fabric over a mannequin.' Scholte also wanted to work with silicones and a 3D printer this year, but that proved a bit too ambitious. 'A single year just flies by. I had to choose my focus, and what I chose was leatherwork. I am especially fascinated by motorcycle gear. It's made for protection, with all that padding, but it also makes you look more muscular. That paradox between protection and sexualisation, between the masculine and the queer, is exciting.'
Scholte took courses in leatherworking, made bags, dismantled second-hand biker clothing and used the components to make new pieces. 'I used part of the subsidy to buy new machines that allow me to sew leather. That has allowed me to create better-finished pieces, which I find hopeful. I may be a designer, but craftsmanship is equally important to me.' But his desire to work with silicones and a 3D printer has not waned: 'I would like to create prosthetic pieces that combine silicone with leather.'

Starting again was Scholte's biggest challenge. 'My perfectionism gets in my way, so I took my own advice: like I tell the children I teach in the Schilderswijk quarter of The Hague, I started by making a collage without any intended final product. All I really need to do is start, and before I know it I've created a new collection.' That collection will be presented during the Dutch Design Week and in the form of a performance in Rotterdam. 'I'm working with ballroom dancers to investigate how they can wear my wearable sculptures and, despite the constriction, still move freely.'

Text by Priscilla de Putter
Tymon Hogenelst

Tymon Hogenelst

Tymon Hogenelst has been a visitor to the Italian region of Liguria for fifteen years now. The seasons dictate his activities: harvesting olives, pruning trees, and so on. Last year he conducted a study into the archetypical 'fence' in the region. It is a personal project that ties into his usual daily practice: the architectural office Studio Wild, which he runs with Jesse van der Ploeg. They are mainly interested in site-specific, narrative projects. In order to build something that truly belongs to that location, it is important to spend some time there. 'That's one of the things that the talent development grant has offered me: when you work for a client, there usually isn't much opportunity for such immersion, for a more investigative attitude that doesn't necessarily lead to a solid and specific end result right away.'

His starting point was a photographic series that Hogenelst had previously made in a valley in north-west Italy of all the fences that surround gardens, vegetable patches and orchards. They are constructed using local material remnants such as bed springs and reinforcement mesh. The results are provisional but also pragmatic. 'Some people might find it trashy or even ugly. But as I see it, they have a particular architectonic quality that I also recognise in traditional forms of construction. There's an inventiveness in reusing or reinterpreting the materials found in the direct surroundings. I would describe it as the contemporary material culture of the Ligurian countryside.'

Besides actually building a fence, Hogenelst is also writing an essay about the narrative side to his research and the role of 'tacit knowledge': the bits of wisdom, customs and tricks naturally passed on from generation to generation, and which are often very specific to the location. How do you build a dry stacked wall? What rocks do you use for that, at what angle are the rocks stacked on top of each other, and according to what system?

In this region, the need for fences emerged from an interplay of nature and culture. Around 1800, people started colonizing the mountainsides by building terraces and walls, enabling agriculture. At the same time, wild boar disappeared from the region as a result of hunting. As rural communities dwindled over the course of the twentieth century, this four-legged 'bulldozer' returned, making it necessary to protect the crops. Hogenelst places his design research in the context of these developments. 'You could say that my research responds to and tries to be relevant for a social and ecological trend occurring here.'

Text by Victoria Anastasyadis
Adam Centko

Adam Centko

While still an Interactive/Media/Design (IMD) student at the Royal Academy of Art, Adam Centko started organising an annual guerrilla film festival, Sand Nudes, in the dunes of The Hague. Centko feels that the established film festivals take themselves a little bit too seriously: their selection policies only accept productions made with a wellknown producer, and themes shouldn't be too light-hearted. His 'bad cinema appreciation society' takes a completely opposite approach: anyone can participate, and it's all about the fun factor. How else are you supposed to encourage people to get involved in cinema?

This initiative was born from Centko's fascination with the moving image and the countless parallel realities it allows us to create. The installation that formed his graduation project at KABK, Silicon Sights, explores the interface between physical landscapes and their digital replicas, and how people behave in these worlds. This project was an early demonstration of the dependence of the digital world on the energy sources and technologies that we assign to it. Engrossed by the infrastructure behind the screen, Centko decided to go deeper with his research: he is currently working on a documentary titled Invisible Infrastructures. 'We keep talking about “the cloud”, which sounds very romantic, but in fact it's just a pretty word to describe gigantic data centres.'

Centko set out to find the facts. 'How much electricity does an Instagram post consume? And where does that electricity come from?' To answer the latter question, he visited a coal mine in Germany. He also investigated the silicon crystals that microchips are made of. As the project progressed, however, he decided to involve 'softer' values as well. 'These crystals are not only essential for digital technology – it seems that they have a healing effect on people.' This led Centko to drop all technology and embark on an offgrid trip through the Malaysian jungle, or at least as close to a zero technology off-grid trip as he could get while still bringing a camera to record the dream-like world he encountered there.

In a course on the subject of NFTs at the Berlin Art Institute, Centko explored a completely different side of the digital spectrum. This is typical of Centko's constant movement from the digital domain to the physical and back as he seeks to capture the value of both worlds. His latest work, Garden of Aether (commissioned by Slagwerk Den Haag), studies the impact of simulations. It involves a home-built computer on which an autonomous cameraman leads his own, digital life… until it all becomes too much and the simulation crashes. 'Unlike with video, simulation means giving up control to the computer. It's essentially a kind of videogame that plays itself.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Alexander Beeloo

Alexander Beeloo

Architect Alexander Beeloo grew up near the lakes of Nieuwkoop in the province of Zuid-Holland. He has now spent the last year researching the future-readiness of this area as a potential production landscape for construction materials, against the backdrop of today's pressing issues such as soil subsidence, CO2 emissions, and the transition in construction materials. 'The dual nature of this area appeals to me. There are agricultural areas and there is a nature area where reeds are harvested for roof thatching and façade covering. By studying all these purposes and processes, you can arrive at a suitable answer to local issues.' Beeloo's proposal boils down to this: create a mosaic landscape with mixed functions, where there is room for livestock farming, for nature, for the 'wet cultivation' of reeds and bulrush, and for these local crops to be processed into construction materials.

During his research, Beeloo continually maintained a critical view of his own role as well: how can I, as an architect, relate to this issue (that touches on so many important themes)? How can I visualise the potential of this region in such a way that I can get all stakeholders – local residents, farmers, clients – to support the required changes? 'I consider it my responsibility as a designer to not just develop knowledge but also to persuade other parties.' Thus, at an exposition in Nieuwkoop, Beeloo presented studies of bulrush, reed and hemp as construction materials; all of which can be grown and processed locally. 'When people can see and smell the actual material, it triggers a dialogue. And then you notice that people are open to change and experimentation.' In addition to the materials study, Beeloo is working on a design for a viewing tower built using local construction materials. 'The tower forms an illustration of my own research. It not only demonstrates the local materials, but from the top of the tower you can look out on the new landscape, as I imagine it.'

For the coming time, Beeloo wants to focus more explicitly on building his profile as an architect. He likes to be closely involved with the actual building of his designs, and he works on different scales: from the overall landscape to the scale of materials use, and down to the architectural details. He would also like the freedom and autonomy he experienced during the past year to become a lasting part of his identity. 'If you're not performing commissioned work, then you can consider a design question with an open mind and can listen to all stakeholders. I hope to preserve this open, investigative attitude in future assignments.'

Text: Merel Kamp
Ameneh Solati

Ameneh Solati

It was during her master's study at the Royal London School of Art that Ameneh Solati realised that an architectural practice can also consist of viewing the world through a spatial lens. She decided to continue as an independent researcher. She draws on various disciplines for her research: from architectural design to film and visual arts, and from teaching to writing and editorial work. 'My practice is geared to revealing the kind of spatial knowledge that is not activated in the more traditional architectural practices.'

Solati applies the various disciplines to tell stories and to acquire new insights and perspectives regarding urgent issues. 'When I look back on everything I've done so far, my work is about alternative ways of living. I research the lives of people who drop out of society, whether or not of their own accord, and who attempt to elude what society considers acceptable and to resist the dominant systems that are extractive or exploitative.'

Initially, Solati submitted a proposal to research alternative cultural production in Europe, more specifically in the Netherlands. 'But then I decided to focus on another project I was working on at the same time, and which was gaining momentum just then. The project is essentially comparable but is set in a completely different context. This project is about the Mesopotamian wetlands in Iraq and how the local population and environment have been suppressed over a history spanning thousands of years. Most of the swamps were drained in the early 1990s. The area is now suffering catastrophic problems as a consequence of the water politics and climate change. I investigate how the dynamics of power and resistance in peripheral areas is being played out, challenging national narratives. My research is about how themes such as resistance, government, society, gender, production and ecology can be understood more accurately within the context of this specific region.'

Solati now works as an editor for the online platform Failed Architecture, and last year started teaching at the Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam and at Design Academy Eindhoven. 'Besides the research, I have developed my teaching, writing and editorial skills. The talent development grant gave me the freedom to explore the sources and opportunities that I happened to come across, but also to create these for myself. The next step is to conduct field research in Iraq and to determine how best to respond to all the research results.'

Text: Lotte Haagsma
Anastasia Eggers

Anastasia Eggers

Anastasia Eggers has always wondered how our complex food system works. With Migrating Seasons, her research on migrant seasonal labour, the fragility and complexity of the food system and geopolitics, she comes closer to an answer. She took Dutch agricultural and food culture as a starting point. 'For me, the subject is a way of saying something about the world. We live in a “post-season world”, because everything is available all year round. Growing, harvesting and consuming food no longer depend on natural factors.'

You could call her an action researcher: 'I participate in my own research to familiarize myself with the context.' For this project, for instance, Eggers worked temporarily in a vegetable greenhouse in the Westland where she interviewed people and captured on film the harvest in the peak season, the transition to the winter season and the preparation for yet another new season.

The tangible result of her participatory research includes the publication of a contemporary interpretation of the traditional farmer's almanac, a calendar documenting what is needed in agriculture during the year, such as knowledge of sowing time, tide tables and weather forecasts. With global trade and the modernisation of technology within agriculture, this almanac 'went out of fashion', along with the rituals and celebrations surrounding the harvest. Eggers' farmer's almanac should breathe new life into this by telling new seasonal narratives and revealing what remains hidden from us within the food system. After all, who are the parties involved, how does the migration of seasonal workers and food work, and what about the interdependence of international trade relations? On a timeline in the calendar, she highlights themes that are the subject of new, speculative rituals around the harvest. Like a ritual to celebrate the collective harvest, or the transfer of the aubergine harvest from the Westland to Europe's other largest aubergine exporter in Almeria, Spain, visualised with an Olympic torch as a metaphor.

At various points in her research, Eggers collaborates, such as with Dr Clemens Driessen of Wageningen University who is researching the history and future of the Westland, and with graphic designer Benjamin Sporken who advises her on the graphic layer in the farmers' almanac.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Angeliki Diakrousi

Angeliki Diakrousi

Angeliki Diakrousi studied architecture in Greece and Experimental Publishing at the Piet Zwart Institute in Rotterdam. She is developing an interdisciplinary practice, grounded in her interest in the social aspects of technology and design. 'I am interested in the politics of social media and how this digital infrastructure relates to the physical, public space of a city. The way these spaces were designed often has a constraining effect. People have different ways of understanding the world, and I believe that these differences should be able to co-exist both online and in the city. Conceiving and visualising other, techno-social futures is what I'm working on, together with Varia, the Rotterdam-based collective practice that I'm part of.'

She worked on two projects in the past period. Hunting Mosquitos is about the use of the Mosquito high-frequency sound device in Rotterdam, to deter young people from loitering in public space. 'It is first of all a socio-political issue which I approach from the angle of artistic research,' Diakrousi says. The second project is a collective research project by a group consisting of mainly Greek performers, artists and architects. 'WordMord is about language, code and trauma. We are developing performative actions and digital tool scripts and programming experiments to this end. Our research hovers between language, art and technology. We draw attention to the violence of Greek language. This not only concerns spoken language but also technological language, computer code, which sometimes reproduces the bias inherent in spoken human language.'

Diakrousi used her development year especially to reflect on her position as researcher and maker, and on how she wishes to flesh out her practice. She paid a thorough visit to Documenta in Kassel, where she learned a lot about collective working. 'In Kassel we discussed for instance how to deal with joint budgets.' In the meantime she is experimenting with different forms of presentation. For Hunting Mosquitos, for example, she organises guided tours along spots in Rotterdam, Oslo and Amsterdam to let the participants experience the impact of this technology. She also gave workshops during the biennial festival Art Meets Radical Openness (AMRO) in Linz, Austria. At the end of this year she will participate in a group exhibition in Tent, Rotterdam.

Text: Lotte Haagsma
Anne Nieuwenhuijs

Anne Nieuwenhuijs

Anne's graduation project as a landscape architect was about poisonous sludge in the Schelde river, and what it could be used for. It led to her application for a talent development grant, which enabled Anne to spend one year studying natural resources and their properties.

'It was a year that was all about patience as well as further learning', is how Nieuwenhuijs sums it up. 'The thing is that I became increasingly interested in the smallest components of the earth. That's why I also wanted to do a course in chromatography, which is a process for separating components of a mixture. But then this course was repeatedly postponed because of corona, and so I just set about on my own with buckets and sludge. I've put the sludge in small containers in my studio and will examine it through a microscope to zoom in even further, but I can already perform experiments now. What happens when you add seeds? Or other substances? How does the sludge dry up and then what are you actually left with, when it's no longer sludge? Right now my whole studio is full of these containers.'

It is a form of knowledge about the earth that wasn't part of her education curriculum. Of course Nieuwenhuijs learnt about peat soils and clay soils and about sand; 'but they don't teach you to really understand what it is. What is its composition? And once clay is no longer clay, how do the components start to behave? For example, there is a poisonous form of sludge from the Schelde river that produces a wonderful glaze for art works. I found this inspiring, and this was reflected in the ceramics course I was doing: I also started mixing substances there. I was given “pure” studio clay to work with, but I added sand. Because I was interested in discovering how the one type of natural resource behaves with respect to another.' There is so incredibly much to discover, and Nieuwenhuijs is determined to do so, but under her own conditions. 'I notice that by experimenting, by observing and recording, I am increasingly clear about how I wish to conduct my experiments. And I feel supported in this endeavour by the Fund.'

Above all, she wishes to conduct her experiments without any prior plans or judgements. So the question is not: where can I find the most suitable type of soil for a park? But instead she simply wants to wait and see what happens in her containers in her studio, of their own accord. You could also describe it as listening. First listen and look at all the components, before you start answering back.

Tekst: Jowi Schmitz
Ant Eye

Ant Eye

Hanneke Klaver and Tosca Schift are a duo who create works that straddle the boundary between design, performance and art. They met at ArtEZ art academy in Arnhem, where they both studied Product Design. Klaver and Schift are inseparable, operating together under the name Ant Eye. 'The objects we create are not functional: what we do is anti-design,' says Klaver. 'But because “anti” sounds so negative, we chose a name that has a different spelling, but is pronounced almost the same. Ant's eyes see details, see things from a different perspective every time.'

Ant Eye's art is best described as playful, absurdist and slightly magical, focusing on the tension between the everyday and the surreal as a gateway to a world of imagination. 'We embody the objects we create, thus bringing them to life,' says Schift. 'By literally putting ourselves into our work, and experimenting with it, we find perspectives that teach us more about what the role of design could be.' For example, a repurposed, wheeled and winged washing machine that 'eats' socks is the main character in Sock Monster, Klaver and Schift's first short created for a film festival. The thirteen-minute production premiered at the Go Short – International Short Film Festival in Nijmegen in April 2022. 'For designers, an object is often the final product. At a presentation, such objects stand on a pedestal, accompanied by a brief description. In performance and film, however, the object is just the start. Through time, atmosphere, sound and interaction, you create more room for the object's story,' Klaver explains.

Last year Ant Eye has been supported by film maker Douwe Dijkstra and design theory teacher Rana Ghavami. It is a journey of discovery, of reading, watching and learning, and it has led Klaver and Schift to the realm of magic realism. Schift: 'The ambiguity, the fact that one thing can contain different truths and stories, really appeals to us. We are not looking for a single essence or meaning, but a plurality of voices. We want to challenge our viewers to find their own meaning. If it means that a work can be hard to figure out at first glance, then that's fine. We intend to seek out this friction even more in the future.'

Text: Iris Stam
Axel Coumans

Axel Coumans

Social designer Axel Coumans (Atelier Coumans) studied at Design Academy Eindhoven. In his practice he approaches ecological themes from different social contexts and a non-human perspective. He believes that listening is one of the most important skills for a social designer to have. His work revolves around trees, from the plane tree on the grounds of his own studio to the primeval forests of Poland.
Baratto&Mouravas

Baratto&Mouravas

Nicola Baratto and Yiannis Mouravas were both stu-dents at the Sandberg Instituut when they discovered how their interests connect. While Baratto worked with dreams and dreamscapes, Mouravas focused on archaeology. And through a number of remarkable research projects, they demonstrated how well the two interests go together. They have now been working for two years as a duo, Baratto & Mouravas, and are currently developing their fourth research project titled Zolfo Rosso.

Remnants from days gone by are the starting point and source of inspiration for the duo. Consider for instance a shipwreck, a pillar, a desert, and old map. What is known about the object? What significance does it have from a historic, archaeological and societal perspective? And what else can you imagine, based on these findings? With the aid of archives, historical artefacts and a poetic gaze, the duo embarks on their Archaeodreaming: a multi-disciplinary methodology that merges archaeology with dreamscape-making.

Mouravas: 'In archaeology, you don't always have definitive facts to go by; speculation plays an important role.' Baratto: 'The night is a special period for pondering things. In your dreams you create stories that cannot emerge during the day. I refer to that as re-imagine. It's possible to train yourself in this ability, which often produces valuable stories and images. We incorporate those into our work.'

Baratto and Mouravas: 'In our view, archaeologists and dreamers do the same: they weave together the past, present and future. An archaeologist excavates something from the past, brings it into the present, and projects its significance onto the future. In dreams you excavate your memories. With the resulting images you create a scenario in which the past, present and future blend together. We process the images of the archaeologist and the dreamer, and in that way create a history for our future audience.'
The duo is currently working on Zolfo Rosso: an Archaeodream project that will ultimately result in a 16mm-film installation. Baratto: 'The film speculates on the creation of an upside-down world map in the twelfth century. At first we follow the geographer and interweave this historical quest with the work of a young film maker living today.' Mouravas: 'In our view, this map symbolises the radical shifts in ideology, power, perception and narratives that determine how history is written. Inspired by the world map, the research and film also revolve around the quest for 'red sulphur': an alchemist substance that represents the exploration of the unknown, and is inaccessible and invisible.'

Text: Maaike Staffhorst
Basse Stittgen

Basse Stittgen

The German bio-designer Basse Stittgen obtained his master's degree in Social Design at the Design Academy in Eindhoven. He now lives in Amsterdam, where he has spent his last year focusing on – among others – the project Fluid Dialogues. In recognition of the 40th 'anniversary' of HIV in the Netherlands, Stittgen interviewed people from various communities. How did the diagnosis affect their lives? What prejudices did they encounter?

In addition to their stories, the participants provided Stittgen and Jennifer Struikenkamp, the project's collaborating microbiologist, with another kind of highly personal material: their blood. Using enlarged microscope images and video footage and combining this with the words of the interviewees, Stittgen built an installation that presents a poignant portrait of these people's struggle with an autoimmune disease that, until quite recently, was a death sentence. The work was created with support from the Fund and will be on display at the Stopera in Amsterdam in August 2022 as part of the exhibition House of HIV. 'The idea was already there, but the talent development grant gave me the opportunity to put it into practice,' Stittgen says enthusiastically.

The same is true of Recombined Wood, a project in which he is investigating how he might create a new product using two residual products from the paper industry. 'The first is lignin, a brown substance in wood that glues the cellulose fibres together. It is not used in the production of white paper because of its colour. I want to combine this component with the cellulose fibres from paper that have become too short through repeated recycling, and make them into paper once more.' The project is currently in the research and development phase. 'Trying out new machines and production techniques, visiting a paper mill as an observer, building my knowledge by collaborating with chemists… I also feel a strong need to seek out the forest. Right now, I am too far separated from the original material.'

Stittgen explains what his work as a bio-designer is all about: 'How can I connect with what I make? I am not too concerned with the applicability of objects. For me, it's about the story. Where do the products that we use come from? I want to know what the process is, retrace the steps. The point is to better understand the world we live in.'

Text: Iris Stam
Benjamin McMillan

Benjamin McMillan

Graphic designer Benjamin McMillan graduated from ArtEZ in Arnhem in 2020, and devoted his development year to working on his project Full Auto Foundry. 'I research how automation can be used to develop new letters and letter types. I organise workshops where new letter types are designed, which are then automatically converted into a digital file. It has become a kind of mobile letter foundry.'

McMillan did not train as a letter designer. 'I wondered what I, as a relative amateur, could contribute to the traditional craft of letter design.' At the same time he was fascinated by the auto-correct function on his smartphone: the idea that a machine can make suggestions and in that way play a role in how you formulate sentences. 'I wanted to investigate how the automatic generation of words – or in this case, design elements – would work in the context of typography. The idea is to arrive at a letter design more or less by accident. You just sit and scribble and doodle for a bit, and eventually a letter A or H or X emerges, or perhaps it just remains chaos.' The automation influences both the making process and the aesthetic form of the resulting letter designs.

He automated the letter design process in two ways. He developed analogue tools that are used in the workshop to draw new letters. Initially these were templates of all sorts and shapes, but now he works with visual artist Tjobo Kho on a series of large drawings from which workshop participants can copy elements, which can lead to new letters in turn. 'The templates and drawings automate the sketch process in a certain sense; you can reproduce them infinitely with the same result each time. It is a simple tool that adds a certain degree of amateurism to the design process, and accelerates the process at the same time.' The digital automation consists of a script written by McMillan which ensures that hand-drawn drawings are automatically converted into a digital letter type. 'The machine is actually a scanner connected to a small computer. As soon as the drawings have been scanned, the letters undergo a digitisation process and are then automatically uploaded to the website fullautofoundry.com.'

McMillan wishes to visit various art education institutions across Europe with the Full Auto Foundry workshops, and is furthermore examining whether other designers can apply the platform in their own design or education practice. In the meantime he is further developing his freelance practice and works as an assistant at the Metropolis M and McGuffin magazines.

Text: Lotte Haagsma
Boey Wang

Boey Wang

In his comic Job 100, designer and artist Boey Wang focuses attention on the one hundred most ignored jobs in China. From the street hairdresser to the person who washes your windshield at the traffic lights. Each page shows a single occupation as a single drawing. In terms of both content and method, the booklet typifies Wang's work, in which attention for minorities and an emphasis on the intuitive and illustrative are recurrent elements. 'I question how we see and understand things based on the prevailing values and standards. The dominance of those values and standards means that certain perspectives and people are excluded and ignored', Wang explains. 'In my work I most like to engage with the things we ignore.'

As an example, says Wang, the intuitive and non-visual sensory experience is marginalised within the design world. 'It means that there is barely any awareness of the complexity of the human experience, in fact resulting in a kind of visual discrimination, even in products that are intended for people with a visual impairment.' Wang proposes instead to develop a multi-sensorial, intuitive perspective on design, where the starting point for a design is no longer first and foremost the faculty of sight.

This last year, Wang worked with designer Simon Dogger, who lost his faculty of sight during his study at the Design Academy. Their joint project, Design beyond vision, is both a research and an educational method: a 'plug-in' for regular design education consisting of guest lessons and workshops, where the participants are invited to think outside the usual (visual) box. That means: with eyes shut! And then off to the beach, or a museum, or to stage a performance. 'Sensory storytelling', is what Wang calls it: translating the non-visual sensory experience into a visual language. Ideally, the outcome is an 'illustrative design' that can be read intuitively by people with as well as without a visual impairment.

A strong example of this practice is Wang's own Haptics of cooking: a (prize-winning) set of kitchen utensils whose use can be read both visually and through touch. Wang is currently working to upscale its production. In addition, he is busy setting up a brand that specialises in affordable products whose beauty can also be appreciated by visually impaired people. 'With this brand, I try to start from a neutral perspective so that the products will be intuitively accessible for everyone, regardless of one's talents or impairments.'

Text: Merel Kamp
Céline Hurka

Céline Hurka

'A letter is just as much a design object as a chair,' says Céline Hurka. 'Letters are everywhere and are a beautiful means of expression.' Hurka was already interested in calligraphy as a young girl in Karlsruhe, and as a student she came to The Hague for a bachelor in Graphic Design and a master in Type and Media at the Royal Academy of Art. Three years on, she's busy setting up her own type foundry. She is developing ten fonts simultaneously; some commissioned, and others at her own initiative. The talent development grant gave her room to further develop her personal style and to experiment with new technologies. She was able to make important strides with Tonka: the variable font she has been working on since 2019 and which is ideal for use in animation. This year she teamed up with a colleague typographer to work on this huge file together, which will eventually make it possible for users to personally adapt the size, weight, width and slope.

The sans-serif Tonka derives from a sans-serif developed by typographer Arno Drescher in the 1930s. Hurka likes to find inspiration in the past. 'Many letter types have been the same for ages. The popular Garamond was designed 500 years ago, for example. I find that fascinating and seek to build on that.' The Dark Academia which she published in March 2022 harks back to the elegant initials in medieval manuscripts: a contemporary interpretation of what monks used to paint with infinite patience. Twenty-six flamboyant floral capitals form a play on image versus legibility. 'Thanks to the grant, I was able to create this type in five months, working 24 hours a day on a letter. In doing so I experimented with a more casual approach to designing. I'm becoming increasingly intuitive in how I draw my letters, and I elaborate them further, not per individual pixel on the screen but simply by eye.'

She has made Dark Academia available as open source, which is rather unusual in the letter type world. But after 5000 downloads, it's clear she's meeting a need. Another example is the Carmen Is Regular type, which she developed with Carmen Dusmet for the Solitype fundraiser to support women and children in Afghanistan. This way Hurka is not just pushing her own boundaries, but is also critically addressing typographic conventions. She gave workshops on the subject at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague and the Konstfack in Stockholm. She enjoys the autonomy that her new practice affords. 'I look forward to launching my foundry with my own projects next summer.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Charlotte Rohde

Charlotte Rohde

'Do what attracts you most' is the motto of typographer, graphic designer, performance artist and instructor Charlotte Rohde. Rohde likes to explore a variety of artistic worlds. She grew up in the German city of Aachen, graduated from the Sandberg Instituut in Amsterdam in 2022, has a visual communication and research office in that same city, and regularly visits Weimar, where she teaches Typography and Type Design as a guest professor at Bauhaus University. She also performs, and pours her heart and soul into all manner of activities in the context of the Talent Development Grant: research, seeking out new collaborations, design and writing. 'I'm both workhorse and show pony,' she laughs. 'And I have fun either way.'

Rohde takes a multidisciplinary approach to her study of 'letter type as a body.' She does this by presenting letters in new ways: as three-dimensional objects, or as a character in a text, for example. She is currently working on a number of poetic miniature essays in which she addresses capitalism and the contradictory messages being sent to modern women. 'Women are under a lot of pressure,' she says. 'They're expected to be feminist, but if they take too much of a leading role, they are criticised for it. In short, they can't win.'

Key terms for Rodhe are openness and freedom. 'It's fine if my creations raise questions, but I don't want to provide any answers. It's up to everyone to come up with their own meanings, to see what they want in my works. I'm not someone to shout my opinions from the rooftops – I stay well away from discussions about design. I want both my artistic and applied work to be recognisable, sexy and flirting. Present in a hot, but subtle way.'

Last year Rodhe has been guided by the Armenian/American film theorist, writer and queer Tina Bastajian and by David Bennewith, head of Rietveld Graphic Design, while engaging in feedback interviews with graphic designer and type caster Jungmyung Lee. She also intends to travel to the United States to visit the Letterform Archive in San Francisco and meet a number of typography experts. 'I am so happy with the appreciation from the Fund. Being recognised in this way makes me feel talented, and it gives me the room to further develop my practice,' Rohde concludes

Text: Iris Stam
Christine Kipiriri

Christine Kipiriri

In July 2022, fashion designer Christine Kipiriri travelled to Burundi, the home country that she fled with her parents as a young child. The goal of her visit was to draw inspiration for her fashion brand, Women of War. But the journey had an unforeseen impact. 'I had never visited Burundi before and experienced a massive culture shock.' A lot of used clothing from the West ends up in Burundi. Kipiriri, who had previously created a collection using recycled materials, wanted to delve more deeply into that textile stream. The idea was also to take clothing back to her studio and to upcycle them there into customised clothing pieces. Yet that didn't feel right, once she arrived in Burundi. 'I would prefer to give, rather than take things away. Ideally I would set up some venture through which to contribute locally.'

After the first shock had subsided, Kipiriri was able to appreciate all the beauty she encountered there, ranging from the traditional textiles to the omnipresence of handiwork and craftsmanship. 'Tailors sit at the market with their sewing machines. The tailored clothing they make is of course for the richer customers. Poorer people tend to wear a simple wrap-around.' Kipiriri also got to know a local craft through a workshop on weaving with beads, given by Suavis: a woman who teaches this technique to other women and also makes bags and trivets to sell. 'I want to experiment with this technique to see how far it can take you. In time I want to incorporate bead work into clothing pieces and accessories for my Women of War brand.'

But Kipiriri is first of all working on a dress, woven entirely with beads. In addition she wants to use the traditional textile produced by the Burundian company Afritextile to make a dress, using western techniques such as moulding and corsetry. This is how Kipiriri aims to express her own double identity.

The trip to Burundi not only raised questions about the future of her own professional practice, but also helped consolidate her identity. 'At first the clash was overwhelming, but in the end it was very inspiring to be there. After one week I was able to accept: this is where I come from. And at the same time I suddenly felt very Western.'.

Text: Merel Kamp
Colette Aliman

Colette Aliman

Rotterdam-based researcher Colette Aliman has always been sensitive to the impact of sounds. After completing her studies in contextual design at the Design Academy Eindhoven, she decided to build on her sensitivity to and fascination with sound by launching the platform Sound-Office, where she researches the sound landscape that we have been living in since the Industrial Revolution. What does our sonic culture look like today, with the intrusion of robots, data centres and machines into our soundscapes? Aliman calls it Mechaphony: the landscape of mechanical sound.

Ever since the Industrial Revolution, our relationship with our sonic environment has become strongly based on measurability. What would happen if we were to let go of our preconceptions and perceptions of sound in order to redefine it and predict our future sonic world through experimentation?

Aliman collected all sorts of information for her broad-based investigation, ranging from scientific studies, research articles, science fiction books to sound art. She took inspiration from the sounds of objects produced by creatives for sci-fi films and TV series. A fascinating development in this context, she finds, is the increasing prevalence of biological technology, where industrial sounds seek to mimic biological systems, such as the lower-noise, higher-efficiency turbine designs based on the motion of whales' fins. 'Soft robotics are replacing harsh industrial noise, cars are becoming quieter, and the industrial soundscape as we know it will fade away,' she speculates. 'We may be heading back to the sonic world as it was before the Industrial Revolution.'

Aliman's investigation focuses on urban sounds, anthropomorphic sounds and the sound paradoxes of the green energy surge. These themes will be part of her three-part online publication that blends graphic design, sounds and all the different narratives. 'It is a non-linear construct of sound studies, an organically growing library that everyone is welcome to borrow from.'

Her intent is for the project to reach scientists, policy makers and sound designers, among others, but also other creatives and a broader audience with an interest in sound. 'I want to demonstrate new ways in which we and other living beings can relate to sound. My objective is to create a better understanding of our inclusive sonic culture.' Aliman is also organising a series of Soundscape Mixtape workshops, through which she hopes to incorporate the creative sector, cultural organisations, community centres and municipalities into the Sound-Office's organically growing network. Business coach Marion Beltman and lab mentor Gabriella Gómez-Mont are assisting with the further professionalisation of this Lab.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet

Dasha Tsapenko

The world is shrinking for material researcher Dasha Tsapenko. In her home country of Ukraine she worked as an architect, but here in the Netherlands she has shifted to micro-biology. 'Whatever my research question is, for one or other reason my projects always end up with a piece of clothing, or something else related to the body.'

For a while Tsapenko single-handedly investigated growing organic clothing pieces from plants. Searching for new methods, in 2020 she applied to the Bio Art and Design Awards. This resulted in a collaboration with Han Wösten, a micro-biologist working at Utrecht University. That's how Tsapenko ended up in a laboratory. 'I am a bit of a hectic person, while in the laboratory it's all about order and protocol. A very productive combination!' Wösten and Tsapenko experimented with symbioses of edible plants and mycelium, a type of fungus. The combination of hemp and mycelium seemed most promising. 'This has the potential to produce real, usable textile.'

There is a long tradition of using hemp for various purposes in Ukraine, and so Tsapenko aimed to bring together Ukrainian hemp and craftsmen with Dutch mycelium from the laboratory in Utrecht. But then Russia invaded Ukraine. 'I began to doubt the relevance of my work. Shouldn't it become much more political?' Tsapenko started looking for Ukrainian and Dutch designers and makers whose practice had changed as a result of the war. The idea for a group exhibition titled Home(land) emerged, focusing on collaborations between Dutch and Ukrainian makers and craftsmen, and revolving around the question: Is it possible to feel at home without being at home? The 'gunya', which is a traditional Ukrainian wool coat that isn't just watertight and insular but to which protective properties at a spiritual level are ascribed, became a symbol of home for Tsapenko.

In collaboration with people including Marjo van Schaik, Ruslana Goncahruk and Oksana Devoe, she produced a series of twelve gunyas using different materials, among which: discarded Dutch wool, hemp combined with mycelium, and a fungus called Schizophyllum commune, which produces woolly fruitbodies. The exhibition and her collaboration with Wösting taught Tsapenko a lot about her professional identity and work method. 'I always considered myself a thinker. Someone who conceives an end result and then works systematically toward that end. Now it turns out that my approach is much more intuitive, and that each step in the making process tells me what step to take next.'.

Text: Merel Kamp
David Schmidt

David Schmidt

What are the preconditions for building a city in the year 2030? And what is the architect's role here? These were the principal questions that David Schmidt investigated over the past year. He investigated these questions as part of existing commissions obtained by Site Practice: the architecture and design office he founded with Anne Geenen, with branches in Amsterdam and Mumbai.

'We are facing immense climatological and socio-economic challenges. As an architect, you are expected to “solve” these issues through the buildings you design. You cannot do this on your own. The current age demands an integral approach to problems.' The architect/designer should operate as the linchpin in a larger network of actors and competences, says Schmidt. Accordingly, today's architect should be at home in various markets, though without needing to be an expert. 'You need to be able to conduct a meaningful dialogue with all stakeholders in a project.'

As part of a large construction project in the city of Nijmegen, Schmidt (and his office) researched the large-scale use of hemp as a construction material. 'We were in close touch with the farmer in Groningen who grows the hemp, but also with the housing association that we were designing for.' Hemp is a CO2-neutral and hence sustainable material. Yet for Schmidt, as an engaged architect, the sustainability issue doesn't end there. 'We wish to contribute to a sustainable, social economy through all our project. So we keep asking the question: where do the sustainable materials we want to apply actually come from? Which parties are involved in the production chain, and who benefits? Can we use local workshops and in that way support local economies?'

The opportunity offered by various projects to reflect more deliberately on the role of the architect enabled Schmidt and Site Practice to accumulate a lot of knowledge. 'I would love to compile a handbook or internal manifesto based on these experiences, including a kind of manual for our own practice.' One question that, in a certain sense, will remain unanswered is: How do you, as an office, combine your own agenda and commitment with working for clients? 'I don't always manage to persuade a client to adopt my vision. Does that mean I should decline the assignment? After all, at the end of the day my job is to provide a service.' Nevertheless, Schmidt is increasingly able to apply his commitment to Site Practice's projects. 'We are increasingly selective in the commissions we accept, and are gradually becoming more activist.'

Text: Merel Kamp
Diego Manuel Yves Grandry

Diego Manuel Yves Grandry

Exclusion. That was the theme of Diego Manuel Yves Grandry's graduation work at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague. 'The theme was inspired by my younger sister, who has a neurological condition called Rett syndrome. One of the symptoms is that she moves her hands in an unusual manner, and people notice that. I decided to take this as a starting point for my graduation project.' Grandry subsequently wanted to focus further on the phenomenon of exclusion and Rett. He initially thought of a 'library of Rett gestures', as a series of films about unusual hand movements. 'I was going to work with a scientist and would a VR workshop in Leiden. That was the initial plan.'

But then the scientist that Grandry had already started working with during his graduation year changed jobs, and the VR workshop was only for businesses and given in Dutch besides. 'So then I decided to do it all myself. I got together a group of people with all sorts of knowledge about games and film. We all share our knowledge within that group, so we learn, but I also teach. And it's working very well. The interaction with the group also influences the kind of film I'm making. In the past year I became interested in further forms of exclusion: so not just with regard to people with an impairment, but also because of your skin colour or the quality of your clothing. Right now I'm working on a film that features various characters who are all different from the average human being, in all sorts of ways. It's a film based on what's called a 'game engine', meaning that the viewer can “play” with the characters, so that they start showing very different reactions to each other. I can't describe it in much detail now, since I'm still in the midst of the design process. But it will be an accessible film without a lot of equipment. A film that you could watch on Vimeo, for example.'

The people that Grandry chose as mentors – designer Ali Eslami and artist Kévin Bray – continue to support him. The study group helps him make the film, but getting to know other talents at the Fund and their own struggles is also a source of inspiration. 'So I started studying exclusion, but in a sense I wound up with the opposite: we have an intense collaboration that's accessible for everyone. So I ended up with the theme of accessibility. Accessibility and connection. Quite surprising, really.'

Text: Jowi Schmitz

Djatá Bart-Plange

Djatá Bart-Plange completed his bachelor in English Language and Culture at Utrecht University, but transitioned to multimedia design soon after. In his current practice he draws on the frustrations he felt in the academic world, such as the formal reproduction of knowledge, the way language is used, the Western values that determine which knowledge is deemed meaningful, and the social and pragmatic consequences of this order in a self-centred world dominated by white men. Yet his interests are far broader still: what fascinates him are the stories we use in the West to make sense of the world. He combines these themes with his love of music-making, the cutting and pasting of samples on his computer, and writing.

His goal: to critically question this way of understanding the world, and to reveal the assumptions that hide behind the obvious. 'We often act as if we can produce neutral, universal knowledge. I think that's a kind of superstition that determines who gets to say something about the world and who does not, and what course of action is pursued. This view of knowledge often leads to the reproduction of colonial and patriarchal hierarchies,' Bart-Plange says. 'One of the things I want to do in my project is to devote more attention to human values that are “forbidden” and underappreciated in the scientific world, such as playfulness, emotion, fiction and values that are deemed feminine. I hope to change something by making people open their minds to other perspectives, listen to voices outside the white bubble, and engage in self-reflection.'

Bart-Plange grew up in rural South Limburg with his Dutch mother and Ghanaian father. As an accepted, dark-skinned boy, he experienced the stories that were told about 'black people.' Ever since, he has been curious about the stories we use to assign meaning to the world and ourselves. Although he is not yet sure how, Bart- Plange intends to build a digital bridge between the hegemonic Western knowledge system and various West-African knowledge systems.

In an accessible, playful manner, he hopes to appeal to people – young people, in particular – by combining music, video, illustration, 3D models and text into an aesthetic and attractive multi-media collage. Each thematic chapter in his audio book, which bears the cryptic working title of C Major Sewer, will be downloadable as a computer folder. 'You could describe it as an organically growing labyrinth, with folders within folders within folders. Each folder contains its own room of sorts, with illustrations, texts, links, sources and personal stories from people who have something to say about racism, colonialism, masculinity and similar themes. Eventually, it will grow into one big archive.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Dylan Westerweel

Dylan Westerweel

He describes his own fashion label, Dylan Westerweel, as a celebration of queerness: as a fashion brand for everyone wishing to radiate his/her/their beauty and strength. Westerweel: 'Queer people are bold enough to view the world differently, because the world looks differently at them.' Westerweel applies that different gaze to fashion, investigating social constructs such as beauty and design. Westerweel draws inspiration from various sources, ranging from the lives of 'rent boys' in Victorian London to the work of the Armenian filmmaker Sergej Paradzjanov.
Ebru Aydin

Ebru Aydin

Ebru Aydin, with Turkish roots, was born and bred in Utrecht. In 2021 she caught the public eye with her exhibition titled Hijab stories: 21 portraits of Muslim women and their special hijab. One of the reasons for Aydin to make these portraits was that women wearing headscarves are often seen as 'a particular type of female Muslim'. When Aydin, as a self-taught photographer, was awarded a talent development grant in 2021, she decided to explore the theme at greater length and to develop a more layered approach to her work. 'I experimented with various materials, including textile, in combination with my photography. I also researched my own visual family archive and what this reveals about my family history, in relation to the larger societal stories about Muslim women.' Aydin started her year with workshops, discussions with other image makers, and by reading lots of books; facilitated in part by the corona pandemic lockdowns. She recently started a new series of dialogues and portraits with Muslim women aged between twenty and thirty-five, which she will portray in sound and image in an exhibition at the end of this year.

The main theme of the dialogues is 'sense of belonging', and when and how you get this sense. It's a relevant question for Aydin personally as well. She often recognises herself in the women's answers, but at times is also taken by surprise. 'For example, I asked where and when the interviewee has a sense of belonging. I expected the answers to refer to physical places, say “Amsterdam” or “in the mosque” – and I did get those answers too – but sometimes the answers were more abstract. It would be about a feeling, or a longing. One very beautiful answer, I thought, was: “I would feel at home if people stopped trying to pigeonhole me.” It's a statement that has stayed with me, even though it feels rather utopian.'

Aydin isn't sure what the outcome will be, in the end. 'I graduated in sociology in 2013, and since then I've done all sorts of work. For example, I worked as a lecturer in higher education, and right now I work for the Van Gogh Museum as a freelance moderator and photographer. I don't feel like a true-blooded artist, but am more of a creative generalist, or a socially engaged maker. My fascination goes out to people and stories and a more inclusive society. That's why I'm always looking for ways to create impact. And photography is one of the ways to achieve that impact.'

Text: Jowi Schmitz
Eduardo Leòn

Eduardo Leòn

An old family photograph stirred up a memory: at the age of eleven, Eduardo Léon lived with his grandmother in a suburb of Milan where she ran an illegal restaurant. The family had just arrived in Italy from Peru and desperate to earn money. Léon: 'Most of the customers were transvestites. They would walk in as men and then walk out again as beautiful women. This malleability of identity, the exposure to new cultures, and the family feeling of this living room restaurant – looking back, my love of fashion was born from that combination.'

Following his study at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie, Léon established his own fashion brand, avoidstreet, with deliberate attention for the beauty of the everyday. Léon also landed a paid job quickly, including work for the Calvin Klein fashion house, where he learnt about the commercial aspects of the discipline. 'Obviously I wanted to develop avoidstreet, but my paid work always came first. Then corona came along and with that, time for important questions. What kind of an artist do I want to be? How do I want to develop? I tidied up my studio and in doing so came across that old photograph in a family album. The tangibility of discoloured photographic paper gave me a feeling that my laptop never did. I sensed immediately: this is what I want to continue with.'

He has named his collection Piazale Lotto, after the neighbourhood where his grandmother lived. Léon went on a study trip to Peru and returned with a suitcase full of 'sentimental souvenirs', clothing and textiles. As in his previous collection, Léon transforms existing clothing: bought T-shirts become apron dresses, and his aunt sews on Peruvian beads known as 'shakira beads'. Léon's father welds the robust clothes hangers used to display the collection. 'I notice that I have developed as a designer over the course of this last year. In my work I now try out things that are not necessarily commercial, but that do fit with my vision. This boosts my confidence, since I'm more familiar with more aspects of the discipline and at the same time dare to make bold choices. I feel I have more grip on the fashion discipline, on my culture, and on my own goals.'
As an amusing anecdote: Léon also went to Milan, to visit his grandmother. And then he pinched her curtains. 'They had such a beautiful orange colour, and the transparent textile is perfect as an extra layer in my dresses. But of course I bought new curtains for my grandmother, I wouldn't leave her with bare windows!'

Text: Jowi Schmitz
Emilia Tapprest

Emilia Tapprest

Finnish filmmaker and researcher Emilia Tapprest's work seeks to make visible the forces, power dynamics, emotions and atmospheres that occur where man and ideology intersect. She does this in her independent research practice NVISIBLE.STUDIO, together with the Dutch cultural historian Victor Evink. The two explore this interface by asking questions, using various research methods and building 'worlds'. They present the results of their research through audio-visual media, articles, lectures and performances.

The collaboration between Tapprest and Evink began at the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam, where Tapprest obtained the master's degree in film in 2019. Tapprest's background in industrial design was the stepping stone to her research practice. She says: 'I was drawn to the design of tangible user interfaces, to the fact that technology can rewire our senses. But what happens when these new technologies become commonplace? That re-kindled my interest in filmmaking, a medium through which I could explore technologies as part of the big picture.'

This resulted in the Embodied Ambitopias (2021), which focuses on three characters, each of whom lives in a different 'world'. Each world is driven by a different value or belief in a good life which is reflected not only in the way technology is implemented, but in all layers of society. Tapprest: 'With the concept of Ambitopia we aim to break away from the duality of utopian or dystopian thinking and instead raise new political and ethical dilemmas.'

One of these characters is explored further in Scent of Time (2022), the film Tapprest and Evink worked on in the year of the talent development grant. 'It is about a 12-year-old girl who flees into her subconscious, a symbolic space where she can dance her way out of the value paradigms of her real life.' The events on the world stage made the difference between fiction and reality eerily small. During the production process, war broke out in Ukraine. Polina Hordiievska, who played the lead role, had to leave everything behind. 'In the performance adaptation of Scent of Time, she chose two dance improvisations with her mother: one to the music of Beyoncé and one to a Ukrainian song, which is about having no home. A powerful, beautiful and moving representation of her situation.'

Text: Iris Stam
Emirhan Akin

Emirhan Akin

'Recently I've started using the word “exercise” rather than “practice”, says Emirhan Akin in response to a question about his current work practice. 'I see everything I do as an exercise in being. I exercise my different selves by seeking out derangement, estrangement and reprogramming. I have worked as a dishwasher, soldier, fashion designer, editor, cleaner and graphic designer. I see all these “ways of being” as exercises with which I stretch my muscles until something snaps.

After which I can start building another self. This constant exercise often results in a design, a research or performance – which I think I could call my “works”.' For his development programme, Akin sought ways to develop new opportunities, to gain access to new places, and to work together with other people. 'There's never an end point to my projects, instead one thing always leads to another. This grant gave me the opportunity and freedom to invest in my work, to take it one step further and to find a future for it – whatever the outcomes may be.'

His continuous (self-)investigation covers the domains of history, politics and religion, and how these branch out in post- Ottomanism and the repressive structures of Turkish politics and the Islam. 'I don't think that it's the subjects that make my work sensitive, but the ways in which I personally tie them together. It's the route I take when going from one branch to another. What really matters today is how these subjects resonate between people, interpersonally. That's why I decided to spread the research out horizontally, to strengthen the branches between them, so to speak, rather than trying to present a single unambiguous, vertical or spectacular result.'

Akin put on his new performance DUTY-FREE at the Unfair '22 art fair. 'This work can be read as the status quo of my current investigation. It's about the attention economy and the market for performance art, the body's stamina, the issue of censure or self-censure, and the perpetually rotating character of identities. Pretty much all my deliberations come together in this work. In practical terms I was also trying out the positioning of a body, an installation, and a dialogue between the performer and the audience. For a next piece. For more future.'

Text: Lotte Haagsma
Gianna Bottema

Gianna Bottema

Architectural critique is a permanent ingredient in architect Gianna Bottema's work method. She questions the norms and values that underpin the built environment, and makes books on the subject. 'Those books are actually my building projects,' Bottema says, just before flying off to Brazil. There she will study the work of Lina Bo Bardi in the archives of the Museo de Arte de Sao Paulo, who designed the museum in the late 1960s.

She will then continue on to Argentina to study the work of Flora Alicia Manteola, among others. It's all part of her research into the emancipation of the built environment. It started with Home Politics, an analysis of the post-war housing construction in the Netherlands, with the single-family home as the new standard. The hetero-normative worldview, in which the male earns income and the female is at home caring for the children, determined the layout and furnishing of the single-family home, which continues to make up 60 per cent of the current housing stock.

Bottema is investigating the ideas of feminist architects in the 1960s and 70s who took a different view and who managed to evade the designated female role of interior stylist. She started with Ida Falkenberg-Liefrinck, Koos Pot-Keegstra and Luzia Hartsuyker-Curjel in the Netherlands. Their work is presented in her Home Atlas, which will soon be enriched with South American architects. The third phase of her study also kicked off recently: Home Revolution. This phase involves Bottema's own experiments to create a better fit between post-war dwellings and today's hybrid society, which is increasingly open to different roles and identities. 'Life today is so much more colourful than the functional layout of these homes can accommodate. I want to let people decide for themselves how to design their home environment.'

Her goal is to stretch and open up the laws and social conventions that determine the contours of daily life. 'The Building Decree to a large extent sets out how you need to build, but this mainly pertains to quantitative criteria. While the design of a good home is about so much more, it is really an interdisciplinary project.' Using typological incisions and cut-outs, Bottema investigates the outer boundaries of a layout for collective use. She examines the transition from inside to outside and from private to collective, using drawings and models in which she experiments with transformations. A number of these 'spatial fragments' were on display at the Dutch Design Week. And that's just the start: the atlas is becoming thicker all the time. 'For me, this project is a kickstart towards more research into the future of post-war dwellings.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Ivan Čuić

Ivan Čuić

How can you create the best possible conditions for the physical and mental experience of music? Sound designer Ivan Čuić has been researching the matter for years. For his ArtScience bachelor at the Royal Academy of Art/Royal Conservatoire, he wrote the thesis In search of harmonies, for which he studied spatial arrangements for musical experiences. Čuić: 'The quality of sound has a huge impact on one's experience of music. I am interested in how to steer people's behaviour in a physical space, and how the combination with sound can influence the atmosphere within that space.'

According to the sound designer, four elements play a crucial role in the experience of music: the space, the sound, the public and the performer. 'These factors together determine the total experience. My intention is to bring these elements into harmony with each other. To do so I first examine them as separate elements, and then compare my ideas, observations and experiences with the references produced through my research.'

For the element of sound he developed his own sound system, using the best audio components. 'It is a system with three channels, each with its own audio signal, which in turn affects the spatial character of the sound. A stereo soundbar has two audio channels, for example; one left and one right, which come together in the middle. I play the left and right channel simultaneously and add a central channel in the middle. It requires a lot of practice to get that spatial character perfectly aligned.'

'The acoustics of a space is another important element in everything I do. What conditions should a space fulfil so that you can have a high volume without damaging people's ears? This year I was at a festival in Germany. Usually it's impossible to carry on conversations in that situation, but here you could. The sound was produced by the best equipment, but because the echo was reduced and the reflections were filtered, you could understand each other while the music was playing. This is important information for me which I want to explore further.'

As for the other two elements of public and performers: 'At live performances, it is important for the performers to have contact with the public. After all, the performer is there for the audience. Without a live performer, I create settings in which the visitors are invited to fully immerse themselves in the sensation. For instance by placing an inflatable mattress in the space for people to sit on. The mattress is surrounded by acoustic panels and my customised sound system. This way, a musical sensation can also be experienced physically. That's how everything really comes together.'

Text: Maaike Staffhorst
Jarmal Martis

Jarmal Martis

Jarmal Martis was trained in IT: he studied Communication and Multimedia Design at Rotterdam University of Applied Sciences. As a photographer, he is self-taught. What he enjoys is portraying stories that he feels are interesting to tell. The fact that he was awarded the Talent Development Grant as an autodidact was unbelievable at first, he says. 'What I create is important to me, personally. But because the art world is quite new to me, I had no idea how photography experts would judge my work. This confirmation that I am on the right track is great.'

Martis primarily portrays the lives of Dutch citizens with a migratory background. 'I'm one of them myself, from Curaçao,' he says, and states: 'We do not determine our own heritage.' One of Martis's themes is the formation of identity. How do people see themselves? It often starts with the way they were raised by their parents. 'Mothers play a defining role in Antillean society. In addition to working outside of the home, they offer up part of themselves to raise their children.' So it was with his own mother, whom he respects enormously. And Yuli, a secondary school friend whose life he has been capturing on film for the past three years, following her as she brings her children to school, washes the dishes, organises parties.

In addition to the tribute that is Yuli, Martis is also working on other projects. 'One is about the demolition of pre-war homes in Rotterdam's Tweebosbuurt quarter, and how the people living there are dealing with it, considering that many of them have migration backgrounds and are therefore part of my target group.' Another project sees him following the generation of migrants between the ages of forty and fifty. 'These people have been told ever since they were children that they did not belong here, that they had to adapt, which caused many of them to develop a defiant or belligerent attitude. What is it like to feel that way? You can convey a lot with photography, but not everything, so I'm experimenting with a more documentary-like form of storytelling using video and text.' His photo series about the childcare benefits scandal (toeslagenaffaire) is another project for which he is still seeking the right form of expression, having recently met a number of mothers with migration backgrounds who were victimised by this failure of government policy. 'I don't want to just come in and take pictures, like with Yuli and the Tweebosbuurt. I want this project to really contribute to the ongoing discussion about this important topic.'

Text: Iris Stam
Karin Fischnaller

Karin Fischnaller

When do you stop scrolling? When you found the information you were looking for, or when you chance upon something interesting you weren't looking for? Designer Karin Fischnaller is fascinated by the choices people make when browsing the internet. In her studio The Anderen in Amsterdam, she is working on a database detailing how people absorb information online.

Fischnaller obtained her master's degree in Information Design at Design Academy Eindhoven and discovered her mission in unravelling various technologies. For her research project When do you stop scrolling?, she draws on the experience of experts by interviewing journalists, philosophers and designers, and is also attending masterclasses on the subject. 'But I also analyse my own behaviour. I try to figure out what makes me click on a link that catches my interest, and why I subsequently stop reading. I have also started wondering to what extent links that refer to further information truly add more depth. And what are the various ways by which information is conveyed? Can you add humour and lightness to layered, complex information, and to what extent does this happen? And how reliable are the things you read online? In addition, I try to figure out why certain online platforms are so hugely popular, while they don't attract me at all. What has made TikTok such a success, for example?'

Fischnaller admits that these are many and very different questions. It seems an impossible task to piece all these bits together, but she sees it as a challenge and as a great adventure to visualise all her findings as networks. 'Through the connections I make, surprising storylines often appear.'

Another global issue drew her attention previously: why do we see empty shelves in shops? A collaboration ensued with designer Tamara Orjola. 'Whereas she mainly concentrates on research, I tried to map out the whole supply chain. The main question was how one missing component can take the food packaging industry to breaking point. It was quite a challenge to visualise this.'

Fischnaller organises workshops about the accumulated knowledge. Being able to further expand her professional network is an important and welcome side-effect of the talent development grant, she says. 'I have come into contact with people I would otherwise not have been able or not have dared to approach. That's very valuable and stimulating.'

Text: Maaike Staffhorst
Kirsten Spruit

Kirsten Spruit

Kirsten Spruit's work dwells on the theme of 'lingering'; that is, thinking aimlessly, or doing nothing. She is fascinated by the value of time and duration. Doing nothing is generally seen as unproductive and worthless in capitalist value systems, but Spruit believes that it is essential to leading a well-balanced and meaningful life. Spruit, who is a graphic designer with a master's degree in Information Design from Design Academy Eindhoven, also draws on personal experience.

She finds the pressure to perform burdensome, but is a perfectionist at the same time. Time pressure has a mental effect on her. 'In today's digital age, where people usually want to see results as quickly as possible, it is difficult to find room for rest and reflection.' As an issue that everyone is forced to deal with to some extent, Spruit saw the urgent need to address it head-on.

During the talent development year, Spruit developed a method and theoretical framework with respect to doing nothing, productivity and technology. 'I try to strike a balance between the aimless and the purposeful in my way of working. It helps to have a direction or certain rules, precisely in order to safeguard the opportunity to linger and be open to coincidence.' To approach the topic from different angles, Spruit applies various media and disciplines that enable her to create the circumstances, environments or stimuli amenable to contemplation. She uses all her skills to this end: from graphic illustration, drawing and writing to coding, composing and producing radio.

In her research project How to Save Time, Spruit attempts to build a routine around 'lingering' and 'essaying', and she archives these manners of spending time through memos, images, audio and associated meta-data. She also gives herself room to monitor and question her documentation urge and fascination for time duration. She furthermore reflects on the work of others, such as the diary films by Jonas Mekas, also known as the 'godfather of American avant-garde cinema', the time-intensive performances by Tehching Hsieh, and the slow compositions by composer Éliane Radigue. And more personal yet: in her grandfather's archive she discovered that he, too, was inclined to keep track of everything by writing them down, as a way of getting a grip on fleeting time. In her grandfather's carefully kept diaries she found a poetic layer of meta-data.

Spruit's ultimate goal is to capture everything in a time-based medium: an essay film that will draw the audience in. She is supervised in this endeavour by Erik Viskil, professor in Research and Discourse in Artistic Practice at Leiden University.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Leyla-Nour Benouniche

Leyla-Nour Benouniche

Leyla-Nour Benouniche, a.k.a. Captain Nightlight, is creating a series of video registrations of live talk shows on the theme of mental health. The interviews are set in a spaceship in a science fiction world, and the guests are psychiatrists, artists, scientists and more. Each episode is introduced with an opening animation and soundtrack.

The pilot episode of this multimedial video series, titled Clueless Captain, an emotional space odyssee, is aimed at young adults whose voices aren't heard or are not sufficiently reached. Benouniche offers them access to important information about topics such as burnouts, drug and alcohol abuse, depression, fear and panic attacks. A potential future episode would feature Dr Romy to discuss Internet and game addiction. Through this series, Benouniche is creating a platform and a toolkit that exist in a mix of reality and fiction in order to establish a growing community and network to support young people – particularly young queers of colour, who find it difficult to talk about these topics with each other.

Benouniche, a French/Algerian artist, illustrator, video producer, studied Interactive/Media/Design at the Royal Academy of Art. 'Identity and descent were important topics of discussion at the academy, and I became more interested in them through my internship as a video editor for Navild Acosta and Fannie Sosa of Black Power Naps.' For her research, Benouniche examined children's cartoons, talk shows such as Queer Eye of Oprah, science fiction, African mythology and visual codes in queer and diaspora communities. 'I'm still a fan of children's cartoons on YouTube. I used to watch them myself whenever I felt anxious. It's a very accessible way for children to learn about all kinds of subjects, but there doesn't exist anything like it for young adults.' This inspired Benouniche to include cartoons in the pilot episode about anxiety.

For the production, she is collaborating with a co-producer, a graphic designer and a sound designer. She was also advised throughout the process by Joy Mariama Smith and Mary Maggic of (A)wake, who chose Benouniche and other artists from the Asian and North African diasporas for artist-in-residencies at MONO Rotterdam.

In the meantime, Benouniche is working to create more episodes. She has already presented her project at the New Radicalism Festival in MONO Rotterdam, and at Sexyland in the context of the Pride[/I. The pilot episode is launched on yayemma.com in September.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Lieke Jildou de Jong

Lieke Jildou de Jong

Lieke Jildou de Jong, a graduate of Amsterdam's Academy of Architecture, is intrigued by the systems of nature and culture. Her own roots lie in Groningen, where her father was a farmer. She also has the use of a plot of land in the northern province, which she is studying and tending to as part of her development project, Bodemlegger (roughly, 'ground maker'). Every month she makes photographs and videos to document the field's development, which she will subsequently incorporate in a spatial installation. With a bit of luck, this installation will be presented in the huge hall of what was once the Groothandelsmarkt: the creativity hotspot where the landscape architect keeps an office. Describing the field, De Jong say: 'The land was in a poor condition. After working the land and sowing seeds, a sea of flowers grew this summer, which is good for the soil and attracts insects. In September I'll be joining an entomologist to determine exactly which creatures found their way to the plot of land.' De Jong is also working with an analyst to perform field work. 'In an on-site laboratory, we recently examined some of the clay ground with a microscope. Such a tiny bit of earth contains an entire world.'

In all her work, performed through her landscape architecture practice Landscape Collected, she investigates the systems of the natural landscape and how this is affected by the cultural histories of humans. With her Bodemlegger project she aims to create more awareness of this. 'We shouldn't exhaust the soil through intensive agriculture with mono cultures, but should create vitality and a rich soil life, by growing a variety of plants. It is essential to feed the soil, to create a basis. For in that way we will ultimately create fertile ground for ourselves, with healthy crops.'

One of the aspects of her research is to determine the target group of her Bodemlegger project. 'I am increasingly inclined to target the government. For them, water and soil are container concepts, while I would like to take policy makers beyond the surface, to the layers beneath. I want to show them how we can treat the upper layer, and how we can activate the soil's buffer capacities. Through my collaboration with scholars from the Louis Bolk Instituut, the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam and Rijksuniversiteit Groningen, I am increasingly discovering just how clever the ecosystem is. I want to demonstrate that cleverness and the potential for the landscape. Not in a dry way, but in a visual and and intelligible way.'

Text: Iris Stam
Luis Ferreira

Luis Ferreira

Luis Ferreira has set out three paths for his talent development programme. 'I want to develop further in creative coding, want to examine how artists think, and to find my way in the world of art and design.' Ferreira studied computer engineering in Portugal and wound up in Eindhoven in connection with a job. There he discovered the light art festival Glow. He also visited music festivals in the Netherlands and was impressed by the quality of the light shows. It inspired him to start working on his own ideas. 'I had been experimenting with light effects and animations for two or three years, before I discovered that there is such a thing as creative coding, along with a whole surrounding culture.'

In his work Ferreira applies the technical skills he developed as a software developer and robotic researcher to conduct creative experiments. 'I mainly discovered the opportunities for an artistic application of digital technologies in the Netherlands. In Portugal it never seemed feasible to develop a career as an artist.' Previously, Ferreira would initially start a project based on a specific technology. Now he wants to learn how to start from an idea, a concept, and then to figure out how to realise it. 'I have a technical background, the way I think is mainly logical and linear. By engaging with artists and designers, I want to find out how they think.'

Ferreira aims to develop interactive projects on the intersection of the digital and the real world. 'Since a year or so I work a lot with movement, together with a musician based in Eindhoven. We used sensors to record the movements he makes when performing. We then worked with a designer to convert that information into visuals, which then reacted to his movements in real time during a following concert.' He is also working with fashion designer Nicole Plender to create self-moving dresses. This idea turned out to be complex to execute within a short time period. Now they are working on two dresses fitted with LEDs and with animations that respond to the model's movements. Bringing lifeless objects to life and infusing them with a story; that's what Ferreira wants. 'How can you evoke flowing movements and emotions with a technology that essentially consists of just zeroes and ones, yes and no?

His ambition is not so much to develop an autonomous career, but especially to build and be part of a collective of makers. 'I want to work with different artists: dancers, performers, musicians, architects. I believe that the encounter between different disciplines generates the most interesting results.' Ferreira furthermore wants to help give creative coding a place in Eindhoven, contributing to an active community, like the ones already existing in Utrecht and Amsterdam.'

Text: Lotte Haagsma
Maggie Saunders

Maggie Saunders

For her project Striptopia – a strip club 2.0 for millennials – Saunders draws inspiration from her own experience as a professional stripper and her fascination for strip clubs. Like her previous project Moulin Rough and Peep Show Hoes, this project is part of the series Making the (ab)normal. Born in North Caroline, Saunders stopped stripping five years ago. 'It was fun, but very draining emotionally.' She is also a furniture designer, and subsequently decided to study social design at Design Academy Eindhoven.

Her mission is to bring a mainstream audience into contact with the world of strip clubs; a world that many people don't know and about which they might have various prejudices. Following research into strip clubs and in co-creation with sex workers, Saunders managed to present this stigmatised sub-culture in a wholly new light when she tested her ultimate pop-up strip club in Eindhoven's Ketelhuis. 'It was great to see so many young but also older people in the audience. There was an inclusive and queer vibe in the air, everyone was exuberant and wanted to show who and what they are. And the visitors were pleasantly surprised. We had a diverse company of local strippers and pole dancers, dancing together. Two worlds met on stage.'

Saunders's Striptopia is a young, fresh and pleasant alternative to the traditional and near-obsolete strip clubs. She brings the strip club 2.0 to life, creating a more interactive setting where the rules of the outdated men's club no longer apply. Despite having worked with 'experience designer' Henrique Nascimento, social media expert Yema Lumumba, and Joel Blanco, professor at the School of Design in Madrid (ESD Madrid), Saunders continues to do a lot by herself. She isn't just the producer of Striptopia, but also designs objects with furniture designers Gian Maria Della Rata and Giorgio Gasco, the décor, some of the clothing, the light and the technology that interact with the dancers.

You can see her strip club as an interactive journey, a spatial experience where new forms of social interaction between the audience and sex workers emerge. To this end, Saunders is developing a number of totems that are positioned centrally in the space and that interact with customers' app requests. The mobile app furthermore ensures a better and more transparent pay system, offering sex workers and dancers a greater degree of financial autonomy.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Marcel Mrejen

Marcel Mrejen

In the near future, the bay of the town of Paimpol, Brittany, will become home to a number of metal, glass and plastic objects. Invisible during high tide, they emerge when the waters recede, communicating with each other through sound, light and temperature. This series of sculptures, titled Tidal Symbionts, is part of the Experimental & Post Digital Art Trail Refresh/Episode 1: Bloom, which is set to open in Paimpol next year. 'I saw that specific place as an interesting inspiration to develop something underwater,' says Marcel Mrejen with regard to Tidal Symbionts, his site-specific, multisensory installation that uses underwater sensors and Augmented Reality.

The project is not quite ready yet, though. Mrejen is currently developing his own platform, a server to connect the sculptures with each other. To that end, he is collaborating with engineer Iyas Dalati and web developer Dorian Chouteau to help him program the sculptures and develop the required software and interfaces. Mrejen has also performed field research along the coast of Brittany, developed forms and structures for his machines and conducted material experiments to determine how his objects will fare underwater.

A native of France, Marcel Mrejen studied graphic design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie, graduating in 2018. However, his professional practice soon evolved into a multidisciplinary approach that combines technology, art and science. Mrejen makes frequent use of digital media, such as AI, AR, video and multimedia installations, to make his audience aware of the effects of digital culture on the ecosystems we live in. 'I use technology to take a different approach to learning, and to better understand the world we live in. It's a tool that makes it possible to look at and listen to the ecosystem in new ways.' His new series of sculptures illustrate this: some have sensors that regulate temperature, others have light sensors.

This creates a hybrid system of non-human creatures that communicate with each other, activate and influence each other, and adapt to their environment. Essentially, they are clever machines that were not made for their environment, but do exchange information and respond to each other, the same way that organisms in nature do.Tidal Symbionts may result in a publication or film about the installation in France.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Marko Baković

Marko Baković

Shoe designer and maker Marko Baković is attracted to working at the interface of traditional and digital design and production processes. Following his Masters Footwear at the London College of Fashion, commissions by fashion designers and performers came pouring in. As one particular highlight, Baković designed a pair shoes for none other than Beyoncé. 'It was kind of unreal to receive the measurements of Beyoncé's legs by email.'

Baković long cherished the wish to start his own brand in order to produce autonomous work. 'I often experiment while performing commissioned work. Many of those try-outs never see the light of day. But now I can incorporate these things in my own line of shoes.' The financial leeway afforded him by the talent development grant enabled Baković to concentrate on his own brand, Baković Studio, and to develop further as a maker and a professional. With three collections already released, Baković Studio has a distinctive work method: Baković sends his design to a producer, who then supplies him with a semi-finished product. Baković then finishes the shoe in his own studio. 'I can do things in my studio that they can't or won't do in the factory, because they aren't cost effective. A factory's foremost goal is to make money, while I am interested in innovation.'

In the past year, Baković has learned a lot about the tension between creativity and innovation versus profitability. 'Of course it's not easy to sell a pair of shoes with a price tag of two thousand euros. But the design and production process of my shoes is very time-consuming. I always ask myself: how can I scale up this product? How can I achieve the same impact but at lower production costs?' Baković continues to experiment with materials and techniques. 'I regularly use a type of scanner that is also used in the orthopaedic industry. I can scan a physical last with it, and then continue to work on it digitally. That way a dialogue emerges between the analogue and the digital.'

He has also started exploring the world of synthetic rubber. 'I started experimenting with this material in my studio on a small scale. Right now I'm working with a partner in the automotive industry to see whether we can develop this further. For this type of a project, I communicate with various industries and suppliers. Such collaborations I find interesting. That's the direction I want to pursue.'
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Text: Merel Kamp
Munganyende Hélène Christelle

Munganyende Hélène Christelle

As a publicist and art critic, Munganyende Hélène Christelle is passionate about a wide range of subjects. Her work mostly focuses on contemporary political movements, with popular culture as the main topic. Last year she used typography as a political tool with which to formulate an important design issue: who gets to say what design is? Thus, under the working title of Times New Thotiana, she is examining the future of typography design.

Her starting point is the Central African cultural heritage of imigongo. In Rwanda, where Christelle grew up in Kigali's migrant chambers, imigongo is a centuries-old art form with a strong visual idiom that is especially popular among women as a form of expression. 'The imigongo practitioners use geometric shapes to decorate walls and earthenware with patterns that carry textual meaning. They are like modern hieroglyphs.'

Christelle interrogates the classic image of 'the designer' and is curious to see how she, as a publicist, can contribute to a design world in which non-western design can be brought from the periphery to the centre. 'I aim to develop a modern design methodology based on the imigongo tradition. You cannot modernise industries if you ignore popular culture, the culture of the young masses. Hence the title of my research, as a bit of a humorous reference to the innovative power that my digital generation can offer the design world.'

To place her encompassing vision in an international context, she spent six months making working trips to other design cities that are developing their own authority in the margin, such as Accra and Dakar. In Dakar she visited the Biennale of Contemporary African Art. 'Besides the official programme, there is an equally large OFF programme held in living rooms, independent galleries and boutiques. There you discover work that you won't encounter in the established institutions.'

Christelle was able to make important strides during the research year, also regarding how she thinks about her own practice. 'An art gallery owner in Dakar said to me: “It's not just a matter of political urgency. It's also about the beauty of our work. For if my life does not serve beauty, then what purpose does it serve?”'

Following her research period, Christelle will now embark on the phase of collaborating. In the Werkplaats Typografie (typography department at Artez) she will curate a critical design practice with collective lectures and group exhibitions, in collaboration with colleagues from the art, culture and design disciplines.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Octave Rimbert-Rivière

Octave Rimbert-Rivière

They immediately attract attention: the teapots and countless cups in the Amsterdam workshop of designer and ceramicist Octave Rimbert-Rivière. They are often brightly coloured, with a slight sheen, some taut and angular, others seductively opulent with deliberately applied irregularities or, on the contrary, monstrously grotesque with wounds in the even surface. At his graduation at Het Hem in 2020, Rimbert-Rivière displayed for the first time more than a hundred pieces on two large tables, exhibited as a massive crowd of wacky creatures. He then continued to make the disruptive tableware, as an addictive and educational continuation of a project that once began as a joke.

The French Rimbert-Rivière, who has now lived in the Netherlands for four years, explains: 'I wanted to explore the link between handcraft practices and new technologies such as 3D printing. A cup, a universal object that has been made since time immemorial, was the first pretext to add sculptural characteristics to an everyday object. 3D software allowed me to stretch, deform and displace simple geometric shapes, resulting in unexpected combinations. This is how I blended the use of the computer with traditional techniques to create distorted tableware in a really playful way. I like to produce ceramics that catch the attention for their seductive materiality and their monstrous aspect, but that are still functional.'

Rimbert-Rivière passionately pours his love for craft into his objects, through techniques that he partly made his own with the help of online tutorials. He is very glad that the talent development grant helped him acquire practical experience from masters such as ceramist Marianne Peijnenburg, mould maker Frans Ottink and glass expert Steef Hendriks. In an earlier stage he worked with artist and game designer Guillaume Roux. 'It was the first time I could learn advanced techniques from experts and bring them back into my processes. Working with professionals gave me the chance to push forward my creative output, optimise production, and start running my own ceramic workshop.'

A publication about his work is planned for the final phase of the talent development grant, which he will make with graphic designer Alex J. Walker. His objects will also be exhibited physically and online. Rimbert-Rivière concludes: 'I found it extremely enriching to work closely with experts that are at the forefront of the digital and craft realms.'

Text: Iris Stam
Patricia Mokosi

Patricia Mokosi

Fashion designer Patricia Mokosi was born in Congo, raised in Eindhoven, and currently lives in Amsterdam. She derives her inspiration from her turbulent youth. She is fascinated by everything relating to the audio-visual, the spiritual and the occult. In the past year, Mokosi has concentrated on further developing her label On God by Tries.
Renske van Vroonhoven

Renske van Vroonhoven

'How hard can it be?', Renske van Vroonhoven thought when she started exploring the world of smell on her own. It turned out to be rather more complex, but by now Van Vroonhoven is very comfortable in this world and very effective at conjuring up the past using fragrances. 'Smell is an intimate portal that can immediately evoke memories.'

In many of her (multi-disciplinary) projects, Van Vroonhoven attempts to gain and prolong access to the past. For example, last year she was on Jersey working with artists Thomas Buckley and Ned Lawlor to create Memory Bar: a series of performances in the form of a cocktail evening, through which to evoke memories of the island's occupation during the Second World War and making these palpable for a diverse audience. To do so, the three collected stories from (elderly) island inhabitants.

'One lady told us that she had felt so hungry in a hot summer during the occupation that she tore bits of asphalt from the melting roadways and rolled them into balls, and ate them as if they were toffees.' This memory became part of a multi-media five-course dinner. Visitors tasted (edible) birch tar from a 'black path' laid out on their table while listening to the island inhabitant's story, and her memories were projected on their table as visual translations.

'Visitors were really made to wonder: “ugh, am I eating tar here?” We try to let people not only relive an event from the past, but also seek to create a physical experience to mirror its impact. It should really hit home.' For another memory Van Vroonhoven composed the fragrance of a garden on Jersey in summer. 'I have now learnt how I can design a fragrance. An aromatic substance called stemone smells like torn leaves, green figs and stems, for example. Lavender and thyme also grow widely on Jersey, so you need to add some of that. But you also need to take account of the fact that some elements dissipate more quickly than others.'

Van Vroonhoven is currently developing her own product line while following a two-year research programme in Cambridge, allowing her to concentrate fully on scent as her material of choice. She applies the knowledge thus gained to her own educational programme for a Dutch art academy. 'Did you know that the Romans at their banquets would sometimes drench doves in fragrance and have them fly around the room? And here's us thinking we're breaking new ground…'

Text: Merel Kamp
Robbert Doelwijt Jr.

Robbert Doelwijt Jr.

'“A black film maker with autism wants to make a film”; that's basically what my application for the talent development grant boiled down to. I wanted to take position and felt called on to speak on behalf of a group.' Self-taught audio-visual maker Robbert Doelwijt jr. was born in Amsterdam's Bijlmer district, with Surinamese parents whose roots reach back to Nigeria, Sierra Leone, China and Indonesia. Enough groups on whose behalf to speak, then, and enough inspiration to make a film that records his identity as a black bi-cultural male.

But so much has happened since. 'Being awarded the grant gave me the courage to believe much more strongly in myself as an artist. And that awareness caused me to understand that my quest is not about labels. I am not a “black maker”, or a “neurodiverse maker in the autism spectrum”. I am a maker, and that's it. Someone who processes his own experiences in his work. So the subject remained the same, but now the emphasis is on the work, rather than on the person making the work.'

The sense of being an artist has also influenced Doelwijt's other plan: a one-month residency in Tokyo, which has been postponed to 2023 due to corona. 'During my residency in Tokyo I'll be doing an experimental film project that explores the role of jazz in Tokyo. The two months leading up to that, when I'll be travelling around Japan, won't be about jazz but are mainly intended to draw me out of my comfort zone.'

According to Doelwijt, it's a question asked by numerous black people in the diaspora: what position do I dare to claim for myself? For example, can you be welcome in the world of jazz but in a country like Japan, where foreigners are sometimes viewed with suspicion? 'I don't know what the trip has in store for me. Perhaps I'll suddenly feel really at home in a Japanese Afro barbershop. Or in some other place entirely. You rarely see black people travelling in films, generally they stay at home. But I do want to see them travelling, so through my journey, I become the black man I would like to see in a film. A man on a quest, outside his comfort zone. He knows that he's engaging in an experiment, and that he's going to discover something. But what that something is isn't clear.'

Text: Jowi Schmitz
Rosen Eveleigh

Rosen Eveleigh

Graphic designer Rosen Eveleigh studied at ArtEZ's Werkplaats Typografie. In their practice they examine how queer and trans individuals use graphic design to communicate and represent themselves. They focus on the Netherlands in the context of the HIV/ Aids crisis of the 1970s, 80s and 90s. With a series of collaborative intergenerational oral histories and workshops, Eveleigh researches this queer and trans history from a contemporary viewpoint. Their aim is to gain new insights into the relationship between queerness and graphic design in the Netherlands.
Rossel Chaslie

Rossel Chaslie

After a busy year that included a residency with The Black Archives, a cover for Antonlogie; verhalen over het gedachtegoed van Anton de Kom, a mural for Weltmuseum Wien and illustrations and a television appearance connected with the documentary De opstand op de Neptunus – the Dutch ship that exploded off the Ghanaian coast in 1785 following a revolt by the enslaved people on board – illustrator, animator and writer Rossel Chaslie chose to slow down for a moment, and to regain his bearings on his own practice.

'As Nina Simone said, it is an artist's task to reflect the time you live in and the community you are part of,' says Chaslie. The moral duty of activism and representations – which members of a minority are often quick to feel – is like a red thread running throughout his work. But the task can also be stifling: 'I am grateful and proud that I, as a maker of colour with a political message, am chosen for assignments and can earn money that way. But I am more than only an activist and also want to explore other sides to myself.'

And so Chaslie chose to slow down, to create the opportunity for self-reflection. He accepted fewer assignments and moved away from animation. 'I want to do more with storytelling, but working on an animation on my own doesn't make me happy and the outcome rarely covers the costs.' Chaslie instead rediscovered one of his earliest loves: the comic strip. He placed on open call for a 'comic anthology' and invited five writers to write a story. Chaslie will then convert these stories into a comic, using a different medium and style for each. 'This way I can research which style suits me best.'

Chaslie also undertook a research trip to his native Suriname to trace the stories from his mother's youth and to visit historically significant places, such as former plantations. 'Black history will always have a role in my work, but I also have a passion for science fiction. What will Paramaribo look like in the year 2500?' Ultimately Chaslie aims to embed his mother's stories in wider (partly fictitious) narratives about the past, present and future of Suriname and to convert the stories into a graphic novel, Sranang Stories.

During his year of reflection, Chaslie regained control over his own story and positioning as a maker. 'I believe in long-term activism, and from now on I mainly wish to create work to leave a legacy that will still be meaningful fifteen years from now.'

Text: Merel Kamp
Shaquille Veldboom

Shaquille Veldboom

Shaquille Veldboom wanted to become an engineer, but in his head and heart he was already a car designer. With a car mechanic as a grandfather, he knew how to put together a car from a young age on. 'I know how to design machines and cars and could make this my profession. But then there are all sorts of rules and safety requirements involved in developing such high-grade products that people will actually use. And then I discovered that, besides designing things, I also really like to tell stories.' He discovered that his design skills were a perfect fit with the games industry, where you are entirely free to decide how something works and can be used. Veldboom: 'In a game you can let the physical and digital worlds merge. With today's programs, the sky is the limit. And you hardly need to do any programming on your own. But if I do need some further technical know-how, then I know where to find it. Just YouTube and a technically-minded father are already a huge font of knowledge.'

Veldboom is currently developing his own video game called GodSpeed, which means 'good luck' or 'have a good trip'. For this game he designed a micro-car. The player needs to collect the car components, and once the car is complete you can start racing other players. But it's not just about playing games for Veldboom.

The ability to share personal experiences and knowledge through games, and to inspire others with a good story, is also an important element. 'In GodSpeed you follow main character Grio Yggdrasil, who lives in Amsterdam Zuidoost just like me. The name means “transmitter”. Grio is my alter ego. When he starts creating his own car brand, I let him discover all sorts of things. The educational aspect is that I take the players along in the process of developing innovations. These discoveries and inventions help the players to advance in the game. This is my way of transferring knowledge.'

In the past year, Veldboom further developed his skills in 3D design and in telling interactive stories. He hopes to couple the presentation of GodSpeed to the presentation of a 3D version of the game's micro-car.

Text: Maaike Staffhorst
Stefan Duran

Stefan Duran

As a motion designer, it is Stefan Duran's ambition to develop further in the field of animation, increasing the medium's expressive power. His research was stimulated by the commercialisation of hip hop and the way this subculture is losing its critical voice and position. Duran's question is, 'how can I combine music, dialogue and animation to convey a profound and socially relevant story?'
Sterre Richard

Sterre Richard

Sterre Richard graduated with honours from the Illustration programme at the Willem de Kooning Academy in Rotterdam. But this versatile cartoonist, working under the name of Sterric, has no interest in preening her feathers and repeating her tricks. Her illustration idiom is determined by the story she wants to tell. And her target group is diverse, ranging from young people to adults and everyone in between. She also has no interest in the cliché romantic stories, where character A and character B initially detest each other, are forced to cooperate because of some adventurous twist, and end up discovering they were made for each other. Her first graphic novel runs counter to this template. 'De Vloek van Rood instead begins with a happy relationship. Conflict then begins to build due to outside forces.'

Sterric creates the kind of books that she would personally love to read. This has resulted in a wide variety of productions that combine feminist themes, European folklore and history. 'I'm also rather fond of occult horror stories, written from a female perspective. As a teenager I was first drawn to this through Japanese shoujo manga comics, intended for girls between ten and sixteen years old. They were first imported in Europe around the turn of the millennium.'

With the talent development grant, Sterric is now working on a research project about shoujo manga. 'The number of female cartoonists has increased substantially in recent years. Although their illustration style is different, you can tell by the structure of the story that they, like me, read a lot of manga in their youth. I am collaborating with a German PhD student, specialised in Japanese culture in Europe, to research whether this increase has also occurred outside the Netherlands. If this proves to be so, then I want to team up with cartoonists from various European countries to create a tribute book to the manga artists that inspired us, with essays and illustrations.'

Sterric mainly works with digital techniques. 'I do enjoy analogue techniques, but then particularly the colouring is a challenge. I am now studying materials and techniques that achieve a smooth and rapidly drying result, so that I will be able to release my first graphic novel created using analogue techniques in the near future. I also want to do an intensive workshop in order to develop further in terms of literary ability. It feels hugely liberating to have that opportunity, thanks to the grant.'

Text: Iris Stam
Süheyla Yalçin

Süheyla Yalçin

As the daughter of parents with a migration background, audio-visual maker Süheyla Yalçin focuses on forgotten parts of Turkish history. In her project The Diaspora Designer, she questions who is entitled to define what design is in a critical and satirical manner.
Tabea Nixdorff

Tabea Nixdorff

Most archives mainly consist of documents, with the written word treated as the most important means of conveying information. Tabea Nixdorff makes extensive use of archives for her research projects, but her focus is on traces that go beyond the written text: what are embodied forms of knowledge that have not been documented? Nixdorff sees body language, oral conveyance, song and other 'instruments', for instance weaving looms, as highly valuable sources with which marginalised stories can be traced and shared.

Nixdorff graduated from the Werkplaats Typografie in Arnhem and has been working since as an artist, typographer and researcher. She writes, designs and publishes books, compiles audio-collages and organises social gatherings focused on affective knowledge sharing. Her projects are always interwoven with the personal, in search of queer belonging, and seek to claim or reclaim so-called 'feminine' labour.

She has been researching the history of feminist networks and movements in the Netherlands for the past two years, initiated by an exhibition project commissioned by Het Nieuwe Instituut in Rotterdam. For this project she is working closely with architect and researcher Setareh Noorani. Together they are attempting to transcend the exhibition by creating intergenerational networks of solidarity and friendship, to (re)imagine the design of the social. The project also inspired Nixdorff to start her own series of publications called Archival Textures, aimed at disseminating ephemeral archive materials such as letters, notes and typewritten manuscripts.

In the past year Nixdorff also worked on her research project su-sur-rous, which she describes as 'a quest for under-represented biographies of those who, through the hybridisation of their body with musical instruments, machines or other technologies, have developed alternative languages.' For this she is also consulting sound artists and poets.

Poetry is a recurrent reference point for Nixdorff. Some time ago she became fascinated by the errata sometimes found on a paper slip in books. 'I wanted to know more about it. Errata are lists of corrections that were overlooked during the production process. As such they cast light on the making of a publication and on the often under-exposed work by an editorial team. Reading errata as a text of its own unintentionally evokes a poetic quality.' She wrote an essay about her research and created a book in which the errata are presented as lines of poetry. The talent development grant enabled her to continue with her work and portfolio. 'It has stimulated me to continue my professional development.'

Text: Maaike Staffhorst
Tobie van Putten

Tobie van Putten

The NEW TOOB online shop offers a number of unique pieces for sale. All made personally by Tobie van Putten. He often designs as he goes along, while operating the sewing machine. Van Putten does not sketch a collection but starts with an illustration, which he then morphs into a screen-printed pattern on textile. Only then does the process of designing clothing begin. The resulting clothes are striking, colourful, cheerful. And it's infectious. 'It's very much me, who I am and what I want to wear,' says Van Putten. 'I like to add more colour to the world. Even on a normal weekday, why not stand out from the crowd?'

It meant a lot to him to receive the talent development grant. 'I was stitching away on an ancient sewing machine and didn't know what hit me when I heard I was awarded the grant of 25,000 euros. I never had any money.' The grant enabled him to purchase three professional sewing machines: a lockmachine, a tricot overlocker and a straight stitch sewing machine. For a moment he feared it might have been a bad investment, since it took him almost two months to learn to operate them, technically. Now he can't imagine life without them. 'This year I really grew with regard to my craftsmanship.'

A second turning point was his discovery of circular knitting in the TextielLab in Tilburg. He brought photographs of models wearing his clothing against a background of screen-printed and airbrushed illustrations. Those images were then converted into textile using the circular knitting machine. Knitting was a huge discovery for him: 'Previously I always used screen-printing, but the technique has some drawbacks when it comes to clothing. The print reduces the textile's stretch, causing the textile to break over time.' But whatever you knit into textile remains supple. Van Putten will process the results in a new outfit, but not all results. 'Right now I'm spanning a textile, and it's so cool. I could watch the process all day long.'

The knitted cloths will be displayed in October at the Dutch Design Week. He will also present the results of his experiments with denim there. 'Until now I've been working with jogging textiles, but it can be a bit more fancy, I think. I am making denim jackets with beautifully deep colours and prints.' Van Putten expects to be ready for his first solo exhibition in November, most likely in a shop somewhere in Amsterdam. 'I was immersed in an intensive production process for a long time. But at the end of this year it's time to present the results to the general public.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Yuro Moniz

Yuro Moniz

'At a certain point I suddenly got this feeling that I needed to make very big vases', says Yuro Moniz. Felt it, done it! Working as a video editor until that point, Moniz travelled to South Korea to spend a week learning the ceramic taryeom technique from a master ceramist. This technique involves creating a work by stacking coils of clay and then shaping them together.

'In Korea they traditionally make large pots by hand, so without a wheel, for example for the purpose of fermenting food.' It often requires the ceramist to sit in an intimate embrace with the emerging pot, with a coil of clay draped over their shoulder. The physical encounter with the material, without the intervention of any tool or equipment, and the inevitable imperfections of the end product, are what attracts Moniz. 'The clay tells me what to do. I start with an idea, form or purpose, but at a certain point the material and my intuition take over.' With her handwork, Moniz wants to get away from western technological perfection, to return to the essence of what, in her view, it means to be human. 'We need to turn inwards again, we're too caught up in externalities.'

In the coming period Moniz will further investigate the ceramic craft, taking her own identity as starting point. 'I have Surinamese, Hindu, Chinese and Portuguese blood, and so I want to study what the ceramist's craft looked like and looks like in Suriname, India, China and Portugal, and to discover as many local techniques and design idioms as possible. What are the stories that go with these traditions? And what is actually my own story, as a maker?' Later in the year, Moniz will be conducting research at The Black Archives and fulfilling a residency at the EKWC (European Ceramic Work Centre), and going on a study trip to Morocco. Moniz also contacted the Crafts Council Nederland. 'This programme is actually where my professional future begins.'

In the end, the craft is a way of life for Moniz. 'What I would most like to do is to travel around the world with my family to find places where people still live authentically and to learn about the local ceramic techniques and associated stories.' Moniz wants to return to Korea and travel to Mexico, but also to Japan to visit a ceramist who makes bathtubs by hand. 'I want to acquire as much knowledge about this craft as possible, before this knowledge dies out.'

Text: Merel Kamp
Zalán Szakács

Zalán Szakács

Zalán Szakács obtained his Man and Communication bachelor's degree from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2017. Two years later he started the master's programme in Media Design: Experimental Publishing, at the Piet Zwart Instituut in Rotterdam. He describes himself on his website as 'a post-digital artist, audio-visual performer and researcher of media theories'. He finds it fascinating to analyse forgotten technologies of the past. 'How were these devices made and used, and when? How were they seen and assessed in their time? I also examine contemporary technologies and anticipate future developments. I translate all of this input into interactive installations that capture ideas from the past, present and future. These are wondrous creations of light, sound and smell, that give people a sense of timelessness.'

Szakács devoted the past year to working on Lichtspiel, among other things. For this project he studied optics and the use of light in the seventeenth century. He also explored the symbolism associated with light. 'At that time, light was not just functional but often told a story as well. Even the shape of a light source could be metaphorical, such as an oil lamp in the shape of a rooster, referring to the rising sun and to God.' In his research he worked with experts from various knowledge centres: TU Delft, Utrecht University and Rijksmuseum Boerhaave in Leiden, which owns the world's largest collection of seventeenth-century lenses. 'Without the support of the Fund I would never have been able to work with these experts. This grant has given me so much opportunity and time', he says.

This also applies for Tisztás, another project Szakács simply loves. For this he travelled to the area where he lived until the age of 12: Transylvania in Romania. With a local guide, video crew, an entrepreneur who knows a lot about traditions and folk music, a Berlin fragrance artist, a sound artist and his mentor, he treks through the mountains to investigate how the mystical landscape has influenced the local inhabitants and cultural heritage. The collected materials will again result in an installation that is sure to move people, perhaps even bring them to tears. As Szakács passionately concludes: 'Knowing that my work has such an effect on people makes me emotional, in turn.'

Text: Iris Stam
 Gabriel Fontana

Gabriel Fontana

To which team do you belong? Who can, and should participate? Who gets the ball? To which dressing room do you have access? In the recent work of social designer and researcher Gabriel Fontana, (team) sports are seen as a metaphor and model for society at large: 'Sports are pre-eminently a normative and often exclusive domain. There are gender-specific rules concerning behaviour and appearance. Moreover, not all bodies are able to participate in every sport.' Fontana observed how social norms are propagated, internalised and reproduced in sports education and decided to investigate and reshape this practice.

'I had people play mixed team sports in silence and saw that girls got the ball more often and felt more at ease because usually it's mainly boys who shout each other's names,' says Fontana. This raised the question of the voice's role in the production and reproduction of social norms. For the Voice and (Hear)archies project, Fontana designed a series of sports games that use the voice and listening in a new way.

Fontana, whose father was a sports teacher, works at various art academies and sees education as an extremely political context. The production and reproduction of social norms and identities take place not only during sports education but also in the interiors and design of educational institutes' physical space. His project Safer Landscapes responds to this and offers a Queering Manual, a practical set of interventions that institutions and teachers can use to disrupt the usual norm-affirming practices and achieve a more inclusive physical context.

Fontana, who works at the intersection of sociology and design, enjoys collaborating with people from different disciplines to broaden his understanding. 'Ultimately,' he says, 'every form of design is inherent in social design.' Design produces and reproduces ideologies. 'It is important to recognise the complexity of the issues you deal with as a designer, and to recognise one's responsibility.'


Text: Merel Kamp
Andrius Arutiunian

Andrius Arutiunian

Andrius Arutiunian is a composer and sound artist who received his BA and MA from the Royal Conservatory in The Hague. His hybrid practices include multimedia installations and audiovisual live performances that investigate the cultural and social histories of different, often peripheral communities. In 2017 for example, he researched the Armenian diaspora and disco music by collecting cassette tapes and records from the 1970s and 1980s. Arutiunian then released a limited-edition record, drawing upon the sounds of these sonic artefacts. 'The project examines how people interact with vernaculars, how they express their cultural histories, and the extent to which a periphery can reveal who we are and our place in the world.'

Arutiunian's The Irresistible Power of Silent Talking is an audiovisual installation based on the automated system of the iBorderCtrl algorithm. 'This algorithm recognises the facial expressions of migrants entering the European Union. Recognising the necessity for a critical stance towards technology and the political implications of using violent forms of surveillance underpin my work.' In a poetic way, Arutiunian questions the use of technology as a political instrument in migration. 'I am currently conducting research which stems from my fascination with the word “gharib”, or “foreigner'' in English.' The word originates from Arabic and Farsi and also occurs in Armenian and Greek. It differs from the Western interpretation of a foreigner as “the other'' and is more aligned with the idea of belonging to something without being a part of it.'

Arutiunian is also involved with music events outside of the regular social or legal norms and rhythms such as night-time raves. 'The periphery is a safe haven for marginalised communities and a way to escape the focus of oppressive systems.' Arutiunian has recently spoken with curators, writers, philosophers and scientists from various disciplines to create a performance which revolves around instrument tuning and its link to alternative sonic realities. 'In the future, I hope to take this collaborative approach through conversations into my practice and develop it into publications about belonging and nocturnal sonic events.'


Text: Manique Hendricks
Asefeh Tayebani
Asefeh Tayebani
Asefeh Tayebani
Asefeh Tayebani

Asefeh Tayebani

'But you don't look autistic'. Asefeh Tayebani heard that sentence many times at the Graduation Show of the Gerrit Rietveld Academy, where she exhibited her graduation project to the press and public in 2018. Less than six months earlier she was diagnosed with autism. 'It's difficult to explain to others what that exactly means', Tayebani says. 'I noticed that what I said was often not understood or believed.' With the project Precious Burden she chose to let others feel it. Three wearable accessories let you physically experience what it's like to be hypersensitive in terms of proximity, touch, sound and eye contact. Ever felt a paralyzing shock when someone touches you? Experienced ambient noise as deafening? Or not being able to look someone straight in the eye?

Nevertheless, she kept hearing that one sentence. It became the title of her next project, which Tayebani started with the support of Creative Industries Fund NL. Soon the online platform butyoudontlookautistic.nl will be launched, specifically for women with autism. 'Almost everything you can find about this disorder is geared towards men', says Tayebani. 'Women often don't get the diagnosis until later in life, I was already thirty. And even then there is a lot of disbelief; after all, you can't see it on the outside.' In the past year she has conducted a lot of research, collected personal stories, and worked together with graphic designer Fallon Does on an autism-friendly web design that does not put off the target group. 'A lot of websites I find difficult to deal with; I tune out when there's too much going on on the screen', says Tayebani. Therefore, in this design extra attention has been paid to an orderly layout, without excessive information overload and bright colors.

Removing stigmas from illnesses and making the invisible visible; these are themes that inform much of Tayebani's work. For example, she conducted material research into healing 'wounds' in materials. After a course in clothing repair, where she learned to darn socks with a needle and thread, to lock frayed edges and repair tears, she decided to apply the same technique to metal. Leaving Traces shows copper as you have never seen it before; no smooth, tightly polished surfaces, but sheets with dents, folds, scratches and holes. The visible care with which they have been repaired with copper wire is touching. They were broken, but that is no longer relevant; during the repair process, they have only become more beautiful.


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Audrey Large

Audrey Large

Audrey Large's work oscillates accurately between the digital and the analogue. She doesn't see the computer as a means of reproducing reality, but rather one that produces reality itself. She wants to use digital technology as a tabula rasa where new forms can spontaneously arise. 'I am a designer, but I produce sculptures. I produce files that may become objects. That's where I can make a difference; not so much in making objects, but in shifting the methodology from object design towards making sculptures.' Her design activity focuses on designing files which can be materialised in different ways: digitally as a three-dimensional drawing or tangibly as a 3D printed object.

Over the course of the past year she created work for an exhibition at the Nilufar Gallery in Milan. The show was presented in several different forms. As 'a first chapter', she made an experimental website that allows the viewer to get close to the work's origin: the file. The website shows a floating tangle of irregularly shaped objects that can be pulled apart and viewed from every angle. The objects seem impossible to 'bring to life', but Large has also 3D printed these shapes. For the willing viewer, their functions seem simple – a table or a shelf – because we simply have different expectations of design than of art. 'I use function as a 'sign', says the designer.

Large considers the digital form to be just as 'real' as the printed form. No hierarchy exists between the online presentation and the arrangement of objects in the gallery. The modes of presentation highlight different aspects of her approach and show different materialisations of the files. 'People always see the physical outcome, but that's just one possible manifestation of the file. I always like to ponder the file's potential and materiality.' She pays a lot of attention to the object's perception and its tactile qualities, both digitally and physically. The choices for the design's execution – size, material, colour – are endless. Hence the title of the online part of the exhibition: Scale to Infinity.


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Bodil Ouédraogo

Bodil Ouédraogo

Designer Bodil Ouédraogo is always busy with the art of 'dressing up', the rules concerning how garments should be worn and the meanings associated with them. Her interest focuses specifically on fashion related to her West African and Northwestern European heritage. She is searching for connections between the garments of these cultures and for ways to integrate them into her own work.

'In Black Culture, there is so much etiquette surrounding fashion that forces you to take up space. This affects me, showing that one should dare to be visible and take pride in that. Consciously positioning yourself, being aware of this and occupying space intrigues me, especially as someone from the African diaspora. I would like to understand all these elements and translate them into the here and the now. How can I reconnect these dots' Indeed, such connections are of great value; 'The more of those connections you find, the bigger your web becomes and the more enriching and grounded your existence, making it more valuable and intimate for me to be who I am.'

During her Talent Development year, Ouédraogo worked on two projects that she will present during different editions of Amsterdam Fashion Week. She based the first presentation on a previously made video tutorial where four models from Burkina-Faso demonstrate how to wear a grand boubou; a large, stiff, waxed fabric robe that you have to keep moving in order for it to look good. She then asked a choreographer to create a dance based on this video tutorial. The outcome literally portrays carrying the weight of the heavy grand boubou but also the weight you carry as a person of color. The original video is then projected onto the dancers' transparent outfits, designed by Ouédraogo and inspired by the grand boubou: thus, completing the circle.

The grand boubou is also the starting point for her second presentation. She has designed a capsule collection in collaboration with clothing brand Patta, where she translates the folds and wrinkles of the wax fabric into a fabric pattern. She plays with the oversized aesthetic characteristics of both the grand boubou and hip-hop fashion. The presentation is an installation – a 'living still life' – in which Ouédraogo places the models within a landscape she has created from African sculptures, influences from 1970s West African photography, and African diaspora streetwear.


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Cleo Tsw

Cleo Tsw

A grant from Creative Industries Fund NL allowed graphic designer Cleo Tsw the freedom to create autonomously: alongside her commissioned work, she was given space to be able to take a critical look at the world and how we shape it. 'Designers organize information, that's what design basically is. The way they do this is influenced by everything they have experienced in their lives.' The fact that she herself comes from Singapore, a British colony until 1963, also influences her work, which she calls anti-colonial – but it is much broader than that. It resists imposed frameworks and therefore prefers not to explain too much about the work. The freedom of thought of the maker, the viewer, and the reader, are invaluable to her.

The past year was all about experimentation. Researching, reading, writing, organizing and documenting in an attempt to break free from what we think we know, based on what is presented to us. She made reports in the form of printed quires: loosely folded printed sheets, which, when bundled together make a 32-page book. At the end of this research year, the first quires will be assembled into Off Course 1: a book that plays with words and images. A compilation of seemingly separate fragments challenges the reader to look critically and navigate their own path through the mountain of information we are presented with each day.

The conventions of print are abandoned or used in an alienating way. For example, the book begins not with a preface, but with an associative register, followed by a multifaceted compilation: fragments of statements, passages from books, graphic novels, collages, comics and more. Whoever wants to interpret it faces a challenging task. However, that was exactly the intention; everyone can give their own interpretation and determine their own position. 'I don't like to explain my work too much', says Tsw. 'People can do that themselves. If it were up to me, this text would only say: I made a book.'


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Don Kwaning

Don Kwaning

While out on his walks, designer Don Kwaning is always on the lookout for beautiful plants with special colors and new exciting materials. By 'picking and fidgeting' on a piece of pitrus (a common grass-like plant), he discovered that the inside of the stem is a fascinating foamy pith. For his graduation project, he processed this pitrus into twelve different materials: from textile-like fibers that you can use to create yarns, to paper and cardboard, to foam blocks and a lightweight sheet material.

A goal for this year is to see if he can further develop any of those materials commercially. This is generally a lengthy and at times frustrating process which can take anywhere from five to ten years. One of the challenges is that the pith cannot yet be removed from the stem mechanically, only by hand. Also, when scaling up, the pitrus that he is able to buy from the Forestry Commission, which is trying to control the lushly growing plant, is not enough. Cultivation will then be required, a whole different story.

In addition to this search, this year Kwaning is also exploring how he wants to shape his practice in the future. What makes him happy is showing the potential of plant-based materials, as an artisan in materials development. But what would be the best way to do this? By developing a discovery into a semi-finished product, which others can then use? Or by turning it into a ready-made interior design? Or more autonomously and conceptually to show the power of a material in a more abstract form? And how does one put their personal stamp on such an experiment?

These are questions Kwaning tries to answer through trial and error, conversations with others and, above all, a lot of thought. 'I think that this grant has ensured that my mind is now fully committed to this struggle. I don't mean that in a negative sense because it is actually positive. The fact that I have been given this space, is incredibly valuable to me.'


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Fana Richters

Fana Richters

'My brand is a planet and there I can do anything I want,' says visual artist AiRich (pronounced as I-Rich, aka Fana Richters). The remark is typical of the freedom she likes to create for herself in her work. AiRich comes from an artistic family and is very much an all-rounder, which is why she prefers to be in control of everything, ranging from body paint, styling, photography, performance and video. On the basis of this versatility, she structurally addresses a single theme: recapturing and defining black identity and its future. This identity has been overlooked for a long time, partly because of the African diaspora, and it was and is stereotypically determined or conversely erased by historical and contemporary colonizers of the African continent. The work of AiRich therefore falls under the heading of Afrofuturism. She draws inspiration from West African, Caribbean and Surinamese traditions and extrapolates elements from these into images, including photographic images, of the future. 'For me, it is a matter of decolonizing imagery and, in so doing, also healing shame and self-hatred in the black community. My images feed the imagination: showing people a different image of themselves gives power.' Because if you are a black boy in Amsterdam Zuidoost, can you envision a different identity for yourself than 'the cool hip-hopper?' The answer is yes, but it would help if 'the black boy' were portrayed more often in another way.

Anyone who finds image creation important, naturally finds it extra important that her work reaches as many people as possible. 'People often think that they can't have an affinity with art, because it's always a bit elitist. I want to reduce the distance between the viewer and the work.' This is why AiRich has been working on her Walking Exhibition for the past year. By printing collages of existing work on clothing and accessories, she wants to make her work accessible to a wide audience. Whoever wears the clothes is at once both an art collector and part of an exhibition. 'My work is no longer just a rectangle on a gallery wall'. The question of the distribution and presentation of her work will continue to occupy AiRich for some time to come: 'Every different form of presentation provokes a different emotion or reaction in the viewer, and that continues to fascinate me.'


Text: Merel Kamp
Frances Rompas

Frances Rompas

Frances Rompas studied biology at the University of Utrecht and obtained her Master's in Environmental Sciences at the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. Her practice combines her academic background as a biologist with moving images and installations, and looks for ways to poetically and visually translate nature's power, balance and dynamics. Her presentations aim to connect the audience through watching, reflecting and experiencing together. These values are also strongly reflected in her activities as a DJ and event organiser in Utrecht.

Rompas's practice includes video portraits that document personal stories told not through words but the intervening moments of intimate glances and silences. She employs a broad visual language, meticulously focusing on composition and the subject's movement therein. Rompas has recently been making a very personal and autobiographical project about her origins. 'I carry out historical research into the landscape where my ancestors lived in Minahasa, also known as Manado, in the Indonesian province of North Sulawesi. I zoom in on the inland villages at the foot of the Soputan volcano. The focus is on Manado's landscape.' Her approach is distinctive compared to other Indonesian diaspora stories that usually emphasize historical elements such as colonial rule and war. 'I approach the project from historical accounts and descriptions of the environment. Feeling and emotion are central to this. I want to have a thorough understanding of my ancestors' landscape.'

Rompas recently presented the first outcome of her autobiographical project in the form of a public sculpture comprising eight-metre-long bamboo sticks anchored in the ground and various audio fragments. Long silk flags, hand-dyed in red, purple and emerald green, dance in the wind on the bamboo. 'Flags are usually a symbol of a country and the mark of a specific place. However, my flags represent a sense of displacement and longing to be somewhere else.' Rompas wants to travel to Indonesia to complete her project with a film tracing the history of her father and ancestors, in order to discover her own story.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Fransje Gimbrère

Fransje Gimbrère

The human body has always fascinated designer-artist Fransje Gimbrère. How it works, how it behaves and how it relates to its surroundings. She is especially intrigued by the unconscious processes; the things our senses almost imperceptibly register but however still influence our behaviour. 'I think that's a huge part of design. If you want to get something done with your design and bring about a certain experience, you have to know why you give something a certain colour, shape or materiality.'

Gimbrère has used the Talent Development year to delve deeper into these mechanisms. She studied scientific articles on environmental psychology, neuropsychology, the more controversial neuroaesthetics (biological explanations for how we experience beauty), and also biophilic design (design that seeks connection with nature).

In addition, Gimbrère wants to broaden her range of skills, materials and techniques. 'I always start by asking how a technique works. I'm fascinated by a certain look. The material isn't the priority, but I often use materials in an unusual way.' For example, she uses soft textiles for rigid structures or hard metal for drapery. Her designs are often abstract; the application can be completed by others. She also demonstrates alternative ways of how a material can be used. 'Since what I do is so conceptual, for many people it remains difficult to imagine what purpose my designs serve. I feel as if I'm on the boundary of art and design.'

Whereas she used to make her work by hand, she is now forging links with the industry and collaborates with producers in weaving, knitting and braiding. She wants to get a deeper understanding of these industrial processes so that she can better serve her clients. She also wants to think about the possibilities of these techniques and how she can apply them in a different way. The ultimate goal of this year of in-depth development for her is to translate all the acquired knowledge into a design where the scientific background coalesces with an artistic approach.


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Funs Janssen

Funs Janssen

To whom does the city belong? This question returns in different guises in the work of Funs Janssen, alias Funzig, the 2021 Rotterdam City Illustrator. His recent work takes on gentrification and continues from his graduation work regarding public urban space. Originally from Limburg, Funzig has lived in the south of Rotterdam for the past ten years, where the recently announced demolition of 524 affordable rental homes has reignited the debate about gentrification's social consequences. 'It's not just in Rotterdam South,' Funzig points out, 'the same thing happens in the city's northerly neighbourhoods, such as Overschie, Krooswijk and Spangen, and also in cities like Amsterdam, London and New York.' Original residents, aided by municipal and government policy, are being pushed out by investors and wealthier new residents.

Funzig decided to archive blocks and neighbourhoods earmarked for demolition or redevelopment, which he does in his own unique way. First he photographs the street and then converts the photographs into a 3D model from which he creates illustrations – his artistic interpretation. Funzigs cityscapes are always nocturnal. 'This allows the lamp posts and car headlights to illuminate things in the city you might possibly miss, making them easier to see.' The images will eventually be collected in a publication alongside recounted experiences of ex-residents and essays by commentators and researchers. Funzig works closely with researcher Hasret Emine who is active in the Amsterdam branch of the political party Bij1. 'I want to give people at least a reminder of the place they had to leave,' Funzig says. At the same time, the publication is also for new residents and policymakers, allowing them to see the effect of gentrification on a city and its residents. 'I'd love to expand this project and see what I can do in other cities where this is happening. I can also imagine that virtual reality will be a way of viewing the 3D models I've made.' To a certain extent, this would allow the city and its history to become available again to people denied access to the city.


Text: Manique Hendricks
ILLM

ILLM

Calligrapher Qasim Arif (ILLM) was selected during the Scout Night Rotterdam. In the last 10 years, Arif has mastered the craft of Arabic calligraphy. His visual style is strongly influenced by elements from Hip hop and Pop culture. Central to the work are various aspects of identity with, in particular, his background as a 'third-culture kid'. During the development year, Arif wants to discover new ways of designing through 3D. He argues that a large part of Islamic art only relates to the two-dimensional surface, because the sculpting of living beings is exclusively the domain of a god. Within these frameworks, Arif wants to push the boundaries and convert Arabic calligraphy into 3D sculptures. One of the ways he does this is based on the Nike Air Max 1. According to Arif, the cult shoe is not only a symbol of social status, but it also represents the dreams, wishes and memories of children with a migrant background. For his professional and artistic development, Arif is participating in a number of courses, including 3D modelling, 3D printing and 'Sculpturing, Moulding, Casting & Finishing'. The founder of the 3D printer, Cyrus Sasan Seyedi, is guiding Arif in 3D printing techniques and monitoring the quality of the print. In addition, the applicant will approach artist Joseph Klibansky for advice on the production of sculptures, but also on marketing through social media. Finally, Arif is applying for a traineeship with El Seed, a French-Tunisian calligrapher. The results of the project will be presented both online and offline.


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Inez Naomi

Inez Naomi

Eleven bad-ass women on a bright pink soccer field. Cool, self-confident and proud of their bodies, dressed only in a fashionable bikini made of second-hand soccer shirts. These are the first campaign photos with which Inez Naomi Correa Alves launched her brand Versatile Forever. A year ago, in addition to her design and styling work for established retail and fashion brands, she decided to start her own fashion label from a completely different perspective: Versatile Forever stays well away from fast fashion.

'I became annoyed with practices in the fashion industry', says Correa Alves, who opts for a more social approach. 'I was also keen to combine my strengths as a stylist and designer, to see how I could grow in that role myself.' By transforming second-hand clothes into new collections, she is now raising a counterpoint. In doing so, she took a different approach: instead of working from a pre-developed design, she started at the other end; with the production process. By allowing this to be the guiding principle, creative surprises emerge. For the first release, she thought of tops, which turned into dresses on the mannequin, but ultimately the leftover pieces became the ingredients for the summer premiere. She describes the unconventional making process as 'learning by doing', in which she especially learned how important it is to just start: 'A matter of acting and trusting your own feelings.'

The starting point was a sorting company for second-hand clothing. Correa Alves left there with bags full of old soccer shirts and scarves which she used to make a series with the theme 'team spirit'. In this concept, the benchwarmers – the players who always sit on the bench or are chosen last – are the real winners. The first campaign, Not Your Soccer Wife, presents a diverse team of super babes. The price is kept deliberately accessible to a wide audience, but it is far from a standard collection: 'For retail, every jersey has to be exactly the same, but at Versatile every garment is unique, a celebration of diversity. They are one-of-a-kind pieces, but they are still a part of a series.'

The biggest challenge now is scaling up: 'We made these bikinis ourselves and it's still quite difficult as a small start-up brand to get a collection into production.' She is now engaging with several social institutions with sewing workshops. The football bikinis can still be ordered this summer through the Versatile Forever website. And the drop for when autumn approaches is ready to go; dresses made from the same scarves and shirts.


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Irakli Sabekia

Irakli Sabekia

Artist Irakli Sabekia was born in a Georgian city that now lies in occupied territory. At a young age, he moved to Tbilisi and went on to study medicine. After the 2008 war in South Ossetia, he focused on graphic design, communication and art direction. In 2015, he started studying Man and Leisure (now Studio Urgencies) at the Design Academy in Eindhoven. He graduated with distinction in 2019 with a project regarding the Russian occupation of Georgia. 'My practice invites the viewer to reflect and encourages discussion of the issues my work addresses. Its central theme is the friction between man and system.' Having witnessed the consequences of the occupation of Georgia in the early 1990s, he translates his experiences into methods for tackling subjects. 'The stories of small and large communities subjected to different power systems need to be told. I do this through multimedia installations and interventions. I create artistic interruptions in the functionality of existing systems. In doing so, I use my scientific background to question the instruments of the established power. At its core is the connecting of people through ideas.'

With his interactive installation Voicing Borders Sabekia exposes the reality hidden behind the barbed-wire border of Russian-occupied Georgia. Sabekia uses old and new satellite images and a short message in Morse code to map the destruction of 16 villages. An earlier project, the playful public intervention Ministry of Reasonable Chaos, comments on the Dutch governance system and the abundance of social control which leaves little room for spontaneity. Together, people can use brightly coloured bricks to build new structures which disrupt the monotonous and sometimes sterile public space.

Sabekia is currently developing The Archive of Spatial Knowledge. 'It is an experimental, open-source digital platform, a spatial intervention formed by a collection of censored narratives that are prohibited from being displayed in public space. They're comparable to the stories from the occupied territories of Georgia that are present in the memories of the locals but have been erased from the area.' In the future, Sabekia wants to further develop his artistic practice at the intersection of science and visual arts.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Jean-Francois Gauthier

Jean-Francois Gauthier

'Trees first' is Jean-François Gauthier's motto when it comes to urban planning. It was also the title of his graduation thesis at the Amsterdam Academy of Architecture, which was awarded the KuiperCompagnons Afstudeerprijs. Instead of trees being the final element in the design of public space, he argues that they should be the starting point. Not just individual trees however, but more in terms of forests. He drew inspiration from the research of forest ecologist Suzanne Simard, who discovered that trees form a community. 'We used to think they were competing with each other, but it turns out they actually work together', says Gauthier. 'Their roots seek contact with each other, one takes care of the other. There is a whole system of mature mother trees that look after the younger growth.' Good news for the life expectancy of urban trees: while single specimens often live only 20 years, that number can increase tenfold if you place them closer together.

'There's a lot of talk about planting more trees in the city, but the crazy thing is that no one really knows how best to do it', says Gauthier. With a grant from Creative Industries Fund NL, he succeeded in giving his graduation research a follow-up with a pilot project on the Slachthuisplein in The Hague. Residents had submitted a request to the municipality for more trees on the square and they needed a specialist to assist them. 'But there aren't really any', says Gauthier: 'You have landscape architects and arborists, but they're not used to communicating with each other.' He saw the project as an opportunity to become a specialist himself; in early 2021, his first layered urban forest began to grow, with birch and rowan trees as the front line, oaks and maples as their slow-growing successors, followed by a protective, nourishing bed of shrubs and herbs.

The lessons learned – such as the importance of this three-layer approach and a method to sustainably enrich the soil – he keeps track of in his journal. He also emphasizes the need for research into 'natural' conditions: 'These vary from location to location. Sometimes the soil, wind and sun are similar to a mountain landscape, sometimes to a canyon, and in the case of the Slachthuisplein to a dune landscape. The chance of success increases significantly if you choose vegetation that thrives in the dunes.' The various scenarios are visualized in artistic collages; these could give municipalities just that little push to join forces with Sylva, Gauthier's company founded this year, towards a city full of green giants.


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
JeanPaul Paula

JeanPaul Paula

In general, there's a fairly strict line between art and fashion. However, for JeanPaul Paula, there's no distinction between the various things he does. Whether he's a photographer, stylist, or art director, it all stems from the same creative impulse – and constantly results in different forms of expression. He's been developing his practice for nearly 20 years, and has worked with some of the world's biggest brands and artists, but his opportunities in the Netherlands have always been quite limited. 'In the past year, I've explicitly decided to take responsibility for my artistry and focused on sustainability. As part of this process, I'm working more with my family,' he says. Following a drastic and dramatic split with them in his late teens – because he is gay – they have recently reconnected. Repairing the relationship is an emotional and in-depth process that requires getting to know each other again. It includes having conversations about their culture and the personal convictions that led to the split and eventual reconciliation.

These conversations form the basis for new types of expression and are related to the experiences and problematic treatment of LGBTQIA+ people in the Curaçaoan and wider Caribbean community. He explains: 'Here, LGBTQIA+ people of colour are continuously murdered by people from their own communities. Many of them – myself included – were kicked out of the house and have no social safety net.' According to Paula, these consequences come from learned behaviour that is passed on and normalised. 'I mainly focus on the Caribbean context, where the aftermath of colonialism, religion and masculinity creates a toxic cocktail of factors that contribute to these deadly excesses.' Along those same lines, Paula questions what it means to be a gay and/or black person in this world, and how it's possible to survive here.

In addition to photographs, his current research has led to a movie that deals with Paula's personal story and his relationship with his family. It is embedded in an environment that addresses broader cultural considerations. He wants to generate awareness for psychology and mental health within the black community. At the same time, there are other factors at play – for example, people of colour have been made largely invisible within the queer community, and commercial interests can overshadow long-term contributions and representation that have the ability to set an example for future generations. That's why he wants to maximise the visibility of this project and reach the widest possible audience.


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Johanna Seelemann

Johanna Seelemann

'Disaster Studios' may sound like a design agency you'd rather avoid. However, in these times of climate emergency, accompanying extreme weather events and a global pandemic, perhaps we should move closer to the disaster and investigate how we can deal with it. This is exactly what Johanna Seelemann has been doing recently, together with the Icelandic risk management expert Uta Reichardt with the Disaster Studios project. It is wrong to assume designing for – and after – the disaster invites extreme functionality and rationality. 'Aesthetics in particular and the irrational offer significant inputs,' says Seelemann. 'Rationality offers no comfort during or after the disaster. And the effectiveness of infographics – frequently used during the corona pandemic – partly depends on their aesthetic quality.' The outcomes of Reichardts and Seelemanns interdisciplinary project are an online compass that runs on its own solar-powered server and a publication outlining what value art and design has in the context of a crisis.

Seelemann has long been fascinated by adaptability, resilience and change, particularly concerning aesthetics. In her previous work, Terra Incognita, she used industrial clay to examine how irrationality and outmodedness affect consumer behaviour. Like the fashion world, the car industry employs deliberate obsolescence to encourage consumption, a process that takes shape first and foremost in clay. 'It is fascinating that a now hyper-technological product, the car, still starts as a clay sculpture!' Seelemann explains. Terra Incognita resulted in a series of stable but endlessly adaptable objects made from industrial clay. As the same material is always reused, this playground of aesthetics is suddenly compatible with sustainability.

Seelemann wants to explore further sustainability and changeability within the project Perpetual Change (working title), which investigates local material streams and production techniques. 'I want to focus once again on the material as a narrator. Hopefully, this will lead to some thought-provoking collaborations!'


Text: Merel Kamp
Josse Pyl

Josse Pyl

'How we communicate, make agreements, record things and make the absent present using language fascinates me,' says Josse Pyl. By language, Pyl means visual, not necessarily spoken language. Depending on your philosophical position on language, one could say that language always translates: the relationship between language and reality is not one-to-one. Language is not reality, nor is it a literal copy of it. However, a copy is a translation of a piece of reality. And it is precisely this translation that preoccupies Pyl.

His most recent project includes a translation and reinterpretation of his own work. Pyl made frottages of details and installation images of that work. 'When making a frottage, you create a sort of copy of an original with a relief, you put a sheet of paper over a coin, for example, and then you go over it with a piece of chalk.' Pyl has collected these frottages, alongside new work, in a publication scheduled to be released in September by Roma Publications. 'It is not a catalogue of my work', says Pyl, 'but really a work in itself, an object with nothing but images. I have never spent so much time on one thing before.'

Pyl always wanted to make a book as that is an excellent medium for visual language. But in addition to the book, there are now also video works. In the stop-motion video Inner World Outer World, as a viewer, you are locked in a mouth. You see a set of teeth from the back in which engravings – reverse relief – slowly emerge. Some details from earlier work and swirling text on molars and incisors. 'A word begins in the stomach. This then breathes it through to the chest and neck, which forms its timbre. Through the vocal cords, where the pitch is determined, it goes into the mouth, where the tongue and teeth provide the final structure, before the word is pushed into the air,' according to Pyl. Video is a new medium in his work, which he views as an enhancement to his practice. 'I can envision this in the future, more frottages and more video which will then hopefully translate back into the next.'


Text: Merel Kamp
Khalid Amakran

Khalid Amakran

Photographer Khalid Amakran researches the Moroccan-Dutch identity. Millennials are central to his work, he does, however include other generations. 'Dutch society often portrays people with a Moroccan background negatively. Their stories are usually told in a reactive context: after an incident, we are called to account, and we have to defend who “we” are before a talk show audience, so to speak. There seems to be no room for the small, nuanced and everyday narratives.' This negative positioning and perception have gained momentum since the turn of the century. News about Moroccan youths and stigmatising statements by politicians have played a role in this. Amakran wants to take this image and, as a spoken word artist, use language to set a different example. 'I want to find a way to address what this politicisation does to people.'

After several years of commissioned work, including a weekly column in NRC Handelsblad, he now seeks a more autonomous position. Previously, he mainly focused on people and their environment. Now he wants to consider these elements separately, thus examining an individual's situation while simultaneously paying attention to the influence of one's surroundings. The environment and context in which someone grows up profoundly influences their personal development. 'I am dealing with interpreting sociological systems and giving space to emotional motives.' In this process Amakran does not see photography itself as an end, but as a means to capture the world, analyse it and tell a story. 'I'm not interested in just pretty pictures. The messages and stories you convey should reach the world as effectively as possible.'

He focuses on three generations. Firstly, he concentrates on the parents who mainly came to the Netherlands as 'migrant workers'. There has been little opportunity for them to share their experiences publicly. Amakran also looks at their children, who had to choose between their Moroccan and Dutch cultures. This choice, in which the two are mutually exclusive, plays a vital role in shaping the identity of Moroccan-Dutch millennials. 'It is often said they cannot be completely free and have to hide a part of themselves wherever they are, so they always walk around with a secret.' Amakran wants to shed light on this hidden facet. 'I want to show that there is a shared experience, that there is a group with similar experiences that are therefore also legitimate. In this way I show the third generation that they have a future.'


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Lesia Topolnyk

Lesia Topolnyk

Lesia Topolnyk is an architect who focuses on a broader interpretation of her field. She is interested in the potential of her profession within our constructed reality – not necessarily in building things. 'It's about ideas that take shape during the research and design process which generate new typologies,' she says. For her, it's not enough to shape the world reactively, or in line with what already exists. She explains: 'Although architects are seen as people who design spaces, we also design relationships. Especially in these turbulent political times, it's necessary to look at how the world is designed to understand the larger context in which a project is taking place. I sometimes reflect on major problems at a global level, while other times I focus on the space inside someone's mind.'

Topolnyk grew up in Ukraine, and addressed the situation in Crimea with her final project at the Academy of Architecture in Amsterdam. She created a proposal for a building that consisted primarily of corridors – places where discussions and interactions occur that ultimately have the greatest influence on the decisions being made. Continuous mediation of the situation was central to this concept. The architecture symbolised and supported the mental capacity of those involved. In this endless network of hallways, which reference the agora, visitors could have endless discussions which allowed for a continuous debate; politics is an ongoing conversation. Similarly, her own vision of architecture and her process of research and design focuses on conversation, contributions from different positions, and the involvement of people with a wide range of expertise. She therefore frequently collaborates with people who work in different fields. Because 'you can learn from others and they bring valuable insights and viewpoints...'

Her current research is focused on the various crises humanity is currently facing, with a special interest in political systems and the significance of democracy, including its Greek foundations. She is exploring how this form of government was historically designed and how architecture supported and portrayed it. 'It's about how we can shape change and how we can manage the world better together,' she concludes. Architecture can play a role in that by offering design solutions that support the decision-making process.


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Louis Braddock Clarke

Louis Braddock Clarke

Listening is at the heart of designer/researcher Louis Braddock Clarke's work: listening to others and the landscape. He builds instruments that read, index and feel the landscape. Changes in the landscape, such as shifting magnetic values, are converted into sound, making these processes perceptible to humans. 'Much of my work focuses on narratives that lie between art and science, which are usually invisible and quite complex. I try to find creative ways to reveal them, using new technologies.'

Braddock Clarke always returns to the same material: iron ore, the metal that creates magnetic changes in the space around us. For his latest project, he is investigating a location in Greenland where a meteorite landed ten thousand years ago. In addition to a significant magnetic change, it was an event that set in motion many stories among the local population and later colonial rulers (Greenland only regained self-governance in 2008.) Due to the melting of the ice and the land's mineral wealth, enormous geopolitical interests are at play around these coordinates, which, in turn, generate new narratives.

Braddock Clarke has collected small parts of the meteorite sold and distributed around the world through internet auctions. He intends to return these fragments to their exact landing spot. By heating the pieces to a high temperature in situ, the magnetic values, which solidified at the moment the meteor struck, are reset, and they take on the new proportions of that moment and place. All history contained in the stone, especially the colonial, is erased, as it were. The material gets a fresh start from the 'earthly' spot it originates from (though, of course, it originally comes from space) and remains there.

The meteorite's return is in stark contrast to everything else that was taken from this place. This resonates with the locals Braddock Clarke works with, in addition to scientists, engineers, and natural history museums, among others. Since his practice focuses on collaboration, he is uncomfortable that only his name is associated with the Talent Development grant he received. As he explains, 'I'm obsessed with collaboration. For me, the future is about operating within these intensively collaborative dialogue spaces.'


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Luuc Sonke

Luuc Sonke

'I am searching for an answer to what I consider the spatial issue of the 21st century,' says architect Luuc Sonke. And that is: how can we design spaces that challenge users to use them in a more flexible way, analogous to contemporary life? Life has become more and more 'fluid' as a result of ongoing digitalization. Boundaries between the public and private, between work and leisure, are blurring. Zoom brings the outside world into the home, the kitchen table becomes a desk. And at the same time, people sit with laptops in a café where they used to go to meet their friends and intimate conversations are held without embarrassment on buses and trains.

While the world is increasingly escaping from the fixed structures of work, church and relationships, the physical context however is lagging behind. Society is much more flexible than the architecture with which we surround ourselves. Sonke investigates this discrepancy and seeks to close the gap. 'Buildings are still designed with predetermined functions. Okay, we have open kitchens nowadays, but architects still draw bedrooms and a living room in a floor plan. Do we still need those definitions?'

His research is an extension of his graduation project at the Academy of Architecture Amsterdam. It is called Liquid Life, after a book by sociologist Zygmunt Baumann concerning how life constantly changes. Sonke visited fifteen households to map out how users deal with their private space. He interviewed residents, drew floor plans, noted his observations, using this as a basis to create new models. These models play with a 'free format'; you don't know exactly where one space ends and another begins, their function is not yet determined. Instead of walls with doors, pony walls and height differences in the ceiling and floor, challenge users to embrace a more flexible approach.

Over the past year, Sonke has added more and more layers to his research. For example, he now makes 3D scans of indoor and outdoor locations to experiment with. Pieces of our living space that he separates from their context by removing them in the virtual world. A kind of diorama that he makes intuitively which gradually acquires a place in the research. 'I use a 3D scanner to design a carpet with the textures and colors of a public place, yet another way of bringing the public domain into the private sphere.' Notable finds during the process are documented on Sonke's website. Here you won't find a portfolio as you might expect on an architect's site, but a record of a voyage of discovery through liquid space.


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Marlou Breuls

Marlou Breuls

Objectification of the body, the most recent work by Marlou Breuls, is an ongoing investigation into the boundaries and possibilities of fashion and her own view on the fashion designer/autonomous artist axis. 'I don't feel the need to make clothes,' says Breuls. 'I want to stretch things, search for boundaries. In contemporary fashion, every element of surprise has disappeared. With my work, I want to bring that back.'

Breuls would rather approach fashion as 'a culture of fabric' than as (the making of) something wearable, hence she started experimenting with extensions of the human body made from a variety of materials. There are also garments dipped in porcelain, a cuddly chair made of furry silicone and a tufted carpet with the 3D silhouette of a woman fused into it. The works can be read as thought experiments: up to what point is something still wearable? When is something still fashion? What actually constitutes fashion? But also: what am I: a fashion designer or an autonomous artist?

To answer these questions and to gain experience in working with different materials and techniques, Breuls realised a number of collaborations with, among others, David Altmeyd, Katie Stout, Branko Popovic & Ronald Schinkelshoek. Some of these have not (yet) taken place (physically) due to covid-19, causing the project to be somewhat delayed.
'I would have liked to have made more progress in formulating an answer.' At the same time, Breuls admits that the questions she poses with her work may never be conclusively answered. 'It is important to me to keep rediscovering myself. That's why I also like to enter unusual collaborations, both with theaters and large companies.' Constantly reinventing yourself is not always easy: 'As soon as I step outside of fashion, it becomes exciting. What am I doing? Why am I not sticking to what I am capable of? But I also know that I need this tension to be able to take the next step. I don't want to be on autopilot.'


Text: Merel Kamp
Mirjam Debets

Mirjam Debets

As an animator, VJ and illustrator, Mirjam Debets works at the intersection of moving image, 2D and live performance. She studied animation at the Utrecht School of the Arts (HKU), and was the only student of the 2017 graduating class to complete the degree with live visuals, shown at a concert at De Helling in Utrecht. 'Since then, I've been looking for new, multidisciplinary ways to translate illustrations and animations into physical experiences for an audience. My ideas originate from music or collaborations with musicians, designers and different clients, and result in visuals that are much more free and abstract than what you can achieve with the narrative of an animated film for example.'

'My work is inspired by the convergence of and relationship between people and nature.' From mythical legends, philosophical stories and biological phenomena, fantastical figures and organic shapes come to life in eclectic patterns. Her illustrated world is bursting with unique creatures and meandering plants in bright colours. With a playful approach, Debets shines a poetic light on the history of the world and the way in which humans have been connected to their natural surroundings for centuries. 'The projects I've completed since graduating are extremely varied: from video clips and textile design to animated films, gifs, and a monumental on-site video installation.' Her commissions include an animated trailer to promote the book of the month for television show De Wereld Draait Door, animations for a VPRO documentary about the Earth, an opening film for Klik Amsterdam Animation Festival, and the introductory film and educational material for Bes, Small god in ancient Egypt – an exhibition at the Allard Pierson Museum in Amsterdam.

'In the future, I want to explore new paths within my practice by researching different forms of presentation and their impact on the audience. My primary focus will be immersive experiences and viewer interaction.' For that reason, her upcoming projects will be produced entirely by Debets in collaboration with professionals from other disciplines – from the initial concept to the final product.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Moriz Oberberger

Moriz Oberberger

Graphic designer and illustrator Moriz Oberberger describes the past year as 'artistically fruitful'. As he likes to work by imposing 'poetic challenges' on himself, he took the time to focus, discover a new working rhythm, and take on a new challenge. 'I try to come up with small, absurd systems for my working method that are labour-intensive, but are humorous and playful at the same time.'

His latest project sits somewhere between a meditative diary and a long animation process. Every day he works on an animation, frame by frame, making at least fifty drawings at a time, the next day picking up where he left off. There is no storyboard; the story develops spontaneously and intuitively, as if you were going for a walk without destination nor goal. As the 20th-century painter Paul Klee put it: 'To draw is to take a line for a walk.' This approach takes drawing itself as its starting point. Sometimes Oberberger follows a line that interests him but there are also defined figures from which small scenes develop; one flows into the other in a potentially infinite manner.

He collates the drawings for the animations (frames) into workbooks, each of which covers two months and is meticulously dated and time stamped. He also consecutively numbers the now thousands of frames.These workbooks make it possible to follow the drawing series in different rhythms. The reader determines the tempo and how the images connect. Oberberger makes these workbooks in small editions and draws on the blank covers, both challenging and questioning the idea of a finished book. He also began writing stories based on the figures and lines that develop in the animations and making stand-alone drawings in coloured pencil. He will exhibit the outcomes, translating various project elements into a multimedia installation featuring sound, drawings and animations.

The Talent Development year also afforded Oberberger time to think about developing, communicating, and distributing his practice more broadly. He is working on a new website and a publication platform. Simply spending more time interacting on social media leads to new contacts and assignments. 'This funding allowed me to be more convincing in what I do and create smoother transitions between assignments and self-initiated projects.'


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Philipp Kolmann

Philipp Kolmann

Philipp Kolmann is a designer, chef and farmer with a fascination for fermentation. He describes bacteria and fungi as an invisible link between humans, other species, and the land we inhabit. He also sees opportunities to harness them – through food – for a healthier balance on earth. Kolmann is currently working on finding plant-based alternatives to animal products, such as plant-based cheese. This requires more than just finding the right combination of bacteria in a lab, he explains: 'That has everything to do with the connection between product, man and land.' His research into how the dairy industry is woven into the capillaries of our culture is the first step towards an environmentally friendly alternative.

Although cheese currently has an artisanal, honest image, most of the cheese we consume has long since become disconnected from the natural relationship between man and land, according to Kolmann. He therefore wants to stay far away from industrially produced cheese and recently immersed himself in the traditional manual production of raw-milk cheeses. To make cheese at the source, to learn about the process of fermentation and to study the microbes responsible for it, Kolmann left for Switzerland. He not only looked at the microbes in cheese, but he also investigated various fermentation techniques that are used worldwide for products such as yogurt, kefir, miso, soy and butter. He investigated how taste and smell come into existence, how they are determined by local conditions and thus reinforce the identity of a place. Kolmann: 'With this project I want to restore the symbiotic relationship between man and his immediate environment.'

The next step is to remove dairy products altogether. Vegan cheese is already being made, but it often uses ingredients from Asia, such as coconut milk and cashew nuts from Indonesia. Kolmann wants to discover what locally sourced plant-based ingredients can be used to produce cheese that doesn't involve cow's milk. In September, he will start analyzing local microbiomes in the microbiology lab of the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam, and then create a starter culture from them. He will work with different types of grass, beans and lentils, seeds and nuts. 'I'm trying to convert hundreds of years of dairy culture into something else, to which the same value can be attached. The challenge is to create a plant-based substitute that becomes just as entrenched in our culture.'


Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Renee Mes

Renee Mes

Renee Mes is a multidisciplinary designer who studied at the Design Academy Eindhoven, where she focused on a critical analysis of the way in which our living environment is designed. 'Our designed living environment sets conditions, directs movement and offers possibilities for use which are established based on how an object is presented. The considerations that ultimately determine the potential of an object and what it represents in terms of use are rooted in design questions. They relate to our society and what it requires, but also what it rejects,' she explains.

Mes points out that most design is focused on able-bodied heteronormativity. Because of this, part of the population, and their way of being, moving and living is not adequately supported. With her designs, Mes makes us aware of the prevailing status quo, while at the same time going against the norm and normalisation of this approach. She does this in a playful way, often supported by colourful designs. This makes her work inviting, allowing people to become acquainted with the issues she is raising.

'By playing with a familiar visual language and using it in new ways, new stories and possibilities are created'. Mes also questions the significance of objects with her project 'Chosen Family'. It doesn't revolve around a nuclear family made up of a father, mother, son and daughter, but rather families composed of people who are not related by blood. 'They choose to live together and might have different types of connections and relationships, and live logically in a way that deviates from the heteronormative.' For this project, Mes worked with queer trans people of colour (QTPOC) and people with a bicultural background. It centers on the question of how they can shape their own story. Because of covid-19, Mes decided that instead of a variety of chosen families, she would focus on her own. In five videos, using objects that represent them, the subjects are asked what their surroundings could look like and are invited to actually design a space where they can tell their story to viewers, on their own terms. By breaking down stereotypes and focusing on visibility and social acceptance, Mes is committed to making our living environment more accessible, particularly for racialised and queer bodies, free from heteronormative expectations.


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Seok-hyeon Yoon

Seok-hyeon Yoon

Sustainability is paramount in the work of Seok-hyeon Yoon. Mankind must take care of his environment, but unfortunately, many industrial production processes and products do not follow this credo. Even if a product is natural by origin, it is often not circular, due to later processing in the production process. Ceramics are manufactured from a natural material (clay) and are therefore in principle reusable – fired clay can be incorporated into new clay as a chamotte. Ceramics however are glazed: 'Because the two components, glaze and clay, fuse together in the kiln, it is impossible to separate them anymore and reuse the materials,' says Yoon. He went in search of an alternative to glaze and found it in his own cultural heritage. Traditionally, in countries such as Korea, Japan and China, people use a resin from the lacquer tree to finish materials ranging from wood and metal to even paper. The resinous lacquer does not need to be fired at a high temperature, it adheres extremely well to a variety of surfaces and is heat and water resistant. In his materials research, Yoon discovered that this lacquer evaporates at very high temperatures. Only the earthenware surface then remains and is therefore recyclable. However, it is not yet a real alternative to glaze because of the labor-intensive process of harvesting and processing the resin and the high cost of this finishing technique. 'I do find that frustrating sometimes,' says Yoon. 'As a designer, I try to show possibilities, but more often than not the business model becomes a challenge.' At the same time, Yoon is aware that perhaps it is of great value to show the possibilities of thinking about materials and their use in a different, less conventional way.

'Exploring the potential of materials,' says Yoon, 'that's what's most important to me.' He is now also working on other alternatives to glazing – based on food waste, for example. Moreover, by having intensively studied ceramic production, Yoon now knows that porcelain actually does not need a glaze at all: 'It is watertight by itself'. Such an insight opens up new avenues of thought. Yoon's extensive research into ceramics and alternative finishing techniques will eventually be presented in a solo exhibition at Keramiekmuseum Prinsessenhof.

Text: Merel Kamp
Sherida Kuffour

Sherida Kuffour

'(…) Indians and half-breeds. Absolute savages (…) no communication whatsoever with the civilized world. Still preserve their repulsive habits and customs.' This is how the 'Savages' are described in the dystopian classic Brave New World (1932) by the English author Aldous Huxley. For Sherida Kuffour, this work was the inspiration for her project Brave New Lit.

Kuffour moved to the United Kingdom from the Netherlands at a young age and learned the language by reading English literature. In her current practice as a graphic designer and writer, she is concerned with the question of what is the best way to deal with literature? Kuffour approaches this question not only as a reader but also as a designer and writer of text. 'The first time I read Huxley, I didn't like it one bit. I was struck by the stereotypical and colonial description of the Savages and, moreover, I had trouble with his literary style.' On a recent rereading of Brave New World and the accompanying foreword by Canadian author Margaret Atwood (known to most as the author of The Handmaid's Tale),

Kuffour noticed the influence of the paratext – the context of a text in the broadest sense – on the reception of the text. 'When I learned more about the time in which the work was written and the events in the author's personal life, my perception of the text changed', says Kuffour. This inspired her to design a literary playground; an online environment which should enable the most complete reading possible of a text. Text and paratext are present simultaneously and are enriched with images and audio, resulting in a multi-sensory reading experience. The reader is invited to continuously interact with the text, which is no longer a static entity to which one relates individually, but an organic meeting place. With her work, Kuffour raises crucial questions such as: what is reading? To whom is reading accessible? How can reading change from an individual and elitist activity – books are expensive! – into an inclusive, communal and multi-sensory experience?


Text: Merel Kamp
Sophia Bulgakova

Sophia Bulgakova

Sophia Bulgakova studied sculpture in Kyiv, Ukraine, before studying photography and time-based media at the University of the Arts in London, followed by a BA in ArtScience at the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague. In 2019 she graduated with the participatory performance Inevitably Blue, in which the viewer sits masked on a swing in the middle of space and is pushed back and forth by a performer. This approach to challenging the senses of perception and observation allows participants to experience the space based solely on colour and their thoughts. They temporarily feel what it is like to float through an environment that consists only of colour and space.

'Personalised perception and the way in which specific memories define individuals are central to my practice.' Her immersive works combine sensory deprivation and the stimuli of sensory experience. She investigates how you can understand yourself by relating to a particular environment and the corresponding impact of colour. During a residency in the summer of 2020, Bulgakova developed MINDSCAPES, an augmented reality filter for Instagram that depicts memories of places that are no longer accessible, such as the occupied zone in Kyiv. 'For this, I organised workshops with people from the area who shared their memories of different places.'

Bulgakova is currently researching paganism, magical ancient traditions and rituals from different cultures, and their relationship with contemporary technology. 'Being aware of the climate and nature underscores this research that investigates how technology connects to the natural world.' Through a combination of virtual reality, spoken word storytelling and performance, Bulgakova will create an interactive experience which explores the local traditions and rituals of the location where she exhibits the work. She will also work on the German coastline in collaboration with schools and scientists. This art project aims to raise awareness of climate conservation, bird migration and marine life in this area. 'My ambition is to continue this emphasis on collaboration through large-scale projects and productions with hybrid media. I will focus on both anthropological research and perceptive psychology. My origins and motivations keep pushing me to build bridges between Eastern Europe and the Netherlands.'


Text: Manique Hendricks
Stefano Murgia

Stefano Murgia

From a young age, sound artist Stefano Murgia enjoyed attending concerts. Due to his height however, he spent most of his time looking at the backs of the audience. 'That's one of the reasons why I started thinking about how music is presented and perceived,' says Stefano. After studying engineering, Murgia went on to pursue an ArtScience bachelor's at the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in The Hague. He graduated in 2017 with an experimental research project titled Acoustics Based on Volume: Aluminium, a sound installation consisting of a cube, a sphere and a tetrahedron made of aluminium. Together, the objects form a new type of instrument – each with its own sound. With the help of electronics, the three shapes can be transformed into acoustic reverb chambers. After he graduated, the performative installation was exhibited throughout Europe at exhibitions and festivals such as the Amsterdam Dance Event, Prototyp Festival in Brno and Spektrum in Berlin.

Recently, Murgia has reflected on his way of working and, inspired by acoustics (the science of sound) has come up with a method for starting future projects. 'I use the order in which the sound arises from its source via the medium/route to the receiver as my starting point, and I repeatedly ask myself these questions: where and in what kind of space is this sound art located? And how does the audience perceive it?' After graduating, Murgia has continued to investigate acoustics and spatial compositions, using (among other things) homemade instruments and synthesizers.

Murgia is currently researching street canyons and sonic architecture, and the role that sound can play in them. Street canyons, also known as urban canyons, are places in a city where the wind is amplified by tall buildings in the surrounding area. Together with two scientists from TU Delft who specialise in architecture and aerodynamics, he is developing a new sculpture intended for a public space that focuses on the difference between wind and sound. 'The goal of this project is to make an unpleasant location with strong wind more pleasant by installing sound sculptures. Sound and wind are both movements of air; sound vibrates air, whereas wind relocates air.' This concept makes Murgia wonder how he can transform sound and wind into each other without losing energy. 'In the future, I dream of setting up a record label focused on sound art, as well as creating a physical place where people who are interested in sound can come together and experiment – from artists and philosophers to scientists.'


Text: Manique Hendricks
Sydney Rahimtoola

Sydney Rahimtoola

Sydney Rahimtoola is interested in ways in which we can work on (greater) social equality and a complete, continuous visual representation of marginalised groups. She approaches this topic using her background in photography and with the understanding that throughout history, this medium has had a problematic relationship with the politics of representation. She explains: 'As a medium, photography is complicit in constructing the image of 'the other'. There is little room for the personal history of communities of colour. It's precisely these personal histories however, folklore and personal mythologies that inform and provide representation that people of colour can relate to, and gives them a sense of history in which they can determine their own place.'

Using her personal experience, Rahimtoola investigates how structures within society influence her (living) environment and immediate family. She bases her research mainly on informal and unofficial knowledge that isn't available to everyone. It's a situation that's familiar to communities of colour – you have to know the right people to access information. She says: 'That's also an important reason why friends and family play a prominent role in my work. I make my work with and about them. This time, once again, my starting point is a personal narrative: my uncle's struggles with his mental health.'

Currently, she is specifically focusing on the psychedelic renaissance, i.e the use of psychedelics for personal well-being – including microdosing and cleansing rituals. 'The knowledge regarding the use of psychedelics often comes from indigenous or other communities of colour. However, it's now mainly being used for the well-being of white people and enriching the western world – the colonial, imperial and capitalist structures. That includes self-improvement and self-care to make life more pleasant; but the communities where this expertise originates often don't have the opportunity to benefit themselves. In fact, they barely have access to basic healthcare or other services that many people take for granted.' Rahimtoola is now working to find a suitable way to visualise the significance and far-reaching implications the psychedelic renaissance can have on society, its structures and her own family. It will include a film loosely inspired by her uncle's story.


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Thom Bindels

Thom Bindels

'With one foot on the dredging boat and the other in the world of design', that's how research designer Thom Bindels describes his practice. After graduating, he put his energy into a foundation that aims to facilitate locally produced anti-erosion structures made of cardboard for developing countries. An enjoyable, but also rational and practical process. Now it's time for something new in addition to that ongoing project. 'I want to finally start playing again like I did in the academy. Is that possible? Can I earn money in this way? Would I be able to do a similar project that also adds value for myself?'

Bindel still focuses on the same subject: researching the human relationship with its environment. 'What I have actually discovered is that my field of work is always related to farming, to the agricultural sector, nature conservation or area management. Why is that? Maybe a kind of stewardship? It's a kind of sense of responsibility for your environment and how you relate to it.'

This year Bindels' interests led to the development of a location-based podcast. He collects the stories of people who have a connection to a particular landscape: because something is going to happen in the future that they are excited about, or just because of the history of a place or its ecological uniqueness. By letting others listen to their stories on the spot, Bindels aims to make more people feel an affinity with the location as according to him that's where the solution lies.

In addition to the stories, Bindels will mark the starting point of the sound walks with a landscape intervention, which he makes himself using ingredients that are present on-site.
For example, a two-meter-high storage area for dredged-up silt in the shape of a beehive and constructed from reeds. For Bindels, this elevation in the landscape is also a welcome poetic interruption, a drop of variation in the monoculture of the flat polder. At the same time, it is a play on the typically Dutch engineering mentality: after all, everything around us is designed in the Netherlands, including nature.

This manufacturability is the core of his research. In which way can this be a force for good? What kind of impact are you able to make, and how do we learn to do this in symbiosis? These are big questions that he asks himself, but that is exactly what Bindels likes. If he knew the answer in advance, he wouldn't have to start.


Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Vera van de Seyp

Vera van de Seyp

As a creative coder and graphic designer, Vera van de Seyp moves between the digital domain and applied forms – from hacked knitting machines and generative artwork to modular fonts, homemade computers and playful websites. Openness, accessibility and knowledge sharing are important values in her practice. In 2016, Van de Seyp graduated from the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in The Hague with a degree in Graphic Design. Her passion for computer science and artificial intelligence ensured she continued her education at Leiden University, where she completed a master's in Media Technology in 2020.

'For my graduation product, I researched how a generative agnostic network – a model in which two neural networks compete against each other to create new output – could be used to design album covers. I used a training dataset based on 150,000 existing album covers from the open-source community of Discogs, a music website. The result was a massive selection of hypnotic generative designs for non-existent albums.'

Based on her own experience with open-source platforms and code, where developers share information to build on the work of others, Van de Seyp wants to bring about change in her chosen field. For example, she is part of the Freelance Female Developers network, and recently co-organised a hackathon in cooperation with Creative Coding Utrecht. 'In my opinion, the creative sector is still a male-dominated world, especially when it comes to creative coding. By organising free online workshops for female-identifying and gender-nonconforming artists, designers and other interested parties, I'm hopefully lowering the barrier to entry, and offering a stepping stone into this sector.'

Completely in line with the philosophy of open-source technology – free access to source code for everyone – Van der Seyp both enters into collaborations and encourages them with her initiatives. 'I will publish all of the code I have written myself, including the do-it-yourself tutorials, online. I hope to make it an accessible place for new designers.' In the future, Van de Seyp wants to continue organising workshops and become part of the international creative coder and developer communities by participating in a residency or fellowship outside the Netherlands.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Wesley Mapes

Wesley Mapes

Value and (re)evaluation play a central role in the practice of Wes Mapes. His visual language and use of materials have both a symbolic and metaphorical significance. With these materials, which often come from the construction sector, he references the fact that the entire world has been built by Black people. In the time of slavery, it was their work that provided Europe's wealth, they were the ones who built the New World, and in postcolonial times, their labor that was used to restart the economy. Recognition of this history falls dramatically short. It goes beyond just color – it also touches on contemporary class structures and socioeconomic status. Mapes explains: 'Consider how unequal work and working conditions are valued: blue-collar workers physically exerting themselves in uncomfortable conditions earn less than white-collar workers.'

Mapes transforms the aesthetics of these circumstances (such as scaffolding) into installations that provide space for himself and others. He frequently collaborates with fellow artists. For example, he's part of the Pillars of Autumn collective (together with Tobi Balogun, Walter Götsch and Dion Rosina) and hosts a radio program together with Marcel van den Berg. Nothing happens alone – everything requires input from others, and this is how communities of like-minded individuals arise who help and support each other. Here there's also a reference to Black life, where families and communities are essential for survival.

With the building materials he uses, Mapes also wants to demonstrate that you can create something of value out of the most basic materials. It's an idea that goes back to how people all over the world manage to live in the most desolate conditions with minimal resources. 'My work is raw, rugged and scrappy,' he says. 'It's like soul food. You don't use the fanciest ingredients, but the end result is delicious. From an artistic perspective, I draw parallels in the use of materials and the attitudes of people like David Hammons, Mark Bradford, Jean Michel Basquiat and Sam Gilleam.'

Mapes also applies his approach, expertise, and way of being to an educational context. He regularly teaches at different departments of the Rietveld Academie. For example, with his 'Deconstructivist Dumpster Dive' he introduced students to the value of reusing found materials and the inventiveness and creativity that requires. He also teaches them alternative interpretations of world history, taking a pan-African view that employs a different linearity and network of knowledge transfer. Origins and routes follow different paths, and there's so much more to know than what is taught at school. He concludes: 'You have to do it yourself, because ''the schools can't teach us shit.”'


Text: Vincent van Velsen
Alvin Arthur
Alvin Arthur

Alvin Arthur

Momentum. Something designer, performer and educator Alvin Arthur is sensitive to. If the timing does not feel right, then he will not take it any further. This year it was a challenge to find a balance between what was possible and what was not, in order to remain both productive and healthy. The intended collaborations with other professionals did not go ahead for various reasons. However, it seemed like the time was right for his education project 'Body.coding'; programming with the body.

Body.coding is one example of Arthurs movement and body-based approach, also known as kinesthetics. His goal is to ensure that children from a young age realize that many things they see in their everyday life are digitally programmed; from the production of a chair, the construction of a building to even the development of a city. And that all of this is carried out by adults, who usually sit silently behind a desk, however there are alternatives.

For his children's education program, Arthur has developed a choreographic language; drawings in basic geometric forms and colors that show children how they need to move in order to depict a symbol. This, eventually, will allow them to program an entire sentence. Group dynamics are incredibly important. Those who quickly catch on are usually those who are able to explain this new language to their peers in a way that they understand. There is also room for imagination; what is the meaning of the choreography they have made together?

With help from the school network of the Eindhoven presentation platform MU, Arthur has hosted a number of workshops for various age groups in order to test and further develop his methods. In the new school year these methodologies will become widely available, allowing schools to work with this program.

Bringing movement into the classroom is vital to Arthur. 'The minute we sit a child down in a chair a great deal is lost. It's convenient for us, but it has long-term effects.' Arthur is convinced that children are not given enough skills to meet the challenges of the world. 'I think that many of the struggles we face as a society, globally stem from the fact that we do not know enough about ourselves, as we are not able to fully experience our bodies. This is the reason why I do this, so that we can learn more about ourselves by learning more about our bodies.'

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Anna Fink
Anna Fink

Anna Fink

Austrian landscape architect Anna Fink investigates life patterns in specific landscapes and how they continually interact. She wants to unravel and strengthen this relationship, which she calls 'topographic life'. Fink does this by giving new meaning to the everyday location-bound customs and cultural actions with which we form the landscape.

Her new venture 'The taskscape of the forest' follows on from her graduation project 'Landscape as house'. It takes us to Austria where, together with her family she owns part of a forest. Through active fieldwork, she examines the personal actions and activities essential for shaping the landscape and preserving the vitality of a place. How do we shape such a plot? What informs the choice of maintenance, planting or harvesting trees or letting the forest take its course? Fink asks herself these questions, just as forest rangers or other owners of forestland. 'My goal is not to judge. I want to ask questions, overturn assumptions, to initiate dialogue regarding the different ways of interacting with the environment, how one defines nature, and what it means to live in a landscape. This is different from walking or cycling through the landscape because then you only consume. You limit the meaning of nature to something distant; to a concept.'

Given her need to research and develop a method, the past year seemed like the perfect time to set up her interdisciplinary design and research studio. It is aptly named Atelier Fischbach, after the place where Fink grew up. She also initiated a summer school in Austria. For the workshop 'Inhabiting wilderness' she works with Dutch designers and local craftsmen. In a riverbed, they build 'topographic furniture': subtle and transient interventions in the landscape that temporarily shape or mark their presence. The oven builder does not make an iconic wood-burning oven like everyone in the region, rather an outdoor furnace that disappears at high water. The loam builder's stamp-loam floor dissolves into nothing after a few rain showers. 'The physical work and our constant presence at the river create a connection with the place. There is room for dialogue from a shared experience called “embodied knowledge”.' Fink documents her research through photography, a film and a series of small books.


Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Arvand Pourabbasi
Arvand Pourabbasi

Arvand Pourabbasi

Arvand Pourabbasi graduated in Interior Architecture from the KABK. Over the past year, he has been studying the concepts of 'comfort' and 'exhaustion'. He believes being productive has a romanticized image that ignores fatigue, procrastination and anxiety. Rather than leisure time being a moment for rest and comfort, it falls within a capitalist logic. According to Pourabbasi, it is a time to recharge before quickly returning to work and maintaining a given level of productivity. He also analyses the meaning of work. Burn-out isn't so much caused by physically demanding labor; it is an exhausting effect of sedentary work on office employees' bodies. Within these contexts, 'home' is where exhaustion and comfort are intertwined.

Pourabbasi runs his studio, appropriately named WORKNOT! with Golnar Abbasi. They shed light on the extreme conditions that shape our society. WORKNOT! curated the collective project 'Fictioning Comfort' out of the need to explore the concept of comfort in a way that transcends artificial or artificial capitalist ideas. Socio-political artists showed their work in relation to different customs and approaches concerning 'comfort'. This ranged from installations, performances and historical research to science fiction, image production and performative objects. 'The meanings derived from the concepts are very diverse. They are about the exhaustion of the body, the land and politics. Such a project helps me to apply new layers to my work.'

To delve deeper into the subject, Pourabbasi spoke with various professionals during the development process, including physiotherapists, psychologists and designers, especially Bik van der Pol who helped him to curate the show and formulate the complex concept of comfort and exhaustion. Discussions with design studio Refunc, who specialize in 'Garbage Architecture', helped Pourabbasi to develop a carpet for use in presentations and discussions concerning his areas of interest. Pourabbasi considers carpets to be the most basic product that signifies both comfort and homeliness as well as a sprawling landscape.

He will collate the outcomes of his research into a publication. 'Drawing conclusions or giving unambiguous answers is not my goal. I am not a problem solver. I want to put the pieces together, and in this case, a publication is the vehicle. It will be an important document for raising awareness and envisioning a different future.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Chiara Dorbolò
Chiara Dorbolò

Chiara Dorbolò

Although she is trained as an architect, building as much as possible is definitely not what she strives for. Chiara Dorbolò's focus is on the question of what it means to be a contemporary architect. Traditionally, a building constructed based upon your design is perceived by many as the most rewarding part of the job. A significant measure of success is the number of buildings that have been constructed under your design guidance. However, for the younger generation this is different according to Dorbolò: 'Many architects in my peer group are working at the edge of the discipline and are engaged in the ethical responsibility that this profession carries. They do not want to commit to a profit driven system where there is little or no space for other motives and values.'

Dorbolò works at the cutting edge of spatial design and social science, something that she became interested in during her graduation project at the Academie van Bouwkunst in Amsterdam. Here she carried out research into the role of borders in migration patterns centered around the Italian island of Lampedusa, one of the most important arrival points for migrants crossing the Mediterranean Sea from Africa to Europe. 'I became aware of the extent of the social issue and realized that it wasn't a matter of simply designing a solution to a problem. Since then I have become much more involved with research and I started to write more and more about architecture and urbanization, including pieces for Failed Architecture and Topomagazine.com. I also started teaching architectural theory at the Rietveld Academy.'

This year Dorbolò has developed her expertise in storytelling and creative writing through workshops, coaching and professional work. She focused on assembling a publication containing a collection of stories paired up with follies – architectural structures without a specific function. Additionally, over the course of the past year she has published numerous articles and essays and collaborated on various projects exploring the intricate relationship between storytelling and architecture. The fact that she does not reject the designing of new buildings is demonstrated by the successful participation in a design contest for a large housing complex in Milan together with a group of other architects. Dorbolò contributed to the preliminary research, the concept and the storytelling in the proposal that won first place. 'Stories on Earth' is another project where she is exploring the possibilities of combining creative writing and design. Together with Failed Architecture she mediated a collaboration between professional designers and writers. This project will be presented in 2021 at the Biennale of Venice.
Cream on Chrome
Cream on Chrome

Cream on Chrome

Having graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2018, Martina Huynh and Jonas Althaus went on to form Cream on Chrome, a partnership which carries out research into the social impact of technological developments. Their interactive installations, presentations, videos and digital tools primarily pose questions such as: what is a meaningful relationship between humans and technology? What are the consequences of our dependency on devices? And who is actually responsible for the problems associated with technological progress?

One project that specifically addresses the latter question is 'Proxies on Trial'. 'Complex global issues like climate change or the current pandemic can get stuck in abstract discussions,' Huynh says. In order to make the conversation more concrete and give us a sense of control, the duo decided to press charges against everyday objects. Three different lawsuits take place in a 'whodunnit' video: a sneaker is arrested and prosecuted for global warming, an alarm clock is accused of causing traffic jams, and a face mask is on trial for not showing up in time to prevent infections. The fictional debate between prosecutors and defendants raises questions about mutual blame and the search for scapegoats. The decision to accuse objects (instead of people) is meant to prevent the jury from being biased.

Huynh and Althaus enjoy exploring the origins of established systems, consulting different philosophies, from Bruno Latour and Ubuntu to the ancient Greeks. With their Lab of Divergent Technologies, they turn the relationship between humans and technology inside out. Assuming that everything designed is a reflection of the creator and their zeitgeist, Cream on Chrome presents alternatives based on other philosophies and beliefs.

For example, they take a closer look at common, well-established concepts – like the clock. Our entire society is organized around the idea of linear, measurable time; a notion that was simply agreed upon. On one hand it's very efficient, but at the same time, it limits our freedom. What if we decided to use intuitive time instead? 'Today's technical applications often make users feel powerless. We like to create different designs that require more personal responsibility,' says Althaus. 'With our installations, we want to inspire the audience to rediscover their own role.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Gilles de Brock
Gilles de Brock

Gilles de Brock

With the help of YouTube, Gilles de Brock taught himself how to make hand-tufted carpets with wild, colorful patterns. Encouraged by his success he thought that something similar might work with ceramic tiles. Although printed tiles already exist, the specific glazing properties he had in mind disappeared during the manufacturing process. So, what did graphic designer, art director and creative coder Gilles de Brock do? He built his own ABCNC (AirBrush Computer Numerical Control) machine, explaining: 'Whatever I didn't know, I learned from YouTube videos.' Once everything was working, De Brock spent a few days at the EKWC (European Ceramic Work Centre) working with Koen Tasselaar and Jaap Giesen on the composition and behavior of the glazes. 'I eventually realized that I should rely on experts for the craftsmanship, and do the rest myself online.'

De Brock can now print tiles exactly as he intended but, this didn't happen without a fight. It took two years to get the machine to produce shiny glazed tiles, instead of pieces of junk. The tiles are fascinating because of the alienating effect they have on viewers. At first, they appear to be handmade, but upon closer inspection they are far too perfectly formed for that to be possible. There's something slightly psychedelic about the distinct aesthetic of the pixelated patterns and colors with a glaze that resembles car paint. The initial results were displayed at the Unfair art fair in Amsterdam, where they hung like colorful collages on the wall, contained within the borders of a frame. It was nice that he sold some artwork, but De Brock definitely doesn't see himself as an artist: 'I'm more of an entrepreneurial applied designer who sees the potential in collaborating with architects and interior designers. I envision a bar in a café or hotel lobby, or furniture and metro stations covered with my tiles.' In Jaap Giesen, he has found a partner who can help him market his new products commercially.

Because of the coronavirus, other exhibitions have been postponed, including one at the Fisk Gallery in Portland (US). The results of his research however have led to a publication with Corners, one of the leading graphic design and risograph printing studios in South Korea, which will also distribute it throughout Asia. Additionally, there will certainly be an exhibition in Seoul in the near future.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Giorgio Toppin
Giorgio Toppin

Giorgio Toppin

The art academies where Giorgio Toppin studied did not fully appreciate that his concepts were linked to his cultural background; there was no scope for non-Western approaches and ways of thinking. He was subsequently motivated to make his work public and move beyond academic contexts. In 2007, together with his sister Onitcha, Toppin established the fashion label XHOSA, a moniker similar to his middle name. He wants to offer a more varied and broader choice to young men who want something more in their wardrobe than shirts and jeans. He is proud that he is both from Amsterdam, born in 'little Suriname' (Amsterdam Zuidoost), and a black man with a Surinamese background. 'I mix the two worlds into new narratives. I translate them into collections that blend into the contemporary western context. Fashion that I and my clientele find cool to wear.'

His interest in the Surinamese diaspora and the culture of his homeland led the designer to return to Suriname last year for the first time since he was a baby. Toppin recorded everything and made a documentary to contextualize his research into Surinamese costumes, craftsmanship and techniques. He interviewed artisans about their profession and its development. 'They all gave the same answer: the value of preserving traditional crafts is important and evolves with societal changes. I showed them other possibilities. They were amazed that I translated their fabrics and patterns into a clothing collection.'

He applied indigenous knotting techniques with tassels to a sweater and a hand-embroidered traditional print from the Saramacca district to a winter coat. The creole 'kotomisi', which is extremely difficult to put on, is given a new and easy to wear silhouette. 'In Suriname, the women go to cultural parties in full regalia. Their outfits are passed on from generation to generation. However, this tradition does not apply to men. They rarely get further than a T-shirt and pants. That's a pity.' Therefore, his new collection ensures that men and women, here and in Suriname, have a greater variety of clothing that also adds something new to the street scene. The Covid-19 outbreak meant he could not present his collection during New York Fashion Week, but a launch closer to home is imminent. He also plans to organize viewings for shop buyers.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Jing He
Jing He

Jing He

It should have been a year filled with travel and executing several concrete, ambitious plans. Instead, for Jing He, it has become a period of sitting still and reflecting on her own practice: 'This year I had the opportunity to discover how I can use myself.'

The inspiration for her project plan 'Elysium' was the transformation of her Chinese hometown. 'I can't really prove that I grew up in that city,' she says. 'I don't have any evidence, because all the buildings from my childhood have disappeared.' They have been replaced by modern office buildings and shopping centers. And to give the city some extra appeal, it recently added a life-sized copy of Paris's iconic Arc de Triomphe. It's not an exact imitation, but an adapted design which includes office space and an art gallery.

The idea was to visit this Arc and two other Chinese replicas, as well as a number of other places in China where you could see the imitation and reinterpretation of European cultural history. The practice of copying and identifying formations as social phenomena are often central to He's work. She intended to conclude her research trip with a visit to Paris, 'the original', which would offer inspiration for a series of objects. However, the arrival of the coronavirus, starting in China, threw a spanner in the works. Her trip was cancelled.

Suddenly, there was time to think about an issue that He kept circling back to: how can you translate your research into a social phenomenon into a design, an object, something tangible? How can you make it visual? 'Sometimes an idea is just an idea, but making is a whole different path,' says He. Thanks to advice from former teachers at the Design Academy and the Gerrit Rietveld Academie, she has explored new ways of creating and forming routines. For example, it led her to create objects out of fresh fruit, which quickly decompose. Another discovery was drawing: not purposefully sketching, but drawing as a means to freely generate new ideas: 'That gave me courage, because it made me realize that I don't have to know the outcome in advance.'

Through her drawing and online research, she gained new ideas and insights which have yet to be visualized and materialized. He still wants to continue with her original plans as soon as possible.

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Juliette Lizotte
Juliette Lizotte

Juliette Lizotte

'My fascination with the subversive figure of the witch began at a young age,' says Juliette Lizotte, also known as jujulove, 'but over the years it faded into the background.' In recent years however, her interest returned and has become the subject of her research. Primarily interested in the relationship between witches and nature, Lizotte makes a connection to ecofeminism. This social and political movement stretches back to the seventies and assumes a correlation between the oppression of women and the decline of the environment. 'As a subject the witch is the perfect vehicle for current events. Her evil image is undeserved. The witch is due a modern interpretation; she is actually an autonomous person, a disruptive, revolutionary character who consciously takes her responsibilities towards the flora and fauna around her'.

French by birth and educated at the Sandberg institute, Lizotte wants to revitalize the climate change discussion with her video work and LARP games, a wake-up call to make people reconsider their harmful habits when it comes to the environment. She aims to create accessible work that also draws interest from outside of the world of art. 'I focus my energies on a younger audience. Youth in particular should feel challenged by the climate crisis. However, the subject is sadly quite often viewed as boring and evokes feelings of guilt. Besides, many other social-political questions seem more urgent.'

Last year Lizotte has followed dance-, performance- and writing courses. She collaborated with dancers and theatre makers and with a fashion designer co-created costumes from recycled plastic for the dancers in her videos. She also delved into the possibilities of LARP-gaming and received advice on optimizing her work presentation. It all served a purpose; to give her research more depth and shape and to create a parallel world to inspire others. Due to the outbreak of the coronavirus the presentation of her work had to be delayed. 'Video shoots could not go ahead and have been postponed. But we picked ourselves up; last week we managed to get together for the first time to film, which was pretty exciting.' Lizotte documents her research both online and in a publication.
Kasia Nowak
Kasia Nowak

Kasia Nowak

The relationship between art and the environment has fascinated Kasia Nowak since she was young. Her graduation project 'Art in Context', which won the 2016 Archiprix, investigated the optimal spatial conditions for art and how they are experienced. The project she has researched over the past year continues this concept, however she has shifted the focus from 'an urban location' to 'a specific location', namely the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen. As the curator of her own narrative, she formulates a new and different museum typology: a positive and critical take on exhibiting.

The choice of Museum Boijmans van Beuningen is specific. Since the museum is undergoing a renovation, Nowak sees this as a unique opportunity. She also thinks Adrianus van der Steur's ideas are aligned with her own. 'His designs for the original building took specific artworks into account. For example, he wanted to avoid shadows in the corners of the rooms. Such considerations should happen more often.' She delves further into the architectural context of artworks, focusing on aspects often neglected or even ignored in museums: 'Placing a work of art in the wrong context creates an incomplete experience.' She has found numerous examples where placement, natural light, artificial light, or dark spaces can affect how a work is displayed and interpreted. She spoke to historians and read biographies and interviews with artists, from which it became clear that many artists explicitly state how their work should be displayed. Nowak also investigated where certain artworks have been, whether they were specifically made for a location, and whether they were integrated into the architecture.

The results of her research 'Art in the City' will probably be displayed in the Depot of the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen. For the time being, she is making scale models of objects and experimenting with alternative materials, transparency, shapes and colors. 'It is a privilege to be the curator of your own exhibition that deals with how you can present differently.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Kuang-Yi Ku
Kuang-Yi Ku

Kuang-Yi Ku

For his 'Tiger Penis Project' Kuang-Yi Ku won the Gijs Bakker Award from the Design Academy in Eindhoven two years ago. The project presents a sustainable alternative to the use of protected species in Chinese medicine and is more relevant than ever. As the consumption of wild animals in China may have been responsible for a pandemic, the search for an alternative has become even more urgent. 'I have been trying to think of a way to produce artificial bats and pangolins,' says Ku, 'to enable us to preserve traditions and at the same time prevent disaster.'

Meanwhile, temporarily from Taipei, Ku is working on three projects for which he has applied to the Creative Industries Fund NL. As a social designer and bio-artist with a background in dentistry, he designs controversial scenarios for the human body. These are based around health, sexuality and our interaction with other species on the planet. Ku searches for methodologies connecting design and medical science. To keep the context contemporary, he also adds a dose of sociology and politics.

Quite often these scenarios portray an oppressive future which explores the lines of what we perceive to be acceptable. An example of this is the project 'Delayed Youth' which outlines a dystopian scenario where the conservative party of Taipei has removed all sexual education from school textbooks. In that case, why not develop an injection that removes one's sex drive and halts the onset of puberty until a person is legally allowed to have sex – at the age of eighteen? A video shows how uniform the world would look if, up until their eighteenth birthday, people are virtually indistinguishable from each other, including trouser skirts for the gender-neutral youth. The second project explores the ethical aspects of modern-day reproductive technologies. 'Grandma Mom' introduces the idea of surrogacy in elderly women for their own daughters, which allows the daughters to continue with their careers.

The third project on which Ku is working is also based around the concept of sexuality and reproduction. Together with an animal ecology researcher from the VU in Amsterdam, Ku compares an androgynous snail with other hermaphrodites; what is normal for a snail, is abnormal for humans. 'Perverted Norm, Normal Pervert' takes a biological view on discrimination of sexual minorities.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Lieselot Elzinga
Lieselot Elzinga

Lieselot Elzinga

Feminine and tough, with a rough edge. That's how Lieselot Elzinga describes her eponymous fashion label, Elzinga, which she founded together with Miro Hämäläinen after graduating from the Rietveld Academy in 2018. Their love of the stage is evident in their designs. Hämäläinen attended art academy and theatre school, and Elzinga has been a singer and bass player in various bands since she was twelve. 'You have to be able to make an entrance and perform immediately. Our clothing is extravagant but not too much, just enough to make you feel good on stage.' The brand celebrates fashion and music, with simple, precise shapes and heaps of color. The designs evoke the fifties, sixties, Teddy Girls, Pop Art and rock 'n' roll, but anno 2020. And it's very popular too. Elzinga's graduation collection was spotted by Parrot fashion agency, who immediately signed the pair up and introduced them to London's MatchesFashion.

That's when it all started. They had to translate a graduation collection that didn't focus on wearability into a sustainable collection for the commercial market. 'I incorporated PVC in my graduation pieces. At the art academy, however, I never considered the applicability of what I made. This suddenly became important.' The task didn't daunt the duo, and they got off to a flying start. 'Of course, we made many mistakes, but ultimately you learn the most by just doing.' And they did a lot in their first year: the launch of four collections, a presentation at London Fashion Week and the opening of Amsterdam Fashion Week – appropriately at the Maloe Melo blues café.

In between, they carried out research into fabrics at a Spanish weaving mill and worked on their professional business operations. 'Suddenly it's no longer a hobby but an enterprise', says Elzinga, 'We had to consider finances and business management – pretty awful stuff. What's nice is, it's getting faster and faster. The first collection took eight months, the second four and the last only two.' Meanwhile, a fifth collection is in the works, this time no longer exclusively for MatchesFashion. The style has become more subdued. 'Fashion is bound to human behavior. We make a lot of party clothes, but these days there aren't that many parties. That's why the new collection is a bit quieter.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Marco Federico Cagnoni
Marco Federico Cagnoni

Marco Federico Cagnoni

'Super happy and super tired.' That's how designer Marco Federico Cagnoni feels after a year of researching latex-producing edible plants in collaboration with Utrecht University. He is now one step closer to his goal: a fully biodegradable bioplastic that has all the advantages and properties of synthetic plastic. The twelve months of the Talent Development program are only the start of the material's development. Cagnoni estimates it will take several more years to get 'from the seed to the material.'

Utrecht University allows him to use a greenhouse in their botanical gardens to grow a small selection of plants with potentially high latex yields, such as salsify – the 'forgotten vegetable'. Unlike more well-known bioplastics made from algae or mushrooms, latex (the basis of, among other things, rubber) does not contain cellulose. According to Cagnoni, cellulose-based material does not make a high-performance bioplastic. He was already studying this matter for his graduation from the Design Academy Eindhoven and the development year has allowed him to further research his ideas and hypotheses into practice.

Monitoring the cycle of a plant takes a lot of time; nature cannot be rushed. The corona measures meant he was temporarily unable to take care of the plants, and the harvest failed. Fortunately, he was able to make a chemical analysis from an earlier sample. 'The bottom line is that we discovered a new material that has incredible characteristics and is 70% similar to polyethylene vinyl acetate (PEVA) rubber.' Now they have discovered the 'fingerprint' of the material and know precisely how it is constructed. But there is still a long way to go: 'We have probably found the key; now we must find the lock.'

The next step is testing the material under different conditions. For the project to succeed, a huge increase in scale is needed: ample growing space and larger machines to extract the latex from the roots or an industrial partner who will commit to the research. Each step is demanding but developing this into a mass-produced material is essential to Cagnoni. As a social designer, his aim is to translate science into design. And not only for the '1%', but also for the benefit of the entire earth and its inhabitants.

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Mark Henning
Mark Henning

Mark Henning

These are interesting times for Mark Henning. His graduation project 'Normaal' at the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2017 marked the start of a period of research on how people perceive normal and the rigidity of our normality. In response to Mark Rutte's remark that 'the norm here is that we shake hands', he designed 'the perfect handshake'. He measured everything down to the millimeter and outlined instructions for a training table to be used when integrating newcomers to Dutch culture – to the point of absurdity. Since then, he has continued to create playful interventions that deal with interpersonal space and the related gestures. In March, his work was displayed at the Philadelphia Museum in the US, as part of the 'Designs for Different Futures' exhibition.

And then the pandemic arrived. Now all of us are talking about 'the new normal'. The world has been turned upside down, which can be a gift to a designer who was already questioning what is normal. Henning is currently rethinking his work. The practice mirror and carefully drawn lines on his training table have made way for something else. While Henning's lines were meant to bring people closer together, public spaces are now covered in lines that show people how to keep their distance. Shaking hands is now out of the question: 'A gesture that is meant to show trust has now become a risk.'

Henning thinks it's surreal. Of course, he's already been observing and playing around with the complexities of social distancing. He's working on an adapted installation for Designs for Different Futures, which will soon move to the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis. The question now is how closeness and intimacy will change. He is especially interested to see what will happen as we re-emerge from lockdown, asking: 'How will we deal with interpersonal space? Will we ever feel safe shaking hands again? What will social interaction look like in six months?' Henning is working on a dramatized documentary that highlights different traditions. 'We don't know how long this process will take, but what if we have to learn it all over again?' If that occurs, Mark Henning's tools will offer us one solution. And then we can all reintegrate, with a knowing wink to what we once considered normal.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Marwan Magroun
Marwan Magroun

Marwan Magroun

'You would make a very good father… just like your mother.' On a Tunisian beach, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, Marwan Magroun's mother explains what it was like raising three children by herself in Rotterdam. Magroun's father wasn't around – something that seems to confirm the stigma surrounding fathers from a migrant background. But in his current circle of friends, the photographer and videographer has had a very different experience. He sees divorced fathers with Cape Verdean, Antillean and Surinamese roots fighting for their children, consciously focused on how to provide for them, and grappling with the question of whether they are doing it right or not. So, to counter the negative image of bi-cultural fathers, he decided to make a photo-series and a film. He explains: 'Since 9/11, there's been something projected on us. I'm looking for ways to combat that. Instead of a prejudiced image of the group as a whole, I want to provide a more personal, nuanced view.'

In his half-hour documentary, 'The Life of Fathers', he follows three single fathers. While he interviews his friends and photographs them at close range, his search for nuance is filmed under the direction of Rien Bexkens. 'We all think in stereotypes,' says Magroun, 'until you get to know the people as individuals. The fathers I spoke to want to see their children, be involved and raise them to be good people.' The film was screened at the IFFR in January and is currently in the running for a variety of international festivals. Magroun's goal is to make more of these kinds of independent productions – he calls them 'meaningful stories'.

His passion for photography began completely by chance in 2012, when he got an old SLR camera from 1967, found among some rubbish on the street. He bought a roll of film at the HEMA (a famous Dutch department store) and started taking pictures of the city where he was born and raised. Four years later, he bought a new camera and quit his job as an organizational expert; in 2017 he won the Kracht van Rotterdam photography prize. He's now scaling up his business: 'I've now reached the level where I can just do what I think is cool. There are still plenty of stories waiting to be told.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Maxime Benvenuto
Maxime Benvenuto

Maxime Benvenuto

Design research. Much has been written and said about it, but what is it really? Or rather, what does it mean? Last year, when Maxime Benvenuto visited the graduation show at the Design Academy Eindhoven, where he also graduated with honors in 2016, he noticed that most of the exhibitors relied on design research. 'But,' he wonders, 'can you really call it that if you've simply read a book as a way to justify prroduction?'. Benvenuto views it more as a discipline that collects intangible knowledge and information, without immediately resulting in a product. Research is never finished, there is no end result, there is only an intermediate state. Therefore, what he is presenting at Dutch Design Week is just a snapshot.

Benvenuto started his own design research – on the practice of design research. He is now conducting in-depth interviews with 17 researchers from the Netherlands, Italy, France, the UK and Japan. They describe the discrepancy between education and practice. For example, a French design researcher at a bio nanotechnology lab had to learn everything from scratch when she started working after finishing her degree. During an interview with a French designer, Benvenuto struggled with the translation of an expression: is it 'la recherche au travers du design' or 'le design au travers de la recherche'? So, is it design for or by research? It turned out that a lot has already been written on the subject – he is currently in the middle of reading discourses by researchers like Pierre-Damien Huyghe, Alain Findelli and Christopher Frayling. 'In practice, it really does matter which preposition you use,' Benvenuto says. Another recurring theme is the subjectivity involved. While most scientists frantically try to remain objective, design research allows for subjective findings. 'That's quite typical', he says. Just like creating interventions to see how people react; design researchers take a much different approach than anthropologists, who want to observe without intervening.

His research on 'the cosmology of design research' is still in progress. It requires depth, which according to Benvenuto, is something that is often missing in design journalism: 'Design has become a fast-moving consumer product, that you should be able to describe in 100 words with a few striking images. But it takes more than that to convey the nuance.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Millonaliu
Millonaliu

Millonaliu

Spatial designers Klodiana Millona and Yuan Chun Liu work together as millonaliu. They share a deep interest in alternative ways of living and cohabitation. They are also critical of architecture as a discipline. They consider it to be political, too dominant, canonical and too focused on redundant paradigms that do not meet current requirements for housing construction.

In their development year, they wanted to study two informal housing structures in the capitals of their native countries Taiwan and Albania. In Taipei, residents often add an extra floor to the existing roof. In a city with sky-high rents, these rooftop extensions are usually rented at relatively low prices, thus meeting a need which the government neglects. In Tirana, a completely different phenomenon occurs; here houses are often not finished but are in a constant state of renovation and expansion. This is partly due to regulations: unfinished houses are subject to tax exemption. It is also due to financing: families abroad will often pay for building work, sending money intermittently.

Due to the corona crisis, the research could not take place in Albania. However, millonaliu were able to carry out field research in Taiwan and conducted further research online during the lockdown. While researching its land ownership formation in time and the forces behind it they focused on a genetically modified rice crop that had to be grown for the Japanese market during its colonial domination of Taiwan, with far-reaching consequences. 'You see how just one type of crop can affect the country, the land, the culture, the industry and even the rituals. We looked at how this crop, and therefore agriculture, has had a strong effect on the environment, both physically and socially.'

The designers are currently organizing the information they have collected for an online publication that they will supplement with comparable examples of alternative forms of cohabitation. Beyond the outcomes of their projects, this development year allowed millonaliu to investigate how to make a living from their work and experiment with types of participatory research. 'How do you collect information that does not come from the people who control the information? What does it mean to research a site both with and within a community? What are our own values, and in this field what do we really want to address?'

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Milou Voorwinden
Milou Voorwinden

Milou Voorwinden

During her final year studying product design at ArtEZ, Milou Voorwinden participated in an exchange program with the textile lab at Falmouth University. 'That's when I fell in love with weaving,' she says. After graduating, she continued with her own hand loom and began to specialize in textile design – not only the design but also the manufacturing process itself. She is now a jacquard weaver at EE Exclusives, where she has access to industrial machines with 76 warp threads per centimeter – extremely suitable for 3D weaving. Over the past year, she has taken a deep dive into the technology. 'Normally, fabric is made on a loom, then the pieces of the pattern are cut out and finally, everything is put together. When you weave in three dimensions, it's finished as soon as it comes out of the machine. 'Using this approach, you can make and design textiles locally with a single process,' she says. 3D weaving therefore offers major sustainability advantages: it cuts down on waste, production time and shipping.

Voorwinden joined forces with a designer from New Zealand who is currently working on a PhD focused on sustainable pattern making. Together, they have made a pair of trousers, which have already been woven several times in an attempt to figure out the best results. For example, 'how thick should the thread be and how much tension should the machine put on the thread?' It is not really about the resulting design, but more about the manufacturing process and possible applications. She has also experimented with spacers that could replace the less sustainable foam found in cushions; it is a kind of woven TPU framework that provides a springy, lightweight interior.

In addition to researching high-tech machines in Heeze, Brabant, Voorwinden went looking for the opposite extreme – she went to Japan to rediscover traditional looms. In the silk-making province of Kyoto, she programmed old machines that didn't use a rapier, but instead relied on a shuttle and continuous thread. 'They are often punch-card machines connected to a box that controls everything with a floppy disk,' Voorwinden explains. She found a way to make tradition and innovation work together, by making an old machine work with new software. 'I'd love to go back some time and study it more,' she concludes.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Minji Choi
Minji Choi

Minji Choi

'In Asia, including my homeland of South Korea, people have respect for every living being' says Minji Choi from her studio in Eindhoven. And that's what her 'The Dignity of Plants' project addresses. She investigates the cultural symbolism of plants in relation to the urban landscape by shifting the perspective to the plant rather than the human. Choi uses the 'dignity of the plant' or the 'rights of the plant' to begin redefining our attitude towards other living things. This attitude is often based on false sentiments and moral judgments about what is good and bad or natural and artificial. How we see nature is how we see the world. By putting yourself in the position of a plant, you can look at nature differently.

Last year, Choi elaborated on this fact with a case study of invasive plants, notably the Black Cherry. Known for its vitality, strength and beauty, the Netherlands began importing these trees from America in 1740. Initially, the Black Cherry was used to stimulate the establishment of production forests consisting of pines. The tree however hindered the growth of the pine trees and began to dominate the forest. The initially admired Black Cherry started to be viewed negatively. Since invasive plants supply seeds to birds and provide shelter for insects and other animals, ecologists are now developing ways to take advantage of them in nature. 'Instead of removing invasive trees, we should protect the ecosystem and boost biodiversity, creating a healthier forest with better soil quality and more balance.'

With the exclusion of invasive plant species, Choi sees parallels with the exclusion of people and the way we treat migrants, refugees or obese people. 'As a designer, I want to share stories with a wider audience and help change our thinking.' Choi has done this through a series of publications, a video documentary, an animated film and interviews with ecologists. She also wants to realize her own 'Garden of Eden' and become proficient in garden design. 'In doing so, I am challenging myself to create my ideal garden, and it only makes my case study stronger.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Mirte van Laarhoven
Mirte van Laarhoven

Mirte van Laarhoven

Having taken to landscape architecture like a fish to water, Mirte van Laarhoven does not develop conventional parks or squares. She works on large-scale visions regarding climate adaptation and the restoration of biodiversity. By creating small interventions, she contributes to a healthy landscape.

Van Laarhoven graduated from the Academy of Architecture in 2017. As a landscape architect, her starting point is not controlling or conquering nature, but moving with nature. She gives water the space to flow more freely and investigates better uses of natural processes.

But how do you create artistic landscape architecture that contributes to the existing landscape? One example is her 'Underwater Forest' of deadwood that attracts all kinds of creatures, influences the current, and is a gauge of ecology. She also makes land-art interventions, such as playground equipment or sculpture gardens, which are attractive for flora and fauna but also humans. 'The idea behind it is that you get to know nature through play, by learning to look deeper and interact with everything that lives.'

She made significant steps last year and established her own studio: Living Landscapes. She continues to develop her practice and expand her portfolio. The new set of instruments she is developing requires new knowledge and skills. She works with ecologists, artisans and architects to achieve her ambition to realize projects in public waterways. It is not something she accomplishes as a matter of course. 'Government and nature organizations are enthusiastic, but the culture of consultation and the safety aspects make processes slow and policy-oriented. I hope to find a way to realize pilots faster and to test my ambitions step by step amidst the forces of nature.'

Fortunately, her in-laws recently bought a plot of land in Klarenbeek. It is currently dead forest, but the goal is to breathe new life into this former spruce forest, which died due to drought. 'A forester would probably flatten it and replant it in one go, I however am reevaluating the current situation. Revitalizing a forest by myself is not what you would call landscape architecture, but it suits my way of working. I develop a clear vision, followed by an organic translation into practice. This allows me to determine what is needed on-site and deliver something tailor-made. My ideal is a working process that flows like water.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Nadine Botha
Nadine Botha

Nadine Botha

Research designer and journalist Nadine Botha has always been aware of the role of stories within culture, and not just any stories, but stigmatizing stories based on fear and propaganda. As a conversation starter, Botha uses 'innocent' topics as tools to retrieve and nuance the stories never told about repression, justice and colonialism. She reveals them through archival research, interviews and partnerships with scientists, by displaying the socio-political and cultural value behind the subjects via installations at exhibitions, through digital media, in performances, publications and workshops.

With her ongoing research project 'Sugar: A Cosmology of Whiteness', Botha brings, on numerous levels, sugar into the spotlight – using this sweet topic to highlight the darker side of transatlantic slave trade and the contemporary food industrial complex. Currently, for 'Projecting Other-wise', she is working with epidemiologist Henry de Vries. This project, which is about public health, stigma and viruses through zombies was rewarded with the Bio Art & Design Award (BAD). 'Zombie apocalypse films bring the modern-day myths of society regarding sickness and the dreaded other together,' says Botha. The zombie story originates from Haitian folklore, where it was used to herald the resistance of slaves, and ultimately the Haitian Revolution that led to the abolishment of slavery. Later, in Hollywood films, the folklore was appropriated to signify white people's fear of black people as disease carriers – a preconception that stemmed from how epidemiology was used during the colonial times to justify segregation and genocide. 'Over the years, the films have evolved to show the zombie outbreak being spread by a virus and the fear-inducing zombie horde itself representing the political other of contemporary news narratives, such as terrorism, refugees, the HIV/Aids epidemic and now the coronavirus.'

How the fear of others is by design something that Botha wants to bring into the conversation, partly due to her upbringing in south Africa and master studies at the Design Academy Eindhoven. 'Racism and colonialism were never a part of any design discussion whatsoever.' This is why she seeks interaction with the audience, to facilitate conversations over subjects rarely discussed. With her work, Botha attempts to make a contribution by sharing alternative, nuanced stories that question the existing narrative and, with it, in time, our understanding of what we take for granted in the world.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Nastia Cistakova
Nastia Cistakova

Nastia Cistakova

'Bittere Ernst' ('Dead Earnest'): the working title of the game in which Nastia Cistakova gently ridicules the 'quarter-life crisis'. 'Too many choices for young people, obviously a very real problem'; Cistakova has the audacity to make fun of the search for meaning – in both text and images. Her graduation project at the HKU was rewarded with the Blink Youngblood Award, for the sublimely uncomfortable feelings that it brought to the surface. The main character in the game she had already created: a pink potato. 'A meaningless shape, representing this whole generation of seekers and their
spiritual chaos.'

Over the course of the last year, Cistakova dug deeper into the identity of her wandering potato. Using the internet as her oracle, roaming forums, Googling questions such as; 'How to spice up your life?'. 'Then you get those fantastically dull answers like; keep a dream diary, learn to meet new people, step out of your comfort zone.' Cistakova joyously and freely associated; creating storyboards where she allowed her potato to go bungee jumping, struggle with new encounters or run away from a set of rampaging false teeth. The absurd was exalted into art. In the artist's own words: without any deeper message. 'The idea is more like; how can I make life even weirder than I thought it was? Allow little dramas to go even further off the rails? Now that makes me happy.'

The game is not yet finished, since the creative process is also a search for new techniques and methodologies. By now she has improved her drawing skills, taken an interest in animation, video, interactive design and 3D objects. 'Actually, I always used to draw by hand so that I could fix any mistakes in Photoshop later. I have now bought an iPad to learn how to draw digitally, so that I can be finished in one go.'
In addition to commissioned work for, amongst others, De Volkskrant, De Correspondent and Het Parool, where it's mainly about what others experience, Cistakova's own projects are much more focused on sharing her personal story. Keep your eyes open in the coming months for the release of Bittere Ernst, for a surprising look into Cistakova's chaotic soul.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Nikola Knezevic
Nikola Knezevic

Nikola Knezevic

'Bittere Ernst' ('Dead Earnest'): the working title of the game in which Nastia Cistakova gently ridicules the 'quarter-life crisis'. 'Too many choices for young people, obviously a very real problem'; Cistakova has the audacity to make fun of the search for meaning – in both text and images. Her graduation project at the HKU was rewarded with the Blink Youngblood Award, for the sublimely uncomfortable feelings that it brought to the surface. The main character in the game she had already created: a pink potato. 'A meaningless shape, representing this whole generation of seekers and their spiritual chaos.'

Over the course of the last year, Cistakova dug deeper into the identity of her wandering potato. Using the internet as her oracle, roaming forums, Googling questions such as; 'How to spice up your life?'. 'Then you get those fantastically dull answers like; keep a dream diary, learn to meet new people, step out of your comfort zone.' Cistakova joyously and freely associated; creating storyboards where she allowed her potato to go bungee jumping, struggle with new encounters or run away from a set of rampaging false teeth. The absurd was exalted into art. In the artist's own words: without any deeper message. 'The idea is more like; how can I make life even weirder than I thought it was? Allow little dramas to go even further off the rails? Now that makes me happy.'

The game is not yet finished, since the creative process is also a search for new techniques and methodologies. By now she has improved her drawing skills, taken an interest in animation, video, interactive design and 3D objects. 'Actually, I always used to draw by hand so that I could fix any mistakes in Photoshop later. I have now bought an iPad to learn how to draw digitally, so that I can be finished in one go.'

In addition to commissioned work for, amongst others, De Volkskrant, De Correspondent and Het Parool, where it's mainly about what others experience, Cistakova's own projects are much more focused on sharing her personal story. Keep your eyes open in the coming months for the release of Bittere Ernst, for a surprising look into Cistakova's chaotic soul.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Ottonie von Roeder
Ottonie von Roeder

Ottonie von Roeder

'Currently I'm in Morocco, where I have just learnt how to weave a carpet.' This is the voice-over of the cleaning lady, who, together with Ottonie von Roeder, built the robot you now see in the video doing her job - all by itself. In Roeders 'Post-Labouratory', the cleaning lady worked on her own replacement, allowing her to take time off to go travelling. As opposed to the suspicion of advancing of technology, Von Roeder created a more optimistic scenario. Following in the footsteps of philosopher Hannah Arendt, she makes a distinction between work and labour, the latter includes the jobs that we would rather not do. If we are able to manufacture a robot specifically for such chores, then one is able to spend the time saved doing something immeasurably more enjoyable.

After graduating from the Design Academy Eindhoven, Von Roeder continued her studies into the transition from labour to work. She noticed that her design peers found her self-made robots an interesting solution for physical professions, but failed to associate the experiment with themselves. 'Designers are convinced, as most people, that their own job could never be automated,'says Von Roeder. 'Computers however, have already become extremely important in our field, nearly everything is created with software programs.' Her design research into the future of creative professions explores the possibilities, but also the sentimental aspects. Von Roeder would like to build a robot that is able to take care of her administration and subsidy applications. Meanwhile, in an effort to blur the lines between inspiring and boring tasks, she is also experimenting with software that is able to design models.

Currently Von Roeder is working on a chatbot for the Dutch Design Week which will question visitors. 'Is creativity a strictly human quality or does a computer also possess this ability? Can we simulate design? If so, will it have the same quality? How will it affect the future of our profession?' Ultimately, Von Roeder aims to trigger and activate the audience. 'Automation is threatening if you look passively at how technology is taking over, but you can also choose to take a more active role. If you are able to master the available technology and redesign it and create something useful, then it becomes positive. I see it as a challenge to turn people from consumers into active participants.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Paradyme

Paradyme

Florian Mecklenburg and Karolien Buurman have been repositioning their studio this year; what once began as Goys Birls, has now evolved into Paradyme, Practice for Visual Culture. 'A paradigm is a set of rules that determines how you perceive the world', according to researcher and art director Karolien Buurman. 'We decided to immediately break the rules by spelling the word incorrectly.' The intangible framework of the digital domain keeps the duo occupied. Where the world of images previously was dominated by designers, illustrators and photographers, now anybody who owns a smartphone can be an image maker. Paradyme follows this cultural 180 closely. Their new approach is focused more on design research than on delivering an end product. 'Research and strategy were always a significant part of our design work, but now we appreciate the intrinsic value of the process itself,' says graphic designer Florian Mecklenburg.

Lately, the duo has been dedicating time to search for their place in the world of visual culture and pushing any boundaries that they may encounter. They joined forces with a writer and a thinker for the publication of a series of reports on the influence of visual culture. Not being typographers, they decided to create their own font. 'To not have to strictly follow the rules of typography, feels great,' says Buurman. Their font is called Crop Top and is inspired by the garment which exposes the midriff; an item that down the years has been perceived as a symbol for rebellion against society. They regard it as a character in the broadest sense of the word. The back-story is what piques their interest; 'The crop top reveals social-cultural topics on politics, race, gender and religion.' Extensive research will be followed by a visual publication containing their results.

Another new skill they have learnt is virtual 3D sculpting. The duo has also picked up something tangible and earthy; ceramics – because 'not all solutions are found within the computer.' Currently, they are in the middle of a research project into tactile forms and structures and don't wish to disclose much about the objects that will emerge. In the end that's not what's most important, that's the whole point behind this year's research.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Post Neon
Post Neon

Post Neon

Vito Boeckx and Jim Brady were roommates for a few years whilst students at the Design Academy Eindhoven. They graduated in 2018 with respective virtual reality projects, which they worked on in their living room. As Post Neon, they have continued to develop increasingly sophisticated virtual 3D content. And now, childhood friend Jeremy Renoult has also joined them. 'What we do is recreate objects or situations from the real world in a digital form that you can modify. The challenge is to blur the lines between reality and virtuality in such a way that you sometimes no longer know what you have seen. That surreal element is what makes it interesting', says Brady.

As well as being surreal, it is convenient having a database full of digital 3D objects that you can manipulate indefinitely and use in the most unusual places for campaigns, communication and art. They applied for a grant at the Creative Industries Fund NL to increase their technical skills for the various forms of content. Reality cannot be captured in one program: simulating a building is very different from simulating a garment. They needed the latter to assemble digital collections for streetwear brands Edwin and Lores. But they also designed an AR installation for Cinekid and MU, where children could modify a Coke bottle or a flower on their iPad. They also immersed themselves in the visual language of sand – which is part of the self-initiated 'passion projects'. Brady: 'We saw a documentary about sand scarcity. Did you know that at least fourteen thousand everyday objects are made with sand? If the scarcity continues, there will be no more beaches in 60 years – something we wanted to address. The visual language of sand grains is fascinating and inspiring. We are now working with Fontys to make the project a VR experience.'

'Without VR, the outcomes are difficult to describe. We are therefore working on a showreel that summarizes in a few minutes the highlights of Post Neon's first year. We hope it will also feature the 3D work for Ronnie Flex's new album, which was an assignment from record label Top Notch. Ronnie has put back the release, so we can't say too much about it just yet. But we were responsible for the creative direction and production of the entire album's virtual content.' Each track will feature work by Post Neon on Spotify Canvas: music to listen to and watch.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Rosita Kær
Rosita Kær

Rosita Kær

Artist Rosita Kær (28) is working on a series of ongoing projects in collaboration with her grandmother, Karen-Hanne Stærmose Nielsen (87). Her grandmother's textile collection was the starting point of her ongoing research. The collection was sold in 2018, and, as a result, has been disintegrated.

What does it mean when a collector or collection disappears, and what creative possibilities does that offer? This is one of the questions Kær is focusing on. Her grandmother's eclectic collection included everything from Bronze Age textiles to pieces of broken or worn out fabric that others might consider rubbish, however she saw potential in all of them. The fact that her grandmother wanted to get rid of the collection because of her advanced age was at first difficult for Kær, because the pieces had been such a big part of her grandmother's life. They were as precious, intimate and personal as a second skin. But the project is also about letting go, about friendship across generations, between two women – one who is at the beginning of her life, and another who is nearing the end.

As a weaver, Kær's grandmother knows everything about yarn, spinning and all kinds of textile techniques. While Kær says that she isn't that interested in mastering the techniques herself, the grandmother and granddaughter have a lot in common when it comes to how they approach the material. She says: 'We both dive into the different layers, into the details, as if we were archaeologists. We look at how things are made, fall apart, and are repaired. For my grandmother, a weaving flaw in a piece of textile has more value than a flawless piece, because the mistakes give you a glimpse into the thought process of the maker. I also prefer holes and slight imperfections. An archaeologist looks for fragments that, when combined, make a story more complete. But there are always still missing pieces. I'm only interested in partial and slippery conclusions.'

In the past year, she has also had conversations with curators, archivists and artists about how they interpret collections. Eventually, Kær will present her own research in an exhibition in which her interest in textiles, ceramics, spatial design, text, archaeology and museology will come together. In the exhibition and accompanying publication, the recorded conversations she has had with her grandmother over the past four years, will be the thread connecting the objects she will exhibit.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Sae Honda
Sae Honda

Sae Honda

Lush green gardens filled with ferns, Japanese blossom trees and two precisely aligned deer. Ivy, a pot with blooming hortensia's and a fat panda bear. These small artificial landscapes are exhibited at the showroom of the Chinese factory in the Guandong province, where artificial plants are produced. Jewelry designer Sae Honda visited various factories during her research project 'Parallel Botany' to investigate the materials used and their seemingly life-like appearance. Here she studied the manufacturing process of the fake plants and flowers. 'It's crazy, just like a science fiction film.'

Like a somewhat contemporary archaeologist Honda questions our current value systems. In her interdisciplinary practice, which aside from jewelry includes objects, installations and publications, she is less interested in the monetary value but rather focuses on the intrinsic value of an object which is found in the attention it is given and how it is treated, regardless of whether it is fake or real. This also applies to Honda's previous project and publication 'Everybody needs a rock' (2018) as well as the artificial plants. 'I don't wish to promote artificial plants but rather to draw people's awareness to what I call “fake nature”. We place less value on these man-made products, but this new fake nature, carefully reproducing the nerves, shadows or raindrops has a value of its own. This craft of faking is fascinating to see. There are so many industrially produced plants where the human touch is clearly visible.'

Honda also investigated the potential of imitation pearls. For her project 'Faux Pearl' she travelled to her homeland Japan where she visited small factories and workshops in Osaka. These places have small-scale production runs where the fake pearls are made by hand and coated with pearl essence. In collaboration with one of these companies and employing their techniques, Honda was able to experiment with shapes other than the classic round bead.

In order to refine her business, start a jewelry label and find the right sales channels, Honda brought in the expertise of Sarah Mesritz, co-founder of the jewelry platform and magazine Current Obsession. In this way she hopes to find shops for her reproducible collection of custom artificial jewelry, made in Japan and assembled in the Netherlands.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Saïd Kinos
Saïd Kinos

Saïd Kinos

Large, colorful murals and artworks reveal street-art artist Saïd Kinos' background in graphic design. Within his design practice Kinos makes use of collage, paint and assemblage techniques that result in works where the closely placed and overlapping fragmented typographies create the illusion of depth. The way in which people communicate; language, symbols, (social) media and the overload of information are his biggest sources of inspiration.

Kinos makes autonomous works for museums and galleries as well as commission pieces. Last year he created three murals at Art Basel and Art Miami which led to an assignment for a mural at a hotel in Okinawa, Japan. The 'Talentonwikkelingsbeurs' (talent development scholarship) gave him the financial freedom to focus on his work and the headspace to think about how to expand his practices on the international stage and to further develop from a content perspective. 'I would like to transcend the street-art label and present myself more as a contemporary autonomous artist who is able to create work accordingly,' says Kinos from his Rotterdam based studio.

The artist also wants to expand his spectrum. In order to give his work an extra dimension; to bring his paintings to life, Kinos has developed his skills in VR, animation, project mapping (a technique that allows you to project a moving image onto a wall) and AR. 'My approach is no different than that of my two-dimensional work, but with an added technical dimension. I would like to master all these forms of digital media, to allow for better communications between myself and the programmers I prefer to work with.' This involves attending online courses in animation and a work visit to the Argentinian-Spanish street art-artist Felipe Pantone, who also broadened his media horizon.

All this Kinos brings together in a large, spacious installation. Inspired by the 'Infinity Room' by Yayoi Kusama, the artist visualizes large-scale works printed on plexiglass surfaces arranged in a row, whereas the rest of the room has been covered in mirrors, allowing the visitor a walk-through experience. In order to realize this, Kinos is constructing scale models, sketching plans and building prototypes. The artist has already presented an installation at the POWWOW! festival in Japan, however due to the pandemic, Kinos has had to re-think his strategies. The Showbox, a company that displays artworks and installations in empty shop windows in Rotterdam, has asked Kinos to participate; the perfect opportunity for a tryout of his installation.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Seokyung Kim
Seokyung Kim

Seokyung Kim

Seokyung Kim loves illustrations, poems and writing. The project 'Alternative of Alternative Literature' which she has been working on for the past year is inspired by a poem from her diary, something she began writing in when she started her studies at the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2014. Her projects focus on the algorithms in human speech, including automated translation services such as Google Translate, Markov chain (a mathematical system that moves step-by-step), voice recognition and automatic correction. 'Alternative or Alternative Literature' is in a way the follow up to her graduation project 'The Trace of Sorrow', a book about sadness, written by an algorithm based on eight hundred poetry collections and novels including works by Tolstoy, Brontë, Joyce and Kafka. Kim shows that even though algorithms have no emotions or brains, through our input they are able to develop an unexpected use of language.

For her most recent project Kim worked together with writers and critics and made use of a Markov chain. 'Because the system tried to imitate my style, the end result was randomly translated content, seemingly written by a poet disguised as an algorithmic author.' Out of interest in the ways in which machines both limit our creativity and thought processes, whilst at the same time strengthening our imagination, and how writers and reviewers responded, Kim took part in an online writing workshop. Here she read her Markov chain translated poem, without letting anyone know. Some fellow students didn't like it, whereas as others called it a new style of writing, comparable with conceptual and experimental pieces in ambient music. Kim also asked Korean writer and critic Young June Lee and Dutch writers Lars Meyer and Martin Rombouts for their opinion on the poem. Whilst one was not afraid to experiment with these alternative methods, the other was resoundingly critical.

'I would like to show that a translating machine has more potential than just fulfilling a practical function. A collaboration between “human” writers and machine algorithms opens up possibilities – not just for fun, but it can also become a fresh source of inspiration previously unthought of by writers.' The poetry created by the algorithms and the criticism from the writers and reviewers, will be presented by Kim in a publication. The text takes prominence, but Kim is also experimenting with graphic design. During the process, she often contemplates on 'the relationship between book designer and author'. Additionally, she is learning how to program to broaden her creative practices and be able to create commissioned interactive designs and websites.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Sissel Marie Tonn
Sissel Marie Tonn

Sissel Marie Tonn

Sissel Marie Tonn works on the cutting edge of art and design and conducts artistic research and design studies working with various scientific disciplines. This year she won the Bio Art & Design Award (BAD) with her research into microplastics, 'Becoming a Sentinel Species' in collaboration with microplastics expert Heather Leslie, and immunologist Juan Garcia Vallejo, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam. Amongst other things she is interested in the complex way in which we relate to ecological disturbances in our environment, from microplastics to earthquakes. After moving to the Netherlands, she became fascinated by earthquakes that were the result of human activity. 'In the case of Groningen and the earthquakes that have occurred there due to the gas extraction, I was fascinated by the detailed stories that people living there told me – some even claimed that they would wake up a few seconds before the earthquake occurred. This made me imagine that they had developed an extreme sensitivity to these vibrations in the ground, the same way a bird would fly low and silently in the calm before a storm, or a dolphin heads to shore before a tsunami.'

In the installation 'The Intimate Earthquake Archive' Tonn's research and the personal stories of the Groningen residents are combined with seismic data. The hard data are literally woven into a soft textile vest, designed with fashion designers Gino Anthonisse and Christa van der Meer. Tonn's partner, sound artist Jonathan Reus translated the data into interactive compositions and sonic vibrations. 'In this way, the audience is able to experience man-made geological changes and gain a better understanding of the phenomenon.' The second continuous project, 'An Education of Attention' ties in with this and is inspired by a stay in Istanbul, a place that in the past was subject to numerous earthquakes due to its fault line position above two tectonic plates. In Istanbul she interviewed residents about their experiences and memories, before, during and in the aftermath of these earthquakes and how they influenced their daily lives in this high-risk area. The data retrieved were woven into a textile topographic map.

In order to forward her practices and professional career, Tonn enlisted the help of two mentors; media artist and creative coach Jennifer Kanary Nikolov(a), who specializes in researching how thoughts can influence our body, soul, behavior and consciousness. Her second mentor is design historian and critic Alice Twemlow.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Suk Go
Suk Go
Suk Go

Suk Go

Folklore is not very popular among the younger generation. In times of globalization however, and the accompanying fear of identity loss, folkloric expressions acquire a new value. 'This is how folk music speaks to our roots,' says information designer Suk Go. 'It is often the older generation who try to keep musical traditions alive. However, the strict and old-fashioned way in which they approach this task doesn't always appeal to young people.' Go graduated two years ago from the Design Academy Eindhoven, producing contemporary visualizations of traditional Korean folk music. She chose not to use the standard staves, which very few people can read. Instead, she developed new graphics and installations to make the music more accessible.

After living in the Netherlands for several years, Go decided to study Dutch folk music, which is also disappearing due to its 'dull' image. 'I'm always looking for the spark that can bring something to life', says Go. She found that spark in the dances that accompany traditional Dutch songs. Everyone in the Netherlands can envisage the 'clog dance', but few people know how to do it. To her surprise, there was hardly any information on folk dances in the archives of the Meertens Institute. She scoured the internet, delved into books, talked to music associations, interviewed experts and created an online archive of Dutch folk dance. At moveround.ml you can find detailed information about these dances from the past, from the Afklappertje (Clapper), to the Driekusman, to the Zevensprong (Seven Leaps). The website presents the history of these dances alongside videos and instructions. Go made animations that you can follow without the need for explanatory notes. Its animated graphic icons transcend language, culture and age; you instinctively know when to swing, stamp or clap.

There are many clogs to be found on the website. The costumes, however, turned out to be much more varied. Each region or city has its own caps, scarves, aprons, hats and shirts. 'The cultural variation is greater than I imagined,' says Go. Covid-19 has made it difficult to investigate this variation further. After all, folk dancing is a contact sport. She is now working on an installation that projects her animations onto the floor to be able to follow the instructions step by step – even if you have to keep a little more distance than before.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Telemagic
Telemagic
Telemagic

Telemagic

Algorithms are the common thread in Telemagic's work. Cyanne van den Houten, Roos Groothuizen and Ymer Kneijnsberg make up this art-meets-technology collective – an open media lab for inventors experimenting with contemporary media and technology. 'We don't look at whether something is good or bad; we look at technology's potential.'

To make the media lab both physically and digitally more accessible, broaden their range and involve other creators, Telemagic are working on tools to share with other artists. One of these is '1 Euro Cinema', a small cinematographic oracle that selects a film for you after you insert one euro. Together with two guest curators, Telemagic filled this 'movie jukebox' with work by more than 40 up-and-coming filmmakers and artists, ranging from short videos to longer documentaries. 'In this way, we offer peers a platform to show their work. It also provides interesting perspectives on how they look at various aspects of today's society.' At the invitation of filmmaker Biyi Zhu, they went to Hong Kong, which resulted in the addition of films and perspectives from outside Europe. China also offers a nice metaphor for the oracle. 'Macau is known as a gambling city; with the 1 Euro Cinema you can bet on a movie.'

Another long-term project is 'Concert in A.I.', which can compose and conduct musical harmonies based on 'AlgoRhytmics', a self-learning music algorithm. In collaboration with Valentin Vogelmann, Mrinalini Luthra and Arran Lyon, they philosophized on how a deep-learning algorithm could theoretically create new musical pieces and genres. They designed a tool that they linguistically trained – after all, music is a language you can parse. 'It's exciting that the algorithm creates patterns, using our tool that stores millions of pieces of data. The results are a new part of the musical spectrum that can endlessly reinvent itself. Usually, we listen to a composer's concert. This is the meta-version of all the music in the world.'

Telemagic's Concert in A.I puts the algorithm center stage. In their magical shows, the designers create varying arrangements where the invisible becomes insightful and tangible. Circles of light and floor projections indicate the notes played and their connection with the instruments. They propose the next step could be an A.I. music label. This autonomous platform would bring together artificial intelligence, musicians and filmmakers.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Tereza Ruller
Tereza Ruller
Tereza Ruller

Tereza Ruller

High in the mountains in the Swiss valley of Engadin, communication designer and performer Tereza Ruller studied, during her design residency, the traditional, colorful, symbolic ornaments, patterns and figures applied by local residents to the facades of their houses using the sgraffito technique. Ruller then translated them into a contemporary digital sgraffito. Over the past year, she has better positioned and professionalized her practice, studio The Rodina. Additionally, as a performative designer, Ruller is exploring topics like body, presence and Non-Western perspectives, a more equitable distribution of resources and labor as well as other ethical issues. She does so by conducting experimental research that combines action, interaction, visual representation and playfulness. Most of her performative designs are visual, but she believes having her own sound is just as important. Accordingly, Ruller collaborated with audio artist BJ Nilsen to create local sounds that accompany her designs.

Together with designer Annelys de Vet, she has also worked on ethical guidelines. These guidelines help Ruller to determine how she is able to work with clients without making ethical concessions. For Vlisco&Co, the Dutch manufacturer of African fabrics, she developed a workshop for young designers from Abidjan, Ivory Coast, where many of the Helmond-based company's factories are located. 'The fabric designs are conceived in the Netherlands,' but she wondered, 'If the young Ivorian designers created something themselves, what would that look like?' Within that framework, for her project 'Investigating Underrepresented Perspectives', she wants to consult experts in the field of social design, such as Myra Margolin. The community psychologist specializes in film and video productions that contribute to social change and empowerment in local communities. Ruller says: 'She helped me realize that when it comes to redistributing resources to benefit the people who need it most, even one designer can achieve something on a small scale.'

As part of her work, she provides the audience with tools like stickers, posters that need to be finished, or a carpet that is a playing field, so they can physically intervene and participate in the design process. 'My goal is for people to contribute to, and become part of the story, to feel it and become playful. Allowing the audience to actively participate in my performances enriches the design process. The outcome is surprisingly different every time.'

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Thor ter Kulve
Thor ter Kulve

Thor ter Kulve

Despite the pandemic, London-based product designer Thor ter Kulve has been able to execute many of his intended plans in his development year – although sometimes otherwise than initially planned.

Firstly, there was his proposal to make a rainbow machine: an object that can reproduce this wonderful natural phenomenon. And it worked. A four-meter in diameter circular structure sprays a mist of water towards its center. When sunlight shines through it at the right angle, a round rainbow appears – this is usually only visible from an airplane. The rainbow machine extends Ter Kulve's typically playful functional objects into the realm of wonder and 'how you can show natural processes in the urban, the non-natural, and thus generate a bond between people.'

This project dovetails with his interest in the city. We are making increasing demands on limited public space. But who does public space belong to? And what role can design play in this? Ter Kulve's designs are often responses to archetypes and structures within the public domain. He uses interventions to instill public space with different functions that make people think. An example of this is the lever he made during the lockdown. When placed over the button on a pedestrian crossing, it can be operated with the knee or elbow instead of using your finger. Such a device can encourage discussions about hygiene in public spaces.

His deliberations on these issues led to conceptual designs that he realized in scale models. Ter Kulve also made 'romantic' collages, photo compositions depicting a more balanced life in the city. He intended to study photography and video, but the courses were postponed due to the coronavirus. Instead of just showing a slick photo of an outcome, he is looking for ways to communicate his methodology – the process leading up to a new object – to a broad audience. The scale models and image collections he has been making are a valuable way to document his thought processes. They are forms to share thoughts without having to implement them immediately – quite a step for a maker.

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Tijs Gilde
Tijs Gilde

Tijs Gilde

Designer Tijs Gilde does not begin with an idea to make a chair, because he believes this limits his mindset. He prefers to experiment and take unusual detours, placing techniques and materials in a new and unfamiliar context. For this design method, Gilde draws inspiration from industrial areas. He likes to work with industrial companies that have no common ground with the design world.

His goal is an interesting, aesthetic and commercial end product. Therefore, he couples his creativity with an economic outlook: 'I work experimentally, but my concept has to provide perspective from the start of the process. Otherwise, I find it too non-committal.' Over the past year, Gilde has continued working on 'Cored', for which he conducted the first experiments during the Envisions exhibition in Milan in 2016. He intended the tests to result in a series of furniture, but now his focus has turned towards lighting. That's how it goes; new ideas and elements keep appearing.

The Talent Development Grant has afforded him the freedom for time-consuming experimentation. For Cored, Gilde researched techniques and materials used in the textile industry, which he combines with other unfamiliar materials. By replacing the core of braided rope – which usually consists of filler material – with another material, he created an aesthetically pleasing lamp that can be hung anywhere. It can also be made in a wide range of colors, patterns and sizes. 'I like mixing up contexts. A rope manufacturer can also make lighting or chairs, which can lend a surprising broadening of a company's market.' This is how Gilde extends his thinking into other unknown worlds.

A well-thought-out presentation strategy is also a vital part of his practice. Unfortunately, a lot has been cancelled. Gilde was unable to show his intended series of Cored furniture at the Salone del Mobile. Because of Covid-19, many industrial companies had to hold back their activities. The money that he would otherwise have spent on showing in Milan however was invested in an internet presentation and a completely renewed website. His astutely posted photos on Instagram during the process were an instant hit. Currently he is working with a major brand to see if Cored can be translated into a range of consumer products.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Tomo Kihara
Tomo Kihara

Tomo Kihara

When a conspiracy theorist tried to convince Tomo Kihara that he was right by using YouTube videos, an idea was born. 'From the moment I saw his home page, it was immediately clear what kind of bubble he was in,' says Kihara, an interaction designer who focuses on the connection between human behavior and technology. He describes how the introduction of artificial intelligence has changed the internet: AI bots predict what you would like to see, and suggest things that match your interests. Other points of view disappear, and the things you were already inclined to believe are confirmed. That doesn't only happen on YouTube – it's also happening on Netflix, Tinder, Amazon and Spotify. On all major platforms, machines use automatically detected personal preferences to determine what kind of information will be presented to you.

Sources of information are always somewhat biased, but if you read The New York Times, you know you're getting something very different than when you watch Fox News. In contrast, recommendation algorithms shape your opinion without any kind of identifiable ideological basis. And in the meantime, they are having a major influence on your worldview. For anyone who is open to a more nuanced view, it's worth taking a look at someone else's home page', says Kihara. As a counterpoint to YouTube, he came up with and developed TheirTube, where you see six different home pages from six different types of people; there is a world of difference. While a 'fruitarian' is seduced by the wonders of a 'hardcore organic life', a 'climate denier' sees proof that global warming is nonsense and a 'conspiracist' is further convinced of his belief in conspiracies.

Kihara is originally from Tokyo and earned a degree in Design for Interaction from TU Delft. After working for some time as a creative technologist at De Waag in Amsterdam, he now works as an independent designer who creates playful interventions that address social-technical issues. The bubbles that we are all part of form the central theme of his work. For Kihara, it's about being open to different ideas from time to time. With this project he accomplished that mission: gaining the 100,000 views he was hoping for within a week of the launch. TheirTube also went viral on Twitter. He quotes the saying 'fish will discover water last' to indicate how difficult it is to be conscious of something when you're right in the middle of it. With this alternative platform, Kihara is challenging those fish to take a more critical look around.

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Ward Goes
Ward Goes
Ward Goes

Ward Goes

Ward Goes lives in Paris, where, alongside his own projects, he works for Dutch clients. This year, for example, he designed his first book: the graduation catalogue for the Design Academy Eindhoven, where he also completed his degree in 2013. Afterwards, he earned a Masters in Cultural Anthropology from Utrecht University. This mix is clearly echoed in his work.

Goes hasn't had time to sit still in the past year. He's been focused on personal development and establishing his practice in a field between visual anthropology, graphic design and journalism. Based on the theme 'objectivity regimes in journalism and public debate', he is examining how he can make a mark on important topics related to the role of media in forming perceptions, balanced reporting, and the changing definition of facts. He explains: 'I'm a news junkie, so I read everything. I integrate that into my work, distorting the relationship between content and imagery. That creates friction. By presenting news in a different context, by expanding and playing with it, I want to inspire debate and encourage people to take a critical look at their sources.'

He mapped out three parallel projects. First, he did fieldwork. His collaboration with furniture designer Arno Hoogland, information designer Irene Stracuzzi and social designer Déborah Janssen challenged him to use different methodologies and processes. Tamar Shafrir served as his advisor, helping him to articulate what he wanted, asking critical questions, and providing literature and theory.

Goes also set an ambitious goal to initiate a monthly conversation with an established designer, typographer, researcher or curator to expand his network and better position his practice. 'By forcing myself to have these conversations, I spoke to artists that I wouldn't normally dare to approach, such as graphic designer Richard Niessen,' he explains. He also had critical discussions with Liza Enebeis from Studio Dumbar and the young French duo from Syndicat about their profession, entrepreneurship and how to make your mark on the public debate.

Finally, to expand his skillset, he learned how to screen print at WOW in Amsterdam. It led to three (political) prints that are part of his final presentation in the form of an installation and a visual essay revealing the outcome of the first two projects.

Text: Viveka van de Vliet
Yavez Anthonio

Yavez Anthonio

As a Dutch person with Surinamese, Moluccan and Portuguese blood, born and raised in Amsterdam Noord, Yavez Anthonio knows the feeling of not quite fitting in. That is, until he went to Rio de Janeiro for the first-time last year for a video shoot. 'I had a pretty stereotypical idea of Rio: samba, favelas, drugs, and beautiful women on the beach. But what I saw was completely different. The youth culture is very mixed there. There's a lot of classism, yet they mix a lot more. They don't make such a big deal about people who are different. I immediately felt at home,' he says.

Anthonio, who films and photographs in Europe for major brands like Nike, Daily Paper, Adidas and Footlocker, decided to carry out his first independent project in Brazil. With 'Rivers of January' he wants to portray the full spectrum of youth culture. The project title is a literal translation of Rio de Janeiro: 'A river that emerges from a single source high in the mountains, and then twists and turns into strong-willed streams – I thought that was a beautiful image,' he says. The project's starting point was actually New York, where he took Portuguese lessons and a course on documentary photography at the International Center of Photography. 'This project is completely different from the fashion shoots that I'm used to. As a photographer, I have to make myself invisible. It's not about my story, it's about theirs,' he says.

In February he was back in Rio and followed ten young people around with his camera – they ranged from fashion designers to gang leaders. Anthonio is trying to portray them 'as purely as possible', but is still trying to figure out what the end result will be having already interviewed and filmed the participants. The plan is to put on shows in Rio, Amsterdam and New York next summer. He asked the participants about 'normal' things, like their plans for the future, or what they wanted to be when they grew up. 'It's not only about extremes, we're just having normal conversations. And then it seems that we're not so different from each other.'

Text: Willemijn de Jonge
Anouk Beckers

Anouk Beckers

For designer Anouk Beckers, 'Dissolving the Ego of Fashion' was primarily a confirmation of her vision. Written by Daniëlle Bruggeman, the book describes the role that fashion plays in the social, ecological and political developments in contemporary society. With her own work, Anouk brings the existing fashion system into question. She started studying psychology, but eventually earned degrees in both TxT (textiles) and fashion from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam. She says, 'While I was studying, I already began investigating alternative ways of working, looking for a way I could proudly say that I work in fashion.'

She's currently focused on introducing a model of making clothing that's better suited to her personally. The high point of this approach so far is her project 'JOIN Collective Clothes' (JOIN), where clothing is made collectively. She explains, 'As a designer, I don't want to be an island – I'd much rather involve other professional and non-professional creators in the process of designing and making clothing.' Because of this, she's deliberately seeking a different kind of hierarchy.

Anouk refers to JOIN as a 'manual' – a guidebook for a modular clothing system, which is available online and offline as an open-source system. She says, 'I see this manual as an invitation to everyone to start working on alternatives to “fast fashion”. This methodology challenges professional designers, yet at the same time it's accessible to people who have never been involved in making clothes before.'

JOIN is playful, inclusive and collective. You can think of it as a modern form of quilting, where four different parts of a garment (top / J, sleeve / O, trouser leg / I, skirt / N) are each made by someone else, and then later assembled to create a single piece of clothing. Anouk calls it 'playing with material and form'. Another important point: the material that's used is either donated or 'leftovers', because that part of the process has also been carefully considered.

So far, she's organized four workshops at a variety of locations throughout the Netherlands at institutions like De Appel in Amsterdam and Museum Arnhem. According to Anouk, 'If you experience for yourself that making a sleeve takes a full day, chances are you'll be more critical when you want to buy something that's mass-produced.' She's also presented JOIN to seven different (fashion) designers and asked them if they could make an article of clothing using the modular system of JOIN Collective Clothes.

With this approach, Anouk Beckers is also bringing her own position as a designer into question, saying: 'I'm making the first move, but the physical process and end result are completely open. My design method playfully responds to fashion as a system by offering a different perspective and starting a conversation.' For example, they're often asked who the makers are behind the clothes, and how the value of our clothes is determined. How do we decide if something is ugly or pretty? Or what is the relationship between the designer, the maker and the garment? The beauty of the collective collection isn't only found in the physical outcome, but also in the process behind it. She says, 'In my eyes, that's exactly what determines the final value of the clothing in my project. Something of value is being created throughout the entire process. Because of that, it's always beautiful; it simply can't be ugly. It's very different from a product from the fast-fashion circuit.'

Text: Jessica Gysel
Arif Kornweitz

Arif Kornweitz

About fifty years ago, in the event of a disaster, humanitarian organisations would provide assistance on location in the form of food supplies and medical care. Today, they also work remotely, using technology like satellite surveillance and biometric databases. The impact of these practices isn't always easy to manage, and the development of ethical standards is falling behind.

Historically, people have always responded to new technologies by posing new ethical questions. It seems like the development of ethical principles is by definition lagging behind the development of technological objects. With his research, Arif Kornweitz investigates where the boundary lies between ethics and technology, and how it's connected to the practice of design. What happens if we view ethics as an interface for using technology?

Arif completed his bachelor's degree in literary theory, conflict studies and communication science, and afterwards, earned his master's degree in conflict resolution and governance and political science at the University of Amsterdam. For his graduate thesis, he conducted research on humanitarian organisations that use surveillance technology and the resulting data as evidence of human rights violations. But after being published, this data is still difficult to verify. In addition, there's the question of the role of technology as an 'objective transmitter'. Evidence often only has meaning once someone constructs a corresponding narrative.

As a teacher at the designLAB department of the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam, Arif Kornweitz translated his current research into lessons about objects without clear boundaries, and the fluid notion of objects. In addition, he gave several performance lectures as an expression of his research, for example about the phenomenon of 'function creep', in which data is used for purposes other than what was originally intended, or when the function of a technological object is inadvertently expanded. The methods used by humanitarian organisations and the data they collect are both susceptible to function creep.

Text: Manique Hendricks
Arvid & Marie

Arvid & Marie

Despite the fact that humanity gratefully uses technological developments, at the same time, we're also often critical of them. There's much talk about the struggle between man and machine: consider, for example, our current discussions about artificial intelligence. At their eponymous design studio, Arvid & Marie are focusing on his complex relationship between people and technology, combining technical expertise with critical thinking. Convinced that there will eventually be a highly sophisticated form of artificial intelligence, they're turning their attention to collaboration, rather than speculating about who will dominate.

As human beings, we're used to looking at technological advances from only a human perspective. As a result, nearly everything we design is focused on ourselves. Arvid & Marie want to nuance this unbalanced worldview. With this in mind, they develop artistic and alternative concepts to bring the general public into action and encourage them to think more critically. Research on the relationships between people and technology is central to their approach. In many cases, it leads to tangible objects, such their autonomous soft drink machine, called Symbiotic Autonomous Machine (SAM). Without any human intervention, SAM is capable of managing the production process and determining the price of each drink.

Arvid & Marie are currently based in China, were there's clearly a different view on technology. In general, Asians are much more receptive to technologic developments. In cooperation with a Chinese partner, they're developing a massage chair equipped with artificial intelligence and expressive capabilities, called the 'Full Body Smart Automatic Manipulator'.

Especially if they're developing interactive machines, the power of expression can't be lacking. That's why the use of sound is very important for their projects – it's the means to give shape to the emotional charge of interactivity. The 'voice' of the machine is essential for the ultimate experience! According to the two designers, 'We're working on a wide range of projects, but we often return to sound. The implementation of sound in our technological designs is something that we frequently do for long-term projects. In the shorter term or in the interim, we can present our research in a musical way – kind of like informative concerts. Under the name Omninaut, we're compiling an album based on (video) recordings, together with a diverse group of artists.'

In addition to designing, Arvid & Marie want to make the ongoing debate surrounding artificial intelligence more democratic. At the moment, the development of artificial intelligence is still primarily the domain of larger tech companies. They explain, 'If real artificial intelligence is created, there are so many related ethical concerns that we should be deciding on together, instead of it happening behind closed doors, far away from the general public. Everyone should be able to contribute! On one hand, we're embracing progress, and on the other hand, we're scared that technology will end up controlling us. Why should we assume that? Let's give the machines a chance to “get to know” us, and vice versa. It could allow people and technology to find a way to co-exist, and could provide the basis for a kind of social contract for further developments.'

Arvid & Marie also characterise their work as 'design for non-humans'. Because of their design background, they are used to using tools to design different objects. At design studio Arvid & Marie, they rely on technology as the 'tool' to question, understand and shape the society of tomorrow.

Text: Giovanni Burke
Atelier Tomas Dirrix

Atelier Tomas Dirrix

When comes to contemporary architecture, Tomas Dirrix noticed that very little attention is paid to the experience of the building itself – it's mainly about square meters and profits. With his work, he's investigating ways to change that. He says, 'At first glance, a building is mainly about providing shelter, but it's also an expression of tradition, culture and environment. When you look at today's buildings, you see that the latter values are lacking, because they're constructed in such a generic way. Anyone could live there; I miss the personal aspect!'

Tomas bases his work on contradictions which he uses to develop his design methodology. For example, he juxtaposes outdoor space and indoor space, because in addition to shelter, the function of a building is to mark that transition. But what did that relationship traditionally mean, and what does it mean today? It doesn't always have to be about enhancing the contrast, Tomas explains, but can also be about giving more depth to how we typify the relationship between these two extremes.

'What I design doesn't need to be functional architecture. It's more like an exploration of what architecture could be. The development of this 'new architecture' isn't limited to considering the aforementioned contradictions, but is also driven by the emergence of new kinds of building materials. What does it mean for the shape and possibilities of future buildings?'

Using this approach, Tomas makes a series of models, ranging from a multifunctional wall (with a built-in table) to a gigantic balloon that can stretch across a festival stage. You can see the latter as architecture, as well as an art project. He often alternates between experimental projects and more commercial assignments. Here too, he tries to emphasize the value of the design. His intrinsic motivation lies in the fact that the models or spaces he designs can encourage a wider audience to think about what new forms of architecture might look like.

Because it takes so much expertise to construct a building, for architects, collaboration is inevitable. As soon as you start talking about materials, you need craftspeople, because they have more knowledge about the products and how to use them. But you can also use collaborations like these to make progress at a smaller, more experimental scale, says Tomas. This will allow you to take larger steps forward and challenge each other.

One of the most important drivers for Tomas Dirrix is to make people more aware of the magic! He sums it up by saying, 'We should have a sense of wonder about the world we live in, seeing the ordinary as strange, or the other way around. It would be nice if we could once again appreciate the experience of a building.'

Text: Giovanni Burke
Bastiaan de Nennie
Bastiaan de Nennie

Bastiaan de Nennie

Nowadays, contact takes place mainly via digital means and the boundaries between the digital and the physical seem to be getting increasingly blurred. In addition, we are inundated with information and images, but also with a multitude of products. It is precisely this information that Bastiaan de Nennie works with in his artistic practice. As a child, he learned how to use Photoshop at primary school and this led to a fascination for computers, coding language and printed circuit boards. In 2015, he graduated from the Man and Motion programme at the Design Academy in Eindhoven.

In his work, Bastiaan gives existing products a new function by merging them to create a new object or sculpture. He makes 3D scans of objects or parts of objects, which he then adds to an already extensive digital database. This is the source from which he draws to generate new objects that he breathes life into with a 3D printer. Like a reaction to an action, he puts things in the computer and then extracts new things from it. From physical to digital to physical.

Where most colleagues start with an idea or concept, Bastiaan de Nennie starts with a product that he scrutinizes and translates into an idea. His signature is characterized by bright colours and repetitive forms that recur in different ways, such as the spinning wheel of a mincing machine, or a 3D scan of his own feet. Some shapes are clearly recognisable, while others are completely abstracted in neon colours. Physical objects are always both the starting and the end point. In between, various, often digital, adjustments are made on the basis of personal intuition. Craftsmanship and the use and addition of more traditional materials such as clay also find their way into this process.

As a boundless thinker and passionate designer, De Nennie is immensely interested in applying new technology or techniques within his practice, for which he coined the term 'phygital', a combination of physical and digital. As he puts it himself, he wants to stand with 'one leg in the present' with his 'other leg in the future'. His aims are to professionalize and work on his online presentation, as well as enter into new collaborations. Ultimately, he would also like to recycle his own work, for example by melting old existing sculptures or products to create a new work.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Daria Kiseleva

Daria Kiseleva

Daria Kiseleva loves to run or walk as ways to relax, but is constantly on the look-out for new visions. 'I have a lot of tabs open'. Hailing from St Petersburg with a background in graphic design, she graduated from Werkplaats Typografie in Arnhem in 2014, and was a researcher at the Jan Van Eyck Academy in 2015-16. Daria's practice revolves around researching and creating new narratives with found and original material. Her work hovers somewhere between design, art, pop culture and technology. She explores the moving image as a communication tool towards a format for visual culture. She mainly creates digital essays and films, focusing on the evolution of digital image technology and tracing it back to its first applications in early space exploration, scientific experiments and cinema. Her inspiration comes from sci-fi scenarios and observation of how technologies move through different contexts (think for example: from the military to the consumer world). She uses these references in her work, which deals with forecasting and a future – but already happening now – dystopia.

'It has become impossible to understand reality without understanding contemporary technology, especially imaging techniques, as they play a big part in constituting reality itself. For instance, how algorithms are used to forecast who is more likely to become a criminal. Or how can a computer notice the difference between fighting and hugging. Or what is 'normal' and what not. And how these 'facts' are used as a ground to colonize and manipulate.' 'For me it's not about paranoia, but uncovering hidden structures. I see myself as a 'visual anthropologist', Daria explains. An excerpt from Field of Vision, Daria's latest digital essay: 'In contemporary reality of abundance of images and signals that are being constantly generated, the concept of vision and the degree of visibility become ever more relevant. […] I am interested in juxtaposing the two meanings of the word 'vision', as in the 'power of seeing' and the 'power of anticipating what will or may come to be” in relation to computer vision (and other related technologies), through a prism of the everlasting dichotomy of human and machine, natural and artificial.'

Daria Kiseleva mostly works with the mediums of film, critical writing, printed and web publications. 'Even if I'm interested in the various formats of digital culture, I have a real fondness for printed matter.' Together with graphic design duo Mevis & Van Deursen she worked on catalogues, posters and signage for artists and institutions, like Documenta 14 in Kassel and Museum Krefeld. Currently she is a research member at the 'The Shock Forest Group' with Nicolás Jaar, as part of the 2d chapter at Het Hem. 'I believe it is our responsibility, as makers, users and unwillingly unpaid labourers, to study, expose, hack and play with mechanisms of production, representation and consumption to expose their hidden mechanisms.'


Text: Jessica Gysel
Darien Brito

Darien Brito

Darien Brito came to the Netherlands as a classical violin player to study at the Royal Conservatoire in Den Haag, where he received degrees in composition and sonology, a broader approach to artistic sound, with a focus on electronic and digital tools. For him, computers and synthesisers were a source of liberation from the challenges, as a composer, to actually have his pieces performed by musicians in public. Still focusing on composition, his interests shifted to programmable devices, open-ended aesthetics, and structures of sound. He approached electronic music and coding largely as an autodidact, with an eclectic set of references including Bach, late-20th-century spectralism, and today's underground electronic music scene.

Darien first encountered algorithms in his exploration of generative systems for composition, but he did not see them simply as convenient tools for creative output. His desire to understand how they functioned led him from sound to visual graphics, where the patterns created by each algorithm were easier to analyse. Eventually, his parallel experimentation in both media came together in the form of generative audiovisual works, less as finished compositions than as immersive live performances. But it also drew him deeper into the field of coding and computer algorithms. He was increasingly preoccupied with the technology 'behind the scenes', the cultural impact of artificial intelligence, and the questions it raised for contemporary society more broadly.

In that vein, Darien's recent work has investigated machine learning (ML). The topic of ML is viewed today with mixed fascination and fear, as it permeates through our social infrastructure from facial recognition and song recommendations to hiring processes and policing. It also is the basis for fantastic, if unlikely speculations about sentience and creativity in machines. However, there is an enormous vacuum of knowledge about how ML works among the people who are affected by it in innumerable ways every day. Over time, Darien Brito's motivations have become more pedagogical. He does not want to show the end product of a learning process. He wants to show instead how the computer learns.

But to do so, he needed to teach himself how to write an ML algorithm from scratch, and to become familiar with advanced mathematical formulas. He began with a classifier, which determines if an input belongs to a certain class or not, and trained it using a dataset that he also made himself. The outcome is a library of ML algorithms for the software Touch Designer. Darien also shares his hard-earned, applied knowledge through tutorials, with the ultimate goal of empowering digital users to better grasp the technology available to them, and to use their critical and ethical judgment.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Elvis Wesley

Elvis Wesley

He has a long blond fringe, which falls smoothly over the upper half of his face and under which his nose just peeps out. A broad smile from ear to ear and a pointed chin. His skin, teeth and hair are green, yellow, pink, blue and purple. This fictional character, named Elvis Wesley, is the mysterious alter ego of designer Wesley de Boer. After completing his Art & Design studies at the Graphic Lyceum in Rotterdam in 2016, De Boer went on to study at the Design Academy in Eindhoven, in the Man and Identity programme. During his graduation in 2017, Elvis Wesley took actual shape in 'The Birth of Elvis Wesley', a surrealistic animation film set in another cosmos full of colour and intertwining forms. De Boer made use of VR casting techniques, providing an interesting insight into the endless possibilities of 3D modelling software.

As a child, Wesley de Boer often sat in front of the television for hours on end and preferred to watch cartoons. While he was being sucked into the TV, he fantasized about the possibilities of the endless, colourful worlds in which the cartoons take place, and he built sets with home-made puppets and action figures to mimic these non-existent environments. The born Rotterdammer still finds inspiration for his current practice in cartoon-like figures and environments and the creation of new worlds outside the existing reality. In addition, social media is a source of inspiration for him and he is particularly interested in the online representation and expression of identity.

With Studio Elvis Wesley, De Boer builds a personal and recognizable form language – characterized by bright colours and remarkable, often artificial forms – and at the same time he refers to pop culture and fictional characters and their representation. De Boer sees his work as a cross-pollination of different techniques and disciplines in which Elvis represents the connecting factor. De Boer not only produces a great deal of free work with Studio Elvis Wesley, but also carries out many commissions for various clients, ranging from festivals to museums. These commissions are expressed in various media including animation, sculpture and photo campaigns, but also products such as lamps and wallpaper.

Thanks to the Fund, Wesley de Boer is building the world in which Elvis Wesley operates, project by project. He would very much like to extend the living environment of his alter ego to become an immersive experience where everyone can feel what it's like to be Elvis Wesley for a moment. Between tropical flowers that appear to be made of red, purple, yellow and green tubes of light, brightly coloured monster trucks thunder past cities that are made up of dark cubes with fluorescent patterns and are inhabited by flying drones. In this wonderful place between fantasy and reality, visual art and design merge and boundaries between animation, installation, object and the digital are blurred.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Gino Anthonisse

Gino Anthonisse

The fact that Gino Anthonisse tries – as he himself puts it – 'reasonably consciously not to follow the traditional fashion path' is an understatement. He graduated in 2014 as a fashion designer from the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague and was immediately asked to become the fourth person to join Das Leben am Haverkamp, the artists' collective based in The Hague consisting of Anouk van Klaveren, Christa van der Meer and Dewi Bekker. They graduated a year earlier.

For Gino, it felt like landing in a warm bath. 'We share the same ideas, and although we operate as a collective, the collective itself does not have a fixed profile and is effectively the sum of our individual practices. The four do share a workspace and also take on larger projects together in order to fulfil their common passion: exploring what fashion can be, more than just designing the wearable garment.

They started out on the traditional path: a first collection, a showroom in Paris twice, and two shows during Amsterdam Fashion Week. But the fashion circuit didn't really appeal so much: 'too many designers, too many collections, too many clothes'. During one of the showrooms, the collective organized a subsequent exhibition and was so satisfied with it that they decided to explore the more autonomous side of fashion in greater depth. For Gino, this meant working in 2D, 'working from collages, uncompromising in form', and then translating it into three dimensions and searching for relevant links between fashion and body.

In 2017, Das Leben am Haverkamp carried out an intervention at the Zeeuws Museum in Middelburg. The reason for this was a makeover of the fashion spaces and the question of how a new generation of visitors to the museum looks at centuries-old objects that they have often never seen before. Das Leben am Haverkamp developed a new series of objects: clothing, but also accessories and utilitarian items. As a starting point, they took 40 objects from the collection that were randomly selected on the basis of a list. Every tenth visitor was given the task of describing the objects, without explicitly mentioning what the objects actually were. The collective then created the 40 pieces, based on these descriptions, without actually having seen the original objects. The result was a large curiosity cabinet consisting of turquoise, red, yellow or pink objects – each designer had their own colour – such as an oversized fisherman's coat, a totem, a mask and a turquoise baby covered in golden balls. It also generated a colourful book with essays, documentation of the show and, in particular, numerous process images.

In his work, Gino Anthonisse is constantly in search of wonder, always from a different angle. At the moment, he is working a great deal with materials that are new to him, such as plaster, foam and ceramics, with the intention of inspiring viewers to come up with new ideas, to raise questions, and just to make the public think at all. In addition, he works one-and-a-half days a week at the art academy in The Hague, where he is an instructor at the textile and fashion workshop. 'I'm not a teacher, I don't assess students but I help them, and that's a good position for me.'

Text: Jessica Gysel
Irene Stracuzzi

Irene Stracuzzi

As a graphic designer Irene Stracuzzi is fascinated by cartography. Her practice looks at the effect of technical, aesthetic, and logistical design choices on larger political, environmental, and social phenomena. She has noted the contradiction between the purportedly objective and detail-oriented process for designing maps and the forcefully political use of maps for single-minded purposes. By materialising collected cartographic data in a representational medium, designers equip powerful or institutional agents with concrete tools to support their rhetorical claims. The designer thus plays an instrumental role in territorial negotiations.

After graduating from the Design Academy Eindhoven's Information Design master's programme, she continued her personal practice along the course established by her thesis project, 'The Legal Status of Ice'. Beginning from the theme of international borders in the Arctic Ocean, her project grew to encompass a range of themes from legal frameworks, data collection, border politics, natural resources, and climate change. Due to the transdisciplinary relevance of her research, she has been invited to take part in a variety of exhibitions, from 'Broken Nature' at the Triennale di Milano to 'GEO–DESIGN: Alibaba' at the Van Abbemuseum.

Irene approaches her interests through a rigorous research process that involves historical, scientific, statistical, and technological investigations and a strong ethics about the responsible use of data sets. In her explorations, she often intersects with researchers who deal with critical information as non-designers. She sees great potential in collaboration with scientists and experts from other fields, especially where their urgent observations go unnoticed because they are poorly visualised or not visualised at all. In particular, she is focused on the climate crisis due to the misinformation and lack of understanding of the general public when confronted with conflicting theories, politicised legislation, isolated data points, and anecdotal experience. 'Our inability to collectively envision climate change as a systematic global phenomenon, rather than a series of isolated local events, may account for our general inaction or denial of our influence on the environment—and design could be a key framework for mobilisation.'

At the same time, Irene is highly conscientious of the designer's role in mediating data in tangible images or objects. Single data points or data sets have little meaning until they are layered with other kinds of data, and the content and aesthetic choices made in generating composite data visualisations have enormous repercussions on the interpretation of the viewer. In fact, her Arctic Ocean research indicates that maps themselves made borders possible. Her practice confronts both highly technical GIS software and subjective image-making, as in the gigantic inflated globe she made for 'GEO—DESIGN', with bright orange oceans and flipped orientation, with the South Pole on top. Irene Stracuzzi reveals the unacknowledged influence of the designer in the world order, as well as the need for a careful and informed approach to data.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Job van den Berg

Job van den Berg

Job van den Berg has a fascination for industrial manufacturing processes. His passion for this was aroused by a fairly common object: chairs. He is also known in his circle of friends as the 'chairman'. With more than a hundred items, his collection is literally bursting at the seams, forcing him to leave certain items with his friends.

Every day he goes to work in his studio, which is full of cupboards, rough industrial material, glass bastions and of course chairs. Here, Job develops various objects that are located at the interface between industry and art. 'I'm always looking for an industrial find, something that can make a major impact. If I develop a new technique that gives the production of, for example, a piece of furniture more possibilities or more value can be attached to it, then I'm in my element.'

In addition to work that is more focused on art, Job also concentrates on producing for a somewhat larger audience. For example, he designed a wooden cabinet that he had pressed into steel, a fusion of industrial and natural materials. This process increases the decorative value and also the durability. The project, called 'Metal Skin Cabinet', inspired Job to start a new project in which he presses toy cars into an aluminium plate the size of a postcard. Through these and other collaborations with manufacturers, labels and galleries, he wishes to share his work more and more with the wider public in the future.

His projects are interlinked and develop as part of a larger organic and creative process. He does not only want to develop as a creative maker and 'brand'; Job also wants to follow a 10-day 'silent retreat' meditation course to learn how to channel his energy better. 'My own development is central this year, and I am enjoying learning new meditation techniques to achieve the right focus for my projects. But I really don't have to go all the way to the Far East for that', says Job with a grin.

Asked about his ultimate goal as a creative maker, Job van den Berg indicates that this goal will gradually shift, but that he wants to focus on design that inspires and is remembered by people. 'I really do value the appreciation and freedom you enjoy as a well-known designer, but the impact of your work is nonetheless worth more valuable than fame.'


Text: Giovanni Burke
Johanna Ehde

Johanna Ehde

Johanna Ehde might be working in the world of ego-bursting, male dominated, market-driven and self-centred graphic design, at the core of her business, in all senses of the word, lies a deep and inherent love for feminism. Not feminism in the current fashion sense, but as a lived-through, daily practiced and most of all lifelong nurturing support structure.

Johanna graduated in 2016 from the Graphic Design bachelor at the Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam with 'Lady Taxi', a project about a free of charge cab service for mainly elderly ladies. Inspired by Chantal Akerman's iconic 'Jeanne Dielemans' movie and its portrayal of a woman's limited space in our society, Lady Taxi became the informal starting point of her ongoing project '(Post-) Menopausal Graphic Design Strategies'. This project is dealing with the challenge to gain practical knowledge into how to develop and maintain a life-long graphic design practice while considering the issues of ageism, sexism and women's health. Life-long referring not only to lasting a full working life, but also to healthy, stimulating and safe working conditions. Some titles on the project's website speak for themselves: 'The Woman Destroyed', 'They Will Never Sell Vaginal Dryness', 'All that is left is the killing of time', 'Legacy in Typography'.

As collaboration is a crucial part of a feminist design practice, Johanna also works together with Elisabeth Rafstedt, under the name Rietlanden Women's Office. In this collaboration reading, writing and publishing together is a practice done two days per week. 'We want to work constructively and with lust in our work. Our focus is really on the texts we publish. We try to go deep into a text, read it over and over, and design through that reading'. In relation to their most recent issue of 'MsHeresies', they have been discussing topics such as social media activism, commodified feminism and the importance of looking towards history when questioning hegemonic structures. So far two issues were published, both investigating the topic of work and the possibilities of collaboration from a feminist perspective.

Johanna also has a weak spot for typography and fonts. 'I am trying to have a reckless approach towards type. This in an attempt at trying to redefine the idea of legacy in typography. Legacy referring to both the gendered (extremely male dominated) history and current state of type design, its concepts of divinity and harmony, as well as the physical aspects, which historically would imply hard labour in type foundries (with the likeliness of getting lead poisoning). Today one could consider the very real issue of working, or decaying, in front of a computer screen.'

Underneath of this all lays a manifesto-ish approach towards building a new design ethos. But in a recent interview, Rietlanden Women's Office problematise the easily commodified format of a manifesto: 'A point or statement from a manifesto is perfect for the social media version of activism (…) something we have come to see more and more as a problem. A text written today is old tomorrow—or even in a few seconds—in a busy, scrolling feed. This progress, this speed of things, is connected to consumerism and economic growth, and that goes for texts and images, too! But, in fact, we might even be going backwards—or in circles—as far as feminist 'progress' goes.'

Johanna confesses she's part of this work rat race as well, and is working and stressing too much. It seems symptomatic of this current system. Although she notices some forced progression. Recently she started to take a rest in the middle of the day. She thinks a rest can be very radical.

Text: Jessica Gysel
Jung-Lee Type Foundry

Jung-Lee Type Foundry

Type design is more than a craft, a technology, or a profession for Jungmyung Lee. It is deeply linked to how we express, interpret, and experience emotions. Her typefaces are designed as visual forms with a specific context: for example, fonts related to babies tend to have rounded shapes rather than spiky ones. But Jungmyung looks beyond the visual tropes of pop culture or branding. She perceives a typeface as a fully-fledged personality with a complex narrative, which she often explores through creative fiction. The combination of her deep focus on type design and her multidisciplinary practice, including writing, publishing, performance, and music, reflects her education, which began with industrial design in Seoul, specialised in graphic design at Aalto University in Helsinki, and honed skills and knowledge at Werkplaats Typografie in ArtEZ.

Jungmyung explores the aesthetics of emotion in 'Real-Time Realist', a self-initiated publication co-edited with Charlie Clemoes that draws connections between graphic designers, artists, and writers in relation to a single emotion in each issue. The idea for the publication arose when Jungmyung and Charlie, both artists in residence at WOW Amsterdam, started to discuss the emotional spectrum and the diagrammatical schema of various theorists, such as Robert Plutchik's wheel of eight primary emotions in different intensities and combinations. The first issue explored the branch going from amazement through surprise to distraction, while the next will take on ecstasy, joy, and serenity.

The magazine is a forum for Jungmyung to explore aspects of her design methodology and critical perspective that cannot be channeled into her professional career. In particular, she uses it to contextualise the meaning of her typefaces in noncommercial modes, and to offer others the chance to engage with her designs freely. The mainstream design discourse tends to acknowledge typography only in relation to branding, quoting vague claims about modern values and aesthetics. In contrast, Real-Time Realist fosters slow, contemplative, and dreamlike reflections on the typeface as a narrative voice.

It also allows Jungmyung to experiment with new ways of making, however imprecise or obscure. Eight years ago, she learned type design as a fixed sequence: first painting letters one by one with brushes, then scanning them, vectorising them, and refining the final geometry digitally. This standardised process seemed to subdue emotion, whereas she is drawn instead to design processes that invite emotional investment—like woodcut, a historical technique that associated the emotions of the craftsman with the letterform they were making. But contemporary digital techniques, typefaces, and interfaces have just as much potential for emotions, although the medium, speed, and physical and virtual social formations associated with computer interaction may encourage different emotions. In an era of constant and maximal communication, Jungmyung Lee's work is oriented towards the user's subconscious and emotional experience of the little-noticed medium of type.


Text: Tamar Shafrir
Knetterijs
Knetterijs

Knetterijs

You're stronger together. That's what the nine, now eight, illustrators at Studio Knetterijs thought when they graduated from the Minerva Academy in Groningen in 2016. In order to bridge the well-known black hole after the academy as a group, they immediately started the collective Knetterijs. By now, Douwe Dijkstra, Jaime Jacob, Jan Hamstra, Kalle Wolters, Maarten Huizing, Megan de Vos, Senne Trip and Tjisse Talsma have set a true trend at the academy, where they themselves still regularly return as guest teachers. In fact, artists and designers graduating from Minerva are increasingly joining forces in a collective form.

At Studio Knetterijs, the aesthetics, techniques, personal interests and ambitions of eight different illustrators come together. Within the collective, everyone has their own expertise and function, ranging from analogue printing techniques, such as risoprint and screen printing, to digital illustration techniques and the maintenance of the Studio Knetterijs webshop. Their underlying contrasts are what makes them into a multiform whole.

Thanks to the Fund, Studio Knetterijs has recently been able to work on three collective projects in the form of a 'zine'. The small publications are the result of an investigation into the possibilities and limits of the medium with a high 'do-it-yourself' level and at the same time an attempt to transcend this. By means of traditional techniques and new technological means, Knetterijs elevated the zine to a new kind of genre, inspired by interaction and a certain degree of playfulness.

'The Rottumereye Tragedy' is a mysterious detective story consisting of a rich file folder containing a variety of small books, prints, a leporello and a poster in different styles on different types of paper that together form the hints to solve the murder on the Wadden island of Rottumeroog. The second zine, called 'The Octagon Pentalogy' is a multidimensional experience consisting of five audio tracks about adventure in space. Every audio track, recorded by American voice actors, is different. By combining the different audio tracks with the printed zine, five different narratives are created. All Studio Knetterijs publications are made by hand and are sold in small editions through their own web shop or at trade fairs. For their most recent project and third zine 'Mushrooms & Magic, an interactive odyssey', Knetterijs is currently working with a programmer who converts layered drawings by the illustrators into a digital interactive zine, in which the reader can influence the course of the story by making choices themselves.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Kostas Lambridis

Kostas Lambridis

Most people know Kostas Lambridis from his infamous 'Elemental Cabinet', which he made for his master's degree in Contextual Design from the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2017. The cabinet is a reinvention of the famous 'Badminton Cabinet', built in the Florentine period by 30 craftsmen and finished in 1730 after 6 years of labour. Kostas finished his with 2 hands (his own) in 3 months. The cabinet is exemplary for his way of working. 'I don't like to design; I like to take an existing form or find a form I like. I don't want to be a designer-expert. For me it's all about working without fear. Embracing naivety, ignoring the perceived ideas about beauty. It's about being free and staying young in the making'.

Born and raised in Athens, Kostas studied engineering on the Greek island of Syros, at the only design school in Greece. Getting a base in mostly theory, he decided to get a more creative and practical formation by doing an internship at designer Nacho Carbonell in Eindhoven. 'Design in Greece is very different than in the Netherlands'. He liked it so much, that he stayed for over seven years, while taking up his master studies at the Design Academy. During his first semester tutor Maarten Baas give an assignment to design a lamp. 'I asked myself, what is a lamp? A lamp is a light bulb. It's glass and metal from stone. I combined the different materials, to create a lightbulb.'

He cites Robert Rauschenberg as a big inspiration, especially how he approached material from a conceptual point of view; thinking about the artistic humility of material. 'Anything can function as material. Once you embrace this principle, the possibilities are endless.' He implements material on two equally important axes: the primitive and the high-tech. This idea is very present in all his crea-tions, where he combines old and new production techniques; a mixture of valuable and valueless materials such as bronze, ceramics, embroidery but also melted old plastic chairs. 'At the basis of it all lays the idea of a non-hierarchy in material. It all comes from the earth. Gold is more precious than mud, but for the planet it's the same. The concept of value is a human construction.'

At the moment, he's working with the Carpenters Workshop Gallery on a couple of new projects. He already made a daybed ('Her') and a chandelier ('Jupiter') and is currently developing a low table and a bookshelf. 'I started making objects by the end, I'm scaling things down now, arriving to more easy pieces. But process is equally difficult. I'm trying to include more modern periods, and keep the ma-terials in a certain logic'.

He's currently moving back to Athens, to be closer with his family. 'I'm starting the second beginning of my professional life, and hope I can create the same feeling of community that I experienced in Eindhoven.' His cites his father as his biggest inspiration. 'He was a maker; he had a very special way of doing things. It's in my DNA. When you're a good maker, you cook good, you clean good, you put attention to detail, that's crucial to me.'

Asked if he ever takes time off he cites one of his tutors, artist Gijs Assman who said you have to keep living your life while trying to work. So in the weekends he goes sailing, one of the perks of be-ing back in Greece.

Text: Jessica Gysel
Lena Knappers

Lena Knappers

As an urban planner, Lena Knappers is interested in big-city issues that require an integrated approach. That's why migration is at the heart of her research and design project. She says, 'If you look at the way migrants are being housed, you see that there's no urban strategy behind it. The status that migrants enter our country with – such as asylum-seeker, economic migrant or international student – largely determines what their spatial living conditions are like.' In addition to Dutch policy on migration, Lena is also focused on the policy at a European level. The reason behind this was a stay in Istanbul at a time when many Syrian migrants were entering Turkey. In the same year, the Netherlands apparently only admitted sixty migrants.

'Rethinking the Absorption Capacity of Urban Space', her final project for her master's in Urbanism at TU Delft, contains advanced strategies for sustainably integrating migrants into the host country's society. 'Migration is often perceived as a temporary phenomenon. It's handled with short-term container housing, located outside the city centre. There's a lack of policy regarding sustainable accommodation. But mixing these vulnerable groups with the existing population is of huge importance', Lena explains. For her thesis, she investigated alternative, more inclusive forms of housing, which focused on the use of public space. The Overamstel prison complex, known colloquially as the ''Bijlmerbajes', is a good example of this, and was a suitable location for implementing the spatial interventions that Lena had developed. From August 2016 to February 2018, the former prison served as a reception centre for thousands of asylum seekers. Next to the Bijlmerbajes, there was a shipping container village for international students. They shared the same living space, yet the two groups lived completely separately from each other.

The strategies and spatial interventions she has developed could also be rolled out in other locations in Europe, such as Athens. Lena has visited the Greek city, which is also dealing with migration issues, several times. She wants to bring these problems to the surface through in-depth interviews with a variety of migrants and Greeks. Using the information gathered during this process, she will then focus on suitable design solutions. Once her ongoing research in Athens is finished, she plans to collect her findings in a book.

The ideal inclusive city is something that Lena Knappers will continue to sink her teeth into for the time being. She's not only interested in the topic of migration, but also the use of public space and the persistent inequality that seems to go along with it. Because she also works part time, and collaborates with municipalities, housing associations and organisations like the COA (Central Agency for the Reception of Asylum Seekers) as part of her job, there are plenty of shared interests and opportunities to continue her research. She says, 'In The Hague, I'm working on large, complex projects with many different stakeholders and interests. These projects require time and coordination, but at the same time, they teach you to look at things from different perspectives. When I'm working on my own research and design project, I have complete freedom and can use my imagination to reveal creative alternatives.'

Text: Giovanni Burke
Manetta Berends

Manetta Berends

Manetta Berends believes that craftsmanship and ethics are essential to design, and no less for digital design and online communities than for more traditional physical media. After studying graphic design at ArtEZ and media design at Piet Zwart Institute, she joined a larger group of individuals to set up 'varia', a Rotterdam-based space exploring new methods of collectivity with a focus on technology.

For Berends, varia has offered a testing ground to implement her design philosophy, which involves using only free, libre and open source software (FLOSS) and independent digital infrastructures that do not profit from their users, collect their data, enforce protective copyright, or make their code inaccessible. Over time, varia has evolved to host its own server and communication and organisation system, including chat program and communal calendar. On their website, they offer their free software, store project documents for collaborators as well as outside viewers, and write posts sharing the technical and conceptual knowledge they have acquired in the process. They also publish their notes from live workshops, meetings, or conferences using etherpad, a real-time collaborative editor.

One of varia's five members with managerial responsibilities, Manetta develops her ideas about what a graphic design practice and collaborative working practice could be today. As in the craft guilds of centuries past, the outcome of the design process is just one element of a larger culture, which also encompasses tool-making, social inclusivity, acquiring knowledge hands-on, and sharing knowledge with peers. This broad approach is fostered at varia through open events like 'Relearn', a collective learning experiment and summer school where teachers and students come together as equals. In this way, Manetta believes that professional practice can sustain the curiosity, energy, and enjoyment experienced in design education.

These qualities resonate throughout her personal work as well. Her cyber/technofeminist cross-reader, part of the 2019 exhibition Computer Grrrls at la Gaîté Lyrique in Paris and MU in Eindhoven, is a collection of manifestos in which technology and feminism are intertwined, spanning from 1912 to the present. At the same time, it is also a tool that identifies the linguistic connections between the manifestos, using the TF-IDF (Term Frequency Inverse Document Frequency) algorithm, and allows users to read across multiple manifestos at once by extracting quotes featuring the same word. The cross-reader also includes a detailed explanation of how the algorithm works, using terminology that non-coders can understand. Finally, it explores the language of manifestos, revealing the importance of communication in movements for societal change. Manetta Berends models a design practice in which critical thinking, activism, and social accountability underscore every facet from aesthetic choices to pragmatic obligations.
Mirte van Duppen

Mirte van Duppen

In her practice, Mirte van Duppen models a new understanding of the role a graphic designer can perform in today's society. During her studies in graphic design at ArtEZ and Sandberg's Design department, she cultivated an interest in collective environments. How do individuals perceive and behave within them? What does freedom mean in public squares in the Netherlands? What is the meaning of transparency in modern buildings?

Mirte is particularly preoccupied with the Dutch landscape, at various scales, and the ways in which it has been shaped by politicians, industrialists, and architects, as well as eccentric individuals with a captivating vision. Her film 'The Dutch Mountain', for instance, departs from Dutch cyclist Thijs Zonneveld's dream to build a 2,000-metre-high mountain in the Netherlands, and imagines it in concrete detail through seamlessly edited footage from different locations in the Dutch landscape. A voiceover describes the mountain as a 'fait accompli', quoting expert scientists that she consulted about the environmental implications of the project. Through split screen composition, she confronts idealistic visions with banal necessities, like bike lanes or pedestrian paths, and overt artifice, like zoos or amusement parks.

In her research, Mirte contemplates the tension between humanity's power to sculpt the terrain to its will, on one hand, and its affinity for romantic or technoutopian concepts of nature, on the other. 'Territory of the Beings', a recent commission from KAAN Architecten, could be described as a nature documentary about the modern office worker in their open-plan habitat. Her film analyses the strategies (both surreal and cynical) used in contemporary architecture to foster impressions of freedom, wellbeing, and personal space in their human occupants. At the same time, it borrows the aesthetics of architectural photography to emphasise the challenge of adjusting to the airbrushed, optimised utopia of the modern workplace.

Her latest project, meanwhile, takes on the working landscape of industrial agriculture in the Netherlands. Interviewing farmers, she is rethinking the iconography of futurism in light of the anecdotes she has collected, including machine hacking, flower high-rises, artificial lighting, and robot gardeners and asparagus growers. While she embraces fiction and poetic license as creative tools, Mirte van Duppen is still conscious of her rhetorical influence as a designer and editor. She seeks out the individuals with direct knowledge about urgent topics and gives space to their perspectives, which often have little resemblance to the grotesque fantasies popularised in the mainstream media. She is equally critical towards humanity's hubristic manipulation of nature as towards fatalistic or alarmist narratives as dramatic devices, and reveals the complete technological saturation of every element of our society, no matter how "natural" it may appear. Her practice aims to inspire fascination, contemplation, and informed action in her audience.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Munoz Munoz

Munoz Munoz

Lucas Muñoz Muñoz already had an established practice as a product designer when he came across, by chance, what would become his creative obsession. A few years after graduating from the Design Academy Eindhoven with a master's in Contextual Design, he went to Thailand to visit a former classmate. Hearing about a rocket festival in a village in Isan, they were determined to see it in person. The tradition had developed over centuries, possibly influenced by migration from present-day China carrying knowledge about gunpowder. The rockets are built by Buddhist monks from bamboo and (more recently) PVC pipes; the largest are eight metres long, contain 120 kilograms of gunpowder, and reach altitudes of up to eight kilometres. During the month-long festival, about 500 rockets are launched, even causing annual diversions in airplane traffic.

Lucas and his friend were not visiting simply as spectators. They wanted to engage with the monks as craftsmen, and spent two months living alongside them and learning how to make rockets. Meanwhile, they were joined by a few curious filmmakers, and spontaneously the idea arose to make a documentary - something none of them had done before. They began to collect footage, taking a wide view on the rocket's role as an instigator of temporary social liberties, as well as a symbol of the farmers' dependency and vulnerability in relation to the yearly monsoon. They also followed another tangent into the oral history surrounding the village's main Buddhist abbot, recently deceased, who was famed for his powers in black magic.

For Lucas, the rocket is an object that cuts through seemingly distant cultures, topics, and histories. A rocket carrying a nuclear bomb could destroy the world, but a rocket could also save humans from extinction by carrying them to another planet. Essentially a flying cylinder propelled by a chemical reaction, this single object is the vehicle for a multiplicity of technological dreams, cultural beliefs, political conflicts, and existential fears. This diversity of meanings forms the basis for a series of documentary films, each chapter investigating a particular typology situated in a complex social context.

For example, Lucas explored the rocket as a weapon in Lebanon, collaborating with NGOs that work with refugee communities displaced from their homes by missiles and other tools of destruction. To approach the subject sensitively, Lucas took a more associative approach using personal narrative. He asked Syrian and Palestinian children to describe their memories of their old homes, and then reconstructed each memory through found archival footage, reflecting on the possibilities and paradoxes of cross-cultural empathy. In another chapter, he interviews doctoral researchers in Newcastle University to examine the rocket as a catalyst for debates about space law, colonisation and mining. While Lucas Muñoz Muñoz still works as a maker, he is also eager to challenge the expectations of how objects inspire and emerge from creative processes, and how research manifests in design practice.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
NINAMOUNAH

NINAMOUNAH

There's a feeling of concentrated commotion at Ninamounah Langestraat's studio in the middle of Amsterdam's Jordaan neighbourhood. She graduated from the Rietveld Academie just a couple years ago, and is now working in close partnership with her brand manager Robin Burggraaf, and a diverse collection of employees. Her studio is bursting at the seams, so Ninamounah is considering moving the whole company to Zaandam, saying, 'it's more affordable there, and there's also more space'. She's more interested in finding a community than an incubator, and fantasizes about having her own place on the Nieuwe Meer in Amsterdam, where a close-knit artist's colony already resides.

That's not too surprising for someone who grew up in Ruigoord, the free-spirited community outside Amsterdam that her grandparents helped found. She shares, 'My grandmother was one of the pivotal figures of Pink Monday, and I still wear her earring', a silver piece made up of three interlocking feminist symbols.

So far, she's created five collections, with names like '001 Mothers Nature is a Slut ', '002 Smell my Pheromones' and '004 Evolve Around Me'. The collections each have their own number, because Ninamounah deliberately decided not to work with the traditional fashion seasons. She's also made a few films, and her second, 'Hormones are my Master' has been nominated for several (fashion) film festivals.

She's currently working on a book and exhibition with Amsterdam-based photographer Paul Kooiker, and created a perfume with artist Anna Gray. She says, 'I like scents that serve as a warning to alert you that something is wrong, but are very attractive at the same time.' Ninamounah has a background in biology, and did a course on taxidermy while training to be a park ranger. After that, she ended up at the Rietveld Academie, first studying textiles, and eventually fashion. She often got into debates with her professors, but laughs and says that ultimately, it all worked out. She still occasionally does taxidermy – mostly dogs or cats from her friends. She still has quite a few in the freezer, but at the moment, is short on time.

As a child, Ninamounah and her parents survived a plane crash in Faro; they were planning to move to permanently to Portugal. She doesn't have any memory of it. After that, her mother took her on a trip around the world, which was of course formative for her. She's a survivor, and she likes strong personalities, a detail which is evident throughout her work. The collections may be different, but she often works with a mother pattern that helps shape their dominant character. A number of key pieces, such as the iconic body blazer and the fitted chaps fall into that category. These pieces return in every collection, albeit in a slightly different form. She thinks it's important to include both expensive as well as affordable items in every collection, but there isn't any over-simplified merchandise. She explains, 'Our merchandise is an integral part of the collection – it's not just a simple thing with a logo on it. I always include something special, like embroidery or something handmade.' She frequently works with natural materials; the leather is recycled and everything else comes from dead stock. It's not even an issue; it's just the reality. Besides that, everything is unisex, and it's all made in and around Amsterdam. According to Ninamounah, 'You can definitely do large-scale production here – there are so many possibilities. It does make the clothing more expensive, but I wouldn't do it any other way.'

Going forward, her greatest ambition is to remain independent and develop things at her own pace. She says, 'I'm rarely stressed. Even though I'm a super workaholic, I feel very supported by my family and friends.'

Text: Jessica Gysel
Philip Vermeulen

Philip Vermeulen

Philip Vermeulen graduated in 2017 from the interdisciplinary ArtScience master's programme bridging between the Royal Academy of Art The Hague and the Royal Conservatoire. Coming from a more traditional art training, he had always been fascinated by light and experimenting with it directly through projectors, strobes, screens, and other standard devices, even while he was still painting. In particular, he wanted these effects to heighten the experience of the viewer.

He takes a similar approach towards the materials he works with, from household objects like rotary fans, tennis balls, and tube lights to industrial components like three-phase motors. Through playful experiments, he pushes them to the point of collapse or failure in order to discover their limits—how fast can they spin, how much force can they absorb, how large can they be scaled up, how can they be hacked, and so on. At the borders of their functional integrity, these materials begin to change and transcend their normal qualities in everyday life. Philip identifies that moment as the expression of a unique character. He is then able to work with each character as a composer or director, putting it into a scripted context where it can perform its heightened function, and sometimes even auto-destruct as a dramatic finale.

As viewers, we perceive each character as a particular phenomenology through our various sensory organs, hearing vibrations as whirs, viewing refracted white light as a rainbow spectrum, or seeing moving parts as moiré patterns or solid shapes at certain speeds. Thus, Philip's artworks exist only as lived experiences where both the material components and the human observers play critical roles. As a result, there is always a degree of unpredictability. Philip describes the materials as having a life of their own, and his creative process can sometimes involve a fight for control, as the elements defy or confound his expectations.

In that sense, his practice links to twentieth-century experimental artists like John Cage or Hans Haacke, whose schematic compositions and real-time systems embraced contingency rather than predetermination. Likewise, they brought out the uncanny qualities and latent potentials in the everyday materials, technologies, and people that came together in their works. Fifty years later, Vermeulen extends this approach to new tools, including computer code, Arduino, sensors, 3D printing, and more. At the same time, he also captures the idiosyncrasies of soon-to-be obsolete technologies and the animated physicality of mechanical assemblies. In an era when sensory effects are increasingly produced from within the black box of the computer, when viewers have no understanding of their process or influence on their outcome, Philip Vermeulen's art can be read as an act of resistance.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Pim van Baarsen

Pim van Baarsen

Pim van Baarsen studied Man and Activity at the Design Academy in Eindhoven. Looking around him, he saw that many products were being invented that nobody needed and that lacked a practical application. And during his studies, he caught himself creating a problem of his own making so that he could in turn solve it using design. But he preferred to use his creativity to solve real problems. Pim explains, 'Design is accessible for about 10 per cent of the world's population, and that's a generous estimate. If most of the designers focus on this group, then who will serve the other 90 per cent?'

Pim's first foreign experience with the aim of making design more meaningful brought Pim to Nepal, where, together with his partner Luc van Hoeckel, he researched the use of medication. They lacked substantive knowledge of medicines, but as designers they were trained to provide practical solutions to problems. So they came up with a number of concepts to simplify medication and its use by means of design and imagination. Many Nepalese people in the outlying areas are actually illiterate. During an internship in Malawi, they later realized a collection of healthcare furniture, based entirely on locally available materials and techniques. With these two projects, the men, who are also known under the name Superlocal, have refined their working method and achieved their first successes. It is essentially a modern form of development aid.

'In less developed economies, it can be a bit more difficult to achieve your ultimate goal. In the West, we are used to very structured or streamlined production processes. We often have to 'push' people on behalf of commissioning clients to get the work done on time, which doesn't always make things any easier. It can come across as if we are Westerners here to explain how it works. We try to avoid that at all times. Still, it sometimes feels that way and that can be frustrating.' Pim points out the importance of an equal relationship. By involving the local craftspeople in the process from day one, they feel jointly responsible for it. In this way, the projects can be continued after the departure of Superlocal. 'We want to position ourselves as dispensable. Designers are often inclined to place themselves in the spotlight, but we prefer to focus attention on our local partner.'

Currently, Pim is in Rwanda. A year ago he was approached by the MASS Design Group, an architectural firm from Boston (United States). Their headquarters are in the Rwandan capital Kigali. It is not an unknown party for Pim who has been familiar with the bureau since the start of Superlocal. But it turned out to be true the other way round as well. After several publications on international design platforms that showed the successes of Superlocal in recent years, MASS Design Group made contact. The bureau is building an agricultural university in Rwanda. While they focus on all the structural matters, they asked Superlocal to design the complete interior for the campus. 'MASS Design Group is a great example. They always work on the basis of local crafts, techniques and materials and their designs are thoroughly researched. Their goal is to create employment and stimulate the local economy. What they mean for architecture, we want to mean for product design!'


Text: Giovanni Burke
Studio Bernhard Lenger

Studio Bernhard Lenger

In his design studio of the same name, Bernhard Lenger focuses on design in which a social, communicative theme is interwoven. His goal is to have a positive impact on society. By making international law, politics and human rights understandable, he wants to initiate change. 'Decision-making at the international level has a major impact, but is still not picked up by a large part of the population. That is why I'm trying to strengthen or simplify the message.'
Bernhard often works alone, but is also active as the founder of the We Are Foundation collective. The fact that the members come from different disciplines makes it possible to work on larger themes from different angles.

During his studies in industrial and mechanical design in Austria, where he was born, Bernhard saw that commercial redesign of products was very important. However, the actual problem was not solved. This outdated way of thinking could not hold his attention for long, which is why he now focuses mainly on the aforementioned themes. A further course of study at the Design Academy in Eindhoven made it possible to experiment more and eventually to focus on these themes.

Since last year, he has been developing his design methodology further. During this process, the realization came that he had to try to find this at the highest possible level, because that is where international law, politics and human rights are ultimately determined. At European Union level, for instance. 'Over the past year, I have looked at how I can enter into a collaboration with Members of the European Parliament. As an overarching body, the EU has its strengths and weaknesses. If communicating international legislation and issues better to the public were to succeed, it would be a big step forward. I've spent many hours trying to figure out UN publications myself, and they're really difficult to get through!'

Bernhard would like to support the communication of the policies and good intentions of these MEPs. In addition, in collaboration with a representative of Justice and Peace Netherlands, he started last year with research focused on design in Burundi. The LGBT community there is under great pressure, homosexuality is illegal and, as a result, many unjust arrests are taking place. Bernhard is keen to utilize his design methodology to improve the situation. The first step is to build a support network, so that the youth in Burundi can organize themselves better and which could offer a solution to local problems, for example by using design in a practical way. The uncertain political climate, linked to the upcoming national elections, has brought this project to a standstill for the time being. But Bernhard is determined to bring it to a successful conclusion.

When asked about his ultimate goal, Bernhard Lenger indicates that he especially wants recognition. Not personally, but recognition for the fact that designers can help to find usable solutions to social problems. 'Various organizations that have a major impact on our society can benefit enormously here. As designers, we can form the link between politics and society. Complex social themes can convey the message in an understandable way by using of design and imagination.'


Text: Giovanni Burke
Studio Koen Steger

Studio Koen Steger

Koen Steger discovered the inspiration for his profession early on. As a young boy, he spent countless hours designing things like flying cars and even a time machine – he was the very essence of an inventor. When you walk into Koen's studio on the Transformatorweg in Amsterdam, his passion is evident in the tangle of cables, wires, lights and circuit boards. It's easy to see why, after secondary school, he went to the TU Delft to study industrial design. But he soon realised that this programme wouldn't allow him to fully explore his imaginative side. He therefore found a better match at the Academy for Theatre and Dance (AHK – Amsterdam School of the Arts), where he studied scenography. The collaboration and overlap between different disciplines (directing, producing and artists) offered Koen the ideal environment for developing his talents in a field that interests him enormously: working with light.

As a creative designer at the start of his career, Koen plays with space and light; tangible objects or installations are the end result. But ultimately, he doesn't want to design just for the sake of it – instead, by combining technology and art, he wants to offer his audience an experience. He explains, 'Using the power of imagination, you can enable people to fantasize and be inspired, but also just simply relax. You can use technology to share an experience.' Koen says that he once had a dream where he found himself in a completely orange space. He thought it was such an amazing experience, that he wanted to recreate that feeling and share it with others. In order to create the impression of infinite space, he reached out to partners from the science world. By projecting light evenly within a spherical object, it creates the sensation of being in a state somewhere between being awake and falling asleep, which is known as 'hypnagogia'. The brainwaves that are stimulated during this state can help people who are facing burn-out significantly improve their physical condition. So it's no surprise that this is a pleasant, impressive experience.

In the past year, Koen Steger has been shifting his focus away from theatre, and more towards set design for television and light installations. He's also planning to design a combination of music and light using a 'light synthesizer'. What's clear is that Koen doesn't allow himself to be pushed into a project-based boxes. He's interested in collaborating with other disciplines, wants to continue to develop as broadly as possible, and makes whatever he wants. After taking a few detours, he is finally becoming the inventor he always wanted to be.

Text: Giovanni Burke
Teis De Greve

Teis De Greve

Soon after finishing his bachelor's and master's degree in audio-visual arts at the LUCA School of Arts in Belgium, Teis de Greve began focusing on the essence of interaction between man and machine. “I wanted to encourage myself and others to think critically about our relationship with technology', Teis says. He often uses existing technology as a starting point, such as old mobile phones or wireless networks. 'I make the final design with the goal of raising awareness about the impact of technology on our daily lives. I try to do it without incorporating my own judgements. I leave that to the viewers', he explains.

His graduation project was about wireless networking. He says, 'In public spaces, these networks play a private role because they're protected, and therefore not always accessible. People rarely consider the boundaries created by these networks, because they aren't visible to the naked eye.' Smart homes have also piqued his interest. Currently, smart thermostats are one of the most popular and frequently used smart home products. Teis has tried to design his own smart thermostat based on simple, readily available technology. Old smartphones collecting dust in a drawer at home can be used to develop a toolkit. He explains, 'Old smartphones have so many sensors and other types of built-in technology that can serve as the foundation for building smart home devices by yourself. Even my grandmother can easily set an alarm on her smartphone. Programming like that, at a micro level, can already be used to control household devices. Making contact via the SIM card using phones like these also creates great opportunities for DIY projects.'

Ever since going to China, Teis de Greve has also been fascinated by the 'smart city' phenomenon. There, he learned about bike-sharing systems that go 'live' overnight. Because the economic climate in China means these shared bikes aren't accessible to everyone, people are finding ways to cheat the system. For example, they hack the digital lock and take control of the bike by putting their own lock on it. Teis presented a self-designed lock at a fair for startups – and it was a rather unethical design. But it's impossible for Teis to make stealing bikes easier. With his design, he wants to be an instigator and encourage people to think about these sharing systems and their socio-economic consequences.

Text: Giovanni Burke
Théophile Blandet

Théophile Blandet

After studying for a Design Object bachelor in Reims, Théophile Blandet followed a master's degree programme at the Design Academy in Eindhoven, majoring in Contextual Design. In 2017, he graduated with a self-built computer that produces digital money, entitled 'Fountain of Money'. The starting point for this was Théophile's fascination with virtual currency, in terms of both form and functionality. He also presented several oil paintings under the title 'Fountain of Knowledge', which were not executed on canvas or a panel, but instead on the smooth surface of a computer screen. What at first glance appeared to be screenshots of open tabs, pop-up advertisements and social-media timelines were in fact meticulously painted scenes on which Théophile worked for more than three weeks per depiction.

It is precisely this contrast between the traditional technique of an oil painting, the digital representation and the unusual surface, that characterizes Théophile Blandet's artistic practice. In both cases, the fountain as an artefact plays a symbolic role with water that splits up and is spewed forth in large quantities.

He prefers to make everything himself from his workshop on Strijp-S in Eindhoven and once in a while he throws himself into a new material and explores all its possibilities. He compares his working method with that of a fashion designer, who makes a new collection every six months, sometimes with new materials, techniques or starting points. Before he starts investigating a new material or begins a new project, Théophile always draws up a set of rules for himself. He once limited himself to using only 15 plastics, which he melted down in various ways to produce hanging systems and bookshelves. His practice involves a high degree of craftsmanship, and he always starts with the material and conducts extensive research into it before he starts sawing, slicing, sanding, cutting or heating. Ideas for new forms of objects emerge from the possibilities of the material he has chosen.

All the objects developed by Théophile Blandet have a certain sculptural quality and are never the same. At the moment, he works almost exclusively with a certain type of aluminium, which he utilizes in the production of unique handmade chairs and tables. He always presents the results of his material research and never sees anything as a failure. It is part of the outcome of his research and therefore valuable. Although common in the design world, he never makes several models. The outcome of his research is always the first and simultaneously the last model.


Text: Manique Hendricks
Vera de Pont

Vera de Pont

Vera de Pont has a great interest in machinery. During a working period at Hella Jongerius's Weavers Werkstatt – a temporary textile-research workspace at Lafayette Anticipations in Paris – she is currently investigating the possibilities of the TC2 loom. 'You can lift each wire separately, which makes it possible to weave complex drawings or constructions in several layers. The research is a offshoot of my 2015 'Pop-up' project, in which I wove a complete jacket on a 150cm-wide loom.' In her design studies, Vera prefers an additive production process. Here you use exactly the amount of material you need to arrive at the end product. In other words: you don't generate residual material. That is what happens in a subtractive process, on which the current fashion system is largely based. 'The TC2 loom has a standard width, which is not how I would like to work, because this way you do end up with residual materials. I am trying to develop the flat machine in such a way that I can make 3D shapes, or joints that can go in multiple directions. I think it's amazing that I'm getting the chance to do this here.'

It's a typical Vera de Pont challenge. With a background in biomedical science and design, she entered the world of fashion more or less accidentally. Catwalks and the whole fuss surrounding it don't interest her. Her mission is to solve the inefficiency of the fashion system using science and creativity. 'For years I have been reading in books how proteins can fold themselves to acquire a certain function. I'm applying that knowledge to textiles now. In her research, she is also involved in developing software that generates digital blueprints for the knitting machine or 3D printer, for example. 'In my world, technology and creativity coincide a great deal; I see it as my paintbrush. We first design our instruments and tools before we make what comes out of them. I can get really excited when I think about both at the same time.'

Together with Martijn van Strien, she wrote the 'Open Source Fashion Manifesto' ('The future designer is a facilitator, developing the platform for designing and creating the final garment'). Together with Anouk van de Sande, she created AnoukxVera, a studio dedicated to Trend forecasting and textiles. In 2015, they started with sports wearables, an extension of her hobbies of bouldering, cycling and motorcycling. She is also in Taskforce Fashion, where she and 14 other designers have been commissioned by the Fund to think about burning social issues and how design can provide an answer to them. It's clear that Vera doesn't like competition. 'Together you get much further than on your own. And you can also take on more large-scale projects. You get pulled out of your own head.'

For her, it's not all about earning money; she prefers to invest in knowledge development and also in more intense collaborations with people from whom she can learn, such as Hella Jongerius. She dreams of one day working with NASA or ESA. 'I draw most of my inspiration from science; a material that is ultra-light and at the same time immensely strong fascinates me enormously. I am intrigued by the overlap between hi-tech and nature. That's what I really want to focus on.'


Text: Jessica Gysel
Waèl el Allouche

Waèl el Allouche

Like many of his designer peers, Waèl el Allouche is focused on data and its possibilities for creative research. Within that particular field, however, his practice is diametrically opposed to the expected approach. Rather than isolating data from reality or running generative or parametric software to produce idealised models or predictive simulations, Waèl is interested in the materiality of information and the inextricability of data from its context. His research does not use data to 'solve' problems; instead, it investigates the history of calculation and data in human culture, and it pursues the collection of data as a geographically-embedded, socially-entangled, and bodily-enacted ritual.

Studying conceptual design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam and design by data at the École des Ponts in Paris, Waèl never fully resolved existential questions about his personal position in the field. Reflecting on his family roots in Algeria and Tunisia, he began to explore the construction of identity over extended histories and geographies of colonialism and migration, in which data collection and profiling have proved endemic. At the same time, he also questioned the contemporary perception of math and science as domains of Western invention and advancement, rather than as the collective outcomes of cross-cultural exchange over many centuries, from classical antiquity through Byzantium, the Persian empire, the Islamic Golden Age, and the Renaissance.

Over the past few years, Waèl has developed a nonlinear approach to research, carrying out his investigations like intuitive algorithms guided by both a childlike sense of curiosity and an ethical care for context. In Ways of Knowing: Materialising the Gaze, he decided to create his own knowledge by measuring the colour of light in different places related to the history of Islamic science. To do so, he built his own instrument by adapting a 3D printer to replace the printer head with a spectrograph, a pinhole camera that measures a hyperspectral range of light from infrared to ultraviolet. The process of collecting original data provided the opportunity to become embedded in complex geographies and histories, as in his current fieldwork in Algeria and Tunisia.

At the same time, he delves into the histories of knowledge transfer that shaped the development of Western science through his project Orientalising Science - places like Béjaïa, in the Kabylie region of Algeria, where Fibonacci learned Islamic mathematics and Arabic numerals; or Utica, Tunisia, one of the most important Punic cities as well as Roman colonies; or Djerba, an island off the coast of Tunisia with a long history of Jewish-Muslim cohabitation and craftsmanship. In these sites, he looks for aspects of hybridity, from historical accounts in institutional archives to architectural constructions where marble slabs from Italy, Greece, and Tunisia lay side by side. Ultimately, Waèl el Allouche offers neither simple explanations nor data simulations; his aim is to begin dialogues that are grounded in shared lineages of discovery, conflict, and identity.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Alice Wong
Alice Wong
Alice Wong

Alice Wong

Are you married? This was the daily question with which Alice Wong was confronted in 2016 on her numerous research trips to China for Amsterdam-based design agency Thonik. “I became interested in this term 'leftover women' that was used to describe unmarried women in their 20s”, she explains. This provided the impetus for her new project, Leftover Women, which explores the societal pressures placed on unmarried, educated women by the Chinese government.

“Actually, because of the single child policy, the real problem is there are a lot of men leftover: surplus men.” Wong explains that having a lot of single men in society can cause chaos, and this is why the government has put pressure on women to marry them. With the project Leftover Woman, Wong has created an interactive website that is an experiment in non-linear storytelling through gamified film. The user plays a young, educated woman in China who has to make a number of decisions that conflict between individual free will and the will of a collective society.

Born in the Netherlands—and brought up between Rotterdam and Hong Kong—Wong feels that her position between Western and Chinese cultures gives her an opportunity to explore these cultural incongruences from a critical but compassionate perspective. “When you explain something in the West and ask if people understand it, they will say that they understand but do or don't agree”, she describes. “In China, people will say that they don't understand, but what they mean is that they don't agree. Then it becomes about convincing people to agree. Both sides have something to learn from each other.” Such cultural idiosyncrasies can be reflected in the construction of stories.

“Stories give shape to the things that people believe. They have a soft power in shaping society and its ideologies.” Wong says that since graduating from the Master's programme in Information Design at the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2015, she sees herself as a designer of stories. Her multi-award winning graduation project Reconstructing Reality was a deeply personal investigation into the circumstances around her father's death, giving an insight into how families create their own stories to live by, and how these can both liberate and oppress. Like Leftover Women, the film relies heavily on found footage, which has become a signature of her work.

“There's nothing new nowadays. Even if I were to create a new video filming the sea, how would it be unique or different to what I could find on Shutterstock?” asks Wong, who is also debuting a new work about the myth-making antics of Jack Ma—CEO of Alibaba.com—at Dutch Design Week. “For me, it's more interesting to look at what already exists with a different eye, embed it into a different context, and then to create friction and generate new meaning.”

Text: Nadine Botha
Anne Geenen
Anne Geenen
Anne Geenen
Anne Geenen

Anne Geenen

As a partner in the Mumbai-based architecture and design agency Case Design, Anne Geenen has designed and supervised projects in such countries as Indonesia, India, and the United Arab Emirates. She is also a co-founder of Casegoods, a collection of furniture, lighting, and objects, originally developed for architectural projects but now also being sold more widely. Anne's designs are always closely connected to the place where they are built. She works a lot with local materials and traditional techniques and detailing, always applied in a contemporary way.

Artisans have an important role to play in her practice, which is based on the notion that if other experts get the opportunity to add their knowledge and creativity to a project, the results will be raised to a higher level. By having parts of the design completed only later in the process, she invites specialists, end-users, and others to engage in dialogue about the execution. Because of this, the choices regarding materials, spatial design, and finishing are made gradually during the process itself. As an architect, she often presents no definitive design, preferring to use sketches, models, and mock-ups as an opportunity for dialogue and shared ownership.

The strong creative culture in India – characterized by large numbers of artisans and craftspeople, low levels of standardization, and the notion that details can take shape gradually – has enabled and enhanced her working method. The mentality of collective effort is applied at different scales – from product and exhibition design through to buildings and landscape architecture.

After having been based primarily in Mumbai for the last five years, Anne now hopes to expand the working method she has developed into the Netherlands and Europe. In this part of the world, building conventions are different than in India, but she believes that relationships between different professions can be structured in a more interesting way. For example, reusing an unconventional material, such as demolition waste, necessitates a creative discussion between the contractor and the architect, forcing a collaborative approach to the design and detailing. Anne is also exploring how construction processes in a European context can become more related to the place in which they are based with regard to collaboration and materials. Various presentation opportunities, including at the Venice Architecture Biennale, have enabled her to reflect on her practice and clarify it.

Text: Mark Minkjan
Camiel Fortgens
Camiel Fortgens
Camiel Fortgens
Camiel Fortgens
Camiel Fortgens

Camiel Fortgens

“But why?” This is a simple but important question to fashion designer Camiel Fortgens. Asking it brings him inspiration. Why is the norm as it is? Why do things look like they do? Having considered the question, he goes off on his own tangent.

Although Fortgens didn´t train as a fashion designer, he did study at the Design Academy Eindhoven. It was an educational programme that focused on finding things out for yourself, trial & error, being receptive to chance, and inspirational 'mistakes'. He learned about the fashion profession on the job. Rather than drawing and cutting patterns like you're supposed to, he used second-hand clothing as a basis, for example, and moulded clothes to create new shapes and ideas.

For his first collection, his models paraded up and down the catwalk dressed in oversized, archetypal clothing, accompanied solely by the sound of footsteps. The effect was bare, empty, and quite clearly a criticism of the glitter and glamour of the fashion world. Fortgens has an aversion to the fast, commercial nature of fashion and to talking about sustainability as a PR statement. But the conventions of fashion are proving difficult to break. The Fashion Weeks still dictate the purchasing policy in the shops and small-scale responsible production is a huge challenge.

Fortgens has now produced six collections. As demand for his work has grown, he feels more freedom to try and change the norms, to make his own mark. He aims to do this from within, like a Trojan horse. His latest collection pushes the boundaries of what one can wear and what is recognisable. To add weight to his message, Fortgens is experimenting with different means of communication. He wants to compile a photo book and raise the profile of his website, for example. Online there is more room for experimenting and more opportunity to involve as many people as possible in his work.

According to Fortgens, the taboo in 2018 is 'the real'. He doesn't see the reality of his generation reflected much in any of the images we are fed by the fashion industry. Clothing is the perfect vehicle for keeping up appearances and determining identity and etiquette. But to Fortgens, recording a zeitgeist and eliciting a new style of realism in his designs as a counter-reaction to 'fake' is more important than making fashion more sustainable or slowing down the industry. In a world where there are already plenty of clothes, he wants to be a cultural vehicle asking questions about how we live. Above all: but why?

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Carlijn Kingma
Carlijn Kingma
Carlijn Kingma
Carlijn Kingma
Carlijn Kingma

Carlijn Kingma

Even during the twentieth century, societal vistas were still regularly being depicted, often featuring architecture to express ideals. Their production seems to have halted in recent decades. Carlijn Kingma has stepped into this imaginative vacuum and made this kind of art the focus of her practice. However, unlike many promotional techno-utopian or highly-politicized perspectives on the future from the past, Carlijn's breathtaking drawings are contemplative, nuanced and multi-voiced.

She uses architecture – in which she graduated – as the medium for telling stories about human ambitions, socio-political histories and potential future scenarios. The language of architecture speaks to the imagination, giving it the metaphorical power to tell the story of humanity and encourage us to think about the future. Departing from what is conventional in modern visual culture, the architecture in Carlijn's work is not a final image offering the pretence of perfection, but an open suggestion of a future in the process of becoming. Her cartography of ideas pursues paths from history, extrapolating potential routes to the future from them.

Her drawings, metres in height, are complicated visual maps often depicting several worlds alongside each other in order to portray the choices faced by humanity. The complexity of the work lies not only in the intricate drawing, but also the world of the mind it presents. The images invite viewers to lose themselves within them and to reflect on the desirability of a range of socio-political possibilities by depicting both their beauty and their dark sides. They are calls for further exploration, which Carlijn hopes will enthuse people about stories from different cultures and times, both big and small.

In developing the drawings, she always works with scientists, architects, artists or writers. This helps inform her own research into such themes as capitalism, religion, and technology, and to present depictions of other people's ideas. Each drawing is accompanied by a publication and a video.

Currently, Carlijn is developing additional methods for conveying the stories and worlds depicted. She also aims to invite her audience to engage in discussion with her and with each other. Various different media are used in this process, including radio plays, performative situations, and presentations that provide access to some of the research. She has improved the professionalism of her practice by hiring a designer to help design dialogues around her work.

Text: Mark Minkjan
Chen Jhen

Chen Jhen

The work of graphic designers in the Netherlands has sought to explore the parameters of research, subjectivity, and media representation for more than 50 years, and none more prominently than that of Jan van Toorn. Today, the Taiwanese designer Chen Jhen embodies this lineage of critical reflection and experimentation, asking fundamental questions about how we understand places, people, and things. Is it possible to develop an unbiased impression of a foreign city in an era of high-resolution satellite mapping and geo-tagged social media? What does it mean to document an event, and how does this process differ when one feels native or foreign to its cultural context? Furthermore, how is the practice of contemporary graphic design intertwined with the notion of personal identity and agenda?

Over the past year, following her studies at the Design Academy Eindhoven, Jhen has investigated these themes in her research, building on her master's thesis exploring the Taiwanese identity, its synthetic culture and language, and the iconography of former leader Chiang Kai-shek. Reflecting on this project, she realised that her search for the factors that differentiated Taiwan from China had become, in itself, a political endeavour. Last year, she set herself the challenge of travelling to an unknown place in order to study it from an unbiased perspective. Nonetheless, and despite having never visited the city before, her photos and observations of Jakarta seemed to reproduce an impression of speed, density, and social inequality that she had passively absorbed through media depictions.

Jhen's latest work asks what it means to observe a much more mundane subject matter—a person eating lunch. Over Dutch work lunches, Jhen would note in obsessive detail the behaviour of the person across from her, including what food they ate, in which order, how they moved their body, how they held their utensils, how they arranged their plate, what they left unfinished. She recorded her notes as a script, which formed the basis for a reenacted performance by a Taiwanese actor, who (like Jhen) was unfamiliar with Dutch food culture. Like Georges Perec's An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, Jhen's work explores the role of the observer, language, and reader in the process of capturing a complex and unfolding reality in documentary form.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Daniel de Bruin
Daniel de Bruin
Daniel de Bruin
Daniel de Bruin
Daniel de Bruin

Daniel de Bruin

“I can use them. I can break them. I can rebuild them. It's just an instinct of mine to build machines.” Daniel de Bruin is not a philosopher, yet—despite the frankness of a man who makes and thinks with his hands—the insights of his interactive exhibition devices demonstrate a depth befitting of these words. Pieces include the simple Opal, recreating a childhood game of playing with window blinds in order to evoke the pleasurable tactility and innocence of our domestic environment; the unnerving j8d-001001-s'(made in collaboration with Jelle Mastenbroek), describing how surveillance of our every move has become embedded in our environment; and the elaborate Moniac, an analogue installation that invites observers to participate in a mechanical financial system in order to make abstract economics seem more understandable. De Bruin's work is undoubtedly the manifestation of a deep thinker, one who expresses himself through tinkering rather than language.

“It feels like machines are kind of alive sometimes”, confesses the Utrecht- and Soesterburg-based designer. He prefers to dive right into the making of his pieces, rather than spend too much time planning and researching, and allow the process to drive his creations. He completed the Master's programme in Product Design in 2015, at the University of the Arts Utrecht, but discovered his creative inspiration while interning as an architectural model maker. In order to understand financial systems for the piece Moniac, he describes nine months of research watching Youtube and speaking with experts. He confesses, however, to not really enjoying it.

The divergence between designer and design process that has developed with the growth of computer-aided making is what inspired De Bruin's Analogue 3D Printer, which works by requiring the designer's physical input. “I want to have a relationship with the machine, not just hand over the execution of a design to them”, he explains. Typically, a human-machine relationship only affects the human, but De Bruin also wanted to explore if there was a way for the machine to be impacted by human interaction. The Neurotransmitter 3000 is a one-person roller coaster in which the machine responds to biometric data obtained from the rider.

As someone who is in constant demand from clients ranging from museums and marketing agencies to other designers, De Bruin says that he does not have a lot of time to pursue his own projects. One recent commission, another collaboration with Maasenbroek, launches at the Eindhoven Museum during Dutch Design Week. At the moment, however, he is working on a range of sophisticated pinball machines. He hopes to develop these into a product range.

“It's a basic emotion”, he states—with typically deadpan delivery—when asked to elaborate on the thread of humour that runs through his work. “It works with a lot of people, and it works for me. I don't like to do those super serious things.”

Text: Nadine Botha
Frank Kolkman
Frank Kolkman
Frank Kolkman
Frank Kolkman
Frank Kolkman

Frank Kolkman

Although new technologies are influencing almost every aspect of human life, the cultural convention of a division between humans and technology – between analogue and digital – stubbornly persists. Experimental designer Frank Kolkman's practice focuses on speculative works that depict the evolution of humans and technology as an intertwined process. His work enables technology to open up new perspectives on the human condition and cultural norms.

Although different technologies and new possibilities now exist, the promise of technology is still stuck in twentieth-century templates. Frank envisages a more inclusive capacity of the imagination with regard to technology, bypassing the narrow notion of hyper-efficiency and grounded in diverse ideals and experiences. Technology is not neutral and its development should not solely be based on the perceptions of prosperous, middle-aged white men from the Bay Area. For this reason, Frank attempts to bring the discussion about technology into the public arena, making it a socio-political topic that is not the sole preserve of technical experts. Recurring themes include DIY and open source, which question technological dictatorships, the illusion of faultless design and the notion that end-users have nothing to add to products.

His speculative designs contribute to a critical discourse on product design. It is a discipline that has not kept pace with other creative fields in this regard, despite the fact that upscaling and its increased potential influence require it to do so. Whereas most product design is self-affirming, Frank's designs are self-questioning. His work suggests none-too-distant futures in which the available technologies, many of them new, are used in ways for which no conventions exist and which raise ethical dilemmas. By combining fiction and reality, the installations provide the public with a starting point from which to think about the desirability of certain technologies and potential futures.

In developing his practice, Frank initially focused primarily on independent work exploring the moral boundaries around technological innovations in mental and physical health. In this process, he collaborated with scientists, medical specialists, and artists. In the last year, he also worked with research institutes and companies, where some of his research was conducted and designs were realized. This enables larger projects to come into being while Frank is developing skills as a mediator. By doing so, he is creating conditions to help other designers and students to achieve design based on new perspectives. As his independent practice continues to grow, his design philosophy is gradually being communicated more widely.

Text: Mark Minkjan
Isabel Mager
Isabel Mager
Isabel Mager
Isabel Mager

Isabel Mager

It is 11 years since Apple's first iPhone redefined the Smartphone, a device that hardly anyone could deny has changed how we communicate, work, love and even walk. Less apparent is how it has also radically reshaped geographical landscapes, economic livelihoods, country politics and the sovereignty of corporations. It is precisely these intricate, subtle ramifications of a very visible device that interest designer Isabel Mager, who has recently embarked on a five-month research journey to Shenzen, Beijing and rural China to “follow smartphone production backwards”.

The Rotterdam-based designer has been interested in the impact of these unseen infrastructures since she undertook a project as a student about electronic waste being sent to Rwanda. In 2016 she obtained her bachelor's at the Design Academy Eindhoven with 5000times, a project that analysed various media sources to create an incomplete list of the manual tasks executed by a human worker in the construction of smartphones, tablets and laptops. The information was compiled by surveying news articles about exploited workers in smartphone, tablet and laptop factories, and analysing bootleg footage of operations in these factories on Youtube – opening and destroying a couple of devices in the process. A durational performance of a worker's shift demonstrated the restrictive choreography of the job that has driven many to suicide.

“I feel that design research is really about reflecting, understanding, and also shifting in some ways, the material world that we inhabit.” Mager also writes about her findings, including a paper about 5000times in the journal Decolonising Design. However, she finds it important to also present the results in the material design language of the subject matter: “It's a very beautiful thing that you can actually communicate quite complex things through design languages, grammar, and materiality, which makes the complexities very tangible.”
This signature approach of in-depth information investigation and analysis—seen through a lens of economics and power dynamics and manifested in an artistic and performative reinterpretation—has been applied to subjects including the food industry, urban consumer space, and the shipping container industry. Working together with political scientist Daniel Urey and designer Gabriel Maher, she also continues the long-term research project based around the concept of “the podium” – an object on which an act of speech takes place – examining how repeated patterns of design are used historically and culturally to articulate power.

Returning to her forthcoming research in China, she says that she is interested in the “remaining coloniality of such a young industry”. Specifically, how value and power are still distributed so unevenly: between worker and manufacturer, between Apple's low market share and high profit, between the international communities' stance on China's human rights violations and its use as a trade and tax haven. As a designer, particularly a critical research designer who is not compelled to make a marketable product, she acknowledges that she is in the upper percentages of the value and power hierarchy: “How can I use this to highlight that design is always both innovation and destruction?”

Text: Nadine Botha
Jason Hansma
Jason Hansma
Jason Hansma

Jason Hansma

“I've always been suspicious about history that celebrated the brain and the liver and the heart as agents of humanness”, explains artist Jason Hendrik Hansma from the studio in Rotterdam. “Without the carotid veins and arteries in your neck, which connect the brain and heart, you're essentially dead.” Hansma's glass-blown carotid sculptures embody the essence of Jason's artistic practice: the glass medium emphasises the fluidity and transparency of the human and questions individual agency, the installation in transient spaces such as door frames and corridors question the permanence of identity and fact, and the focus on vessels rather than organs highlights limited perspectives and understandings that have emerged from modernist and colonial empiricism.

Born to Dutch parents in Pakistan, and having grown up in Thailand and Australia, Hansma is acutely aware of how relativity functions across cultures, landscapes and languages. “I believe in 'pass-throughs' of past and present experiences of others, that have been changed by my own experiences”, he describes, paraphrasing the eco-philosopher Joanna Macy. A graduate of the Fine Art Master's programme at the Piet Zwart Instituut, Rotterdam, Hansma's range of writing, installation and performance works are both diverse and interlinked in their scope. They include decommissioned lab components used to study quantum entanglement, reflecting the precision of the unknowable; fragmented photographs that explore lightness as material, glass-blown forms that explore the abstract materiality of the human body; and poetic video works that reflect on temporality and non-linearity. The work can be read as snapshots of the complex ecologies of collective cognition and identity; an increasingly relevant topic as our accelerated network culture confronts us with the limitations of both obsessive individuality and blind group thinking.

“I think the crisis that we're in is a lack of understanding of the porosity of our world, and that think that our identities are contained in ourselves and that a human ends at the boundaries of their skin.” Hansma explains that he is heavily influenced by feminist theorist Karen Barad—who explores how our ideas and identities that are not situated within the physical world but are a part of that world. Exploring the liminality between thought and body, touch and interaction, co-dependence and entanglement, and old and new technologies is Hansma's forthcoming short film Umbra. Inspired by the ghost movie genre, the film explores the politics of algorithms using early silent films from EYE Filmmuseum in Amsterdam, footage shot in a quantum physics laboratory, and footage of rippling water originally used in mapping sea-level change.

Another expansion of Hansma's practice is Shimmer, a non-profit art space in Rotterdam Port opened with Eloise Sweetman in 2018. It intends to offer an intimate space for fellow artists to also explore porous concepts and identities outside of the outcomes-funded art industry.

Text: Nadine Botha
Joana Chicau
Joana Chicau
Joana Chicau
Joana Chicau
Joana Chicau

Joana Chicau

Some forms of dance, such as ballet or folk dance, seem timeless and constant, spanning centuries with the same motions and music. Other forms, however, respond to specific cultural, physical, or technical conditions in much the same way as design or visual art. For example, butoh emerged in Japan in the decades after World War II, reflecting the deep pain and societal upheaval following the nuclear explosions in Hiroshima and Nagasaki coupled with the onset of rapid industrialisation. By the 1990s, the computer began to infiltrate dance through the work of choreographers such as Merce Cunningham, opening up a more direct relationship between body and digital processes.

The Portuguese designer Joana Chicau continues this tradition, fusing her background as a dancer with her education in media design. Chicau, who completed her master's at the Piet Zwart Institute in Rotterdam, was attracted to the broader outlook of the Dutch graphic design field, encompassing methods and channels far beyond the traditional tools of visual design and printing. She approaches design not only by mastering technologies like computer code, but by critically engaging with the way these technologies engender systems of control and predetermination in the people who shape, employ, or experience them. Her work questions issues of agency, the user, code as language or script, and physical interaction with digital technology. Furthermore, her live “choreographic coding” sessions give visibility to code as a kind of material as well as an action, one normally hidden behind smooth, seamless digital interfaces or inside the glass-walled offices of corporate giants.

Chicau's work also reflects a recent shift in design discourse towards embodied practice and performance over detached objects and technologies. She deconstructs the website as a kind of anthropomorphic structure with a head(er) and a body: the header tends to contain meta-information, external data, and Javascript functions, while the body is more of a secondary carrier for content. Through workshops, discussions, and performances, she brings together diverse communities and skill sets—many of which fall outside the conventional design field—in order to examine the effects of media design on how we move and interact in physical and virtual spaces. Despite the challenges of establishing such a hybrid and experimental research practice, she endeavours to empower people and to instil a sense of criticality into their daily lives.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Jos Klarenbeek
Jos Klarenbeek
Jos Klarenbeek
Jos Klarenbeek

Jos Klarenbeek

Jos Klarenbeek graduated in 2015 at the Design Academy Eindhoven, specializing in 'Man and Public Space'. As a designer, he is interested in enabling access to and translating complex data. In the next year, he intends to focus on data from satellites. An unprecedented amount of raw data on the Earth is now available free of charge, including temperature charts and the wave movements of oceans. This data is used by researchers and science, but the coding means it is inaccessible and unusable for the wider public, even though it can prove to be an interesting source for designers, for example. In order to plug this gap, Klarenbeek plans to develop various tools that will make it possible to link satellite data to a loom or a CNC machine, for example. To achieve this, he plans to do an artist-in-residency at PlanetLabs in San Francisco. He also intends to set up a collaboration with Aliki van der Kruijs, in which they plan to bring together their knowledge and use real-time wave information from the Wadden Sea as a design variable.
Julia Janssen
Julia Janssen
Julia Janssen
Julia Janssen
Julia Janssen

Julia Janssen

Today, more than ever before, media literacy is a crucial part of a responsible and self-aware approach to digital network technologies. In an era where nearly all of our online activity is processed to extract personal data, we all have a specific value in terms of our multiple, interlinked online profiles. Our identities are thus commodified by data collectors and analysts, who monetise this information as predictive indicators or criteria for targeted advertising. Dutch designer Julia Janssen first became interested in the idea of personal data as a currency in her final project at ArtEZ University of the Arts in Arnhem. In Bank of Online Humanity, her bachelor's graduation project, Janssen collected a variety of online profile typologies based upon individual characteristics, from “Superficial Ambitionless Savers” to “Informed Conceited Enjoyers”, each with discrete behavioural patterns and value within the network.

This year, Janssen has continued to explore the meaning of the “online user”, translating her research into a physical installation consisting of several games, each focusing on a particular aspect of her findings. She designs tools for people to understand how they are tracked and quantified—not only on social media, but in terms of their health, financial status, stage of life, and online browser history. These data are combined across platforms and systems in order to build more complex profiles. Different profiles also have different financial weight: for example, profiles of pregnant women are seen as particularly lucrative given their tendency to buy new products for their babies, their homes, or themselves. Finally, Janssen models a game inspired by slot machines whereby users pay with their data in order to gamble for free. As Janssen describes, we are the product of our individual information.

In her investigations, Janssen has transcended the limits of the design discipline: her research shows that many of the social orchestrations and categorisations enacted by mass data collection are invisible to the end user, but highly instrumental to the organisation that collects, manages, or analyses that data. In order to acquire a clear picture of the status quo, she spoke to behavioural scientists, data journalists, cybersecurity experts, and analysts for Rabobank and KPMG, as well as researchers at the Institute for Information Law at the University of Amsterdam. She believes that working within the context of art and design allows her to investigate these themes more speculatively, weirdly, sceptically and lightheartedly, encouraging a more open-ended and creative response to issues that may seem beyond our control.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Karim Adduchi
Karim Adduchi
Karim Adduchi
Karim Adduchi
Karim Adduchi

Karim Adduchi

Fashion has a loud voice, but what is all the shouting about? Fashion designer Karim Adduchi mainly wants to tell stories and add a social aspect to the production process. Or as he puts it: “Creating community, never being political, just social.”

As early as 2015, the show he put on when he graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy stood out from the rest. Entitled She knows why the caged bird sings, his collection was inspired by heritage from his native country, Morocco. His second presentation, She lives behind the court yard door (the opening show at the Amsterdam Fashion Week), was a real eye-opener and a turning point for him: this is not the way. After the relative freedom afforded by the art academy, the professional fashion world with its inflexible rhythm and sky-high expectations felt like a gilded cage. He wanted his next project to be a statement, entirely on his own conditions and in line with his own vision.

For the collection She has 99 names, Adduchi sought the help of non-professionals: housewives, students and refugees. By involving people from outside the fashion industry, he was trying to reinstate a certain innocence, freshness and pleasure into designing. In addition, Adduchi wanted to give them a platform, a CV and a network. By concentrating all the work in the same studio (from sewing to fittings on models), he tried to involve everyone in the entire process and generate a community. As the skills of those he involved were very diverse, cooperation and collaboration were of the essence. The experiences, crafts and stories these people contributed formed an important source of inspiration for Adduchi. A total of around 25 people worked on the project.

This collection also features references to Adduchi's roots, such as embroidery inspired by North-African mosaics and traditional patterns. The fashion show was held out of season in a church. Both the timing and the venue were a statement. The huge media attention this presentation generated (both before and after the event) established Adduchi's name and identity as a 'social fashion designer'.

The social impact of design and the way designers work is steadily gaining attention. Not only the product, but also the process becomes important. It can be difficult to express this in the end result. More and more makers are taking to social media to give people a glimpse of how their ideas arise and evolve. Adduchi prefers to communicate his underlying ideas through words in interviews, lectures and press releases. The faces behind his collection also have their moment in the spotlight on the catwalk, but in the end, it's the clothes that do the talking.

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Koos Breen
Koos Breen
Koos Breen
Koos Breen

Koos Breen

Over the past few decades, design research has tended (perhaps in an attempt to legitimise itself) to adopt components from more traditional academic disciplines and to focus disproportionately on contemporary political, economic, and social issues. However, this approach runs the risk of underestimating the possibilities for research native to design practice—the more intuitive, open-ended, process-based, and materially-rooted forms of experimentation that can only emerge by doing, seeing what happens, and doing again. This approach can be more difficult to rationalise but remains the primary foundation for the innovative culture of Dutch design across a variety of media.

Koos Breen's practice is a paradigm of this approach to research through design. Every object, image, structure, or installation becomes the seed for a new idea—one with the potential to take any form or medium, which can explore new meanings or functions, unburdened by the conditions of previous experiments. Like many graphic designers trained in the Netherlands, his work is not confined to the traditional skills he was taught. On the contrary, part of his approach is to celebrate the unexpected outcomes of techniques in which he has no formal training: from pottery and virtual reality to weaving and casting. .

These trans-material investigations also bring Breen into close proximity with a variety of collaborators. These range from experience designers Random Studio to textile designer Nadine Goepfert, professionals with the ability to complement Breen's border-crossing design curiosity with specific areas of technical specialisation and expertise. His work reflects the challenging demands faced by the contemporary designer to be able to move confidently from the realm of concrete objects encountered in a physical space to the visual representations of these objects in digital and print media. Breen's method is an example of how a designer can expand and develop their practice without sacrificing the playfulness, lateral thinking, and continuous learning that drove their explorations during their design education.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Lilian van Daal
Lilian van Daal
Lilian van Daal
Lilian van Daal
Lilian van Daal

Lilian van Daal

In the twentieth century, plastics brought about a revolution in the design of chairs. Since then, a new possibility has been added – 3D printing. Lilian van Daal explores the opportunities for maximizing comfort and functionality by using this relatively new technique.

Van Daal began to attract attention in 2014 with her graduation project: a printed chair combining advanced technology with biomimicry – 'learning from nature' – in order to optimize products or processes and make them more sustainable. She believes that studying, analysing and implementing natural phenomena is the key to a more sustainable design practice. Her purchase of the acclaimed book Kunstformen der Natur, by the nineteenth-century zoologist Ernst Haeckel, is probably one of her most important investments of the last year. Its detailed drawings form an inexhaustible source of inspiration.

As she has now given up her regular job at a design agency, she is free to engage in more experimentation and collaboration. During a business challenge, van Daal was paired with Oceanz, a Dutch 3D printing company. She set to work using a recyclable plastic developed by them. She started trying to use this new material to create a full-size version of the chair she created for her graduation as a scale model (1:2). In order to achieve this, van Daal has learned more about the software and the digital drawing of structures in order to improve the efficiency of the modelling and production. The problem lies in the limitations of the printer: while the scale models could be printed in one go, it is now necessary to print out separate components. She joins them to each other using efficient connection points (similar to those found in nature), rather than glue. Glue makes furniture – and especially couches – difficult to recycle, which is a major frustration for van Daal.

The result of the collaboration, Radiolaria (named after micro-organisms with an unusual structure) was presented during the 2018 Dutch Design Week in Eindhoven. Both the production time and production costs have been halved. She had only one opportunity to print the final version, with just a few tests in advance. This means that it is still another prototype that requires further development.

Van Daal is less interested in a final product than in improving processes, including recycling. It is more important to her to reduce production time and energy consumption than to design a trendy chair. This attitude is in line with an age in which a critical approach to the sustainability of designs is adopted. Does the world really need a new chair?

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Manon van Hoeckel
Manon van Hoeckel
Manon van Hoeckel

Manon van Hoeckel

Contact with 'the other' lies at the heart of social designer Manon van Hoeckel's practice. Based on a wide societal perspective, her designs explore the increasing distance between population groups and the potential political consequences thereof. She sees a society in which the image people have of strangers is based on reports in the media and on social platforms and much less on personal experiences.

In a more immediate way, her work is about promoting local contact, where sharing a place or facility can provide a sense of local security and social connection. Surprise encounters can enhance the ability to empathise with others' perspectives and even mitigate social isolation. At the same time, Manon identifies a general tendency to design places, systems and products as efficiently as possible, while friction and inefficiency can actually help create unexpected situations and initiate contacts with others.

That is why Manon's designs always focus on encounters and dialogue. She does not believe in organizing meetings, but is much more interested in eliciting conversations around practical human needs. After all, people from all kinds of backgrounds have to do the washing, have their hair cut or collect parcels. By creating interventions around these practical links in society, unforced encounters emerge which can be designed in all kinds of ways to encourage and elicit conversations. Specific conversational subjects can be introduced, for example, that are of relevance to the people involved, the location where the work is based, and the wider debate. Equally, opinions and stories can be collected from people whose voices may often go unheard in democratic processes or in the public arena. By placing these useful aspects on a pedestal, Manon also demonstrates the social importance of collective places and public occupations.

Although her original intentions were different, Manon has opted to position herself as a designer in the context of numerous collaborations rather than setting up a studio with several staff members. She also plans to develop fewer full projects independently by outsourcing more aspects. The clearly-defined and yet boundless core of her work – causing people to meet – means that she has the potential to develop her practice in all kinds of forms, areas, and collaborations. Manon also develops concepts for businesses and organizations, enabling projects to be adopted after completion and continue to exist over the longer term.

Text: Mark Minkjan
Winner DDA
Márk Redele
Márk Redele
Márk Redele
Márk Redele

Márk Redele

After finishing architecture school, Márk Redele found himself disappointed by the profession's limited relevance as part of the standardised construction machinery. Upon moving to a more theoretical standpoint, he situated his spatial practice within the arts. Still deeply engaged with material and formal considerations, his works are intended to reconstruct the physical and mental spaces in which they are situated.

Redele's work is agonistic: containing a form of struggle and inviting people to participate and respond. Suggestive of multiple architectural scenarios within single works, they take attention from the physical to the more imaginary level. Márks practice is not only a phenomenology of material and movement but also of language: it investigates how to rewrite space.

Skeuomorphic elements—materials moulded to look like other materials—are recurring cues in his practice that challenge collective perceptions and conventions. By offering new perspectives on commonplace items, environments or situations, the work redirects attention to the mundane, to everyday movements, occurrences and sensations. Encounters with it trigger people to rediscover tactility, materiality, and invisible actions and responses. An installation could at the same time be understood as a domestic design object, an architectural form and a structure becoming something else. This quality of becoming is another core theme in his work, through which he challenges claims of completeness and dictation in spatial design, proposing a more open exchange between people and spaces.

Redele sees the art world as a fruitful environment in which to construct his Trojan horse, through which he can bring his spatial approach to the scale of architecture. As installations, his theoretical creations can materialise and be more than paper architecture. His aim is to arrive in the same arena as traditional architectural practices but to create structures that offer more freedom in their materiality, meaning and affordances.

His practice is currently developing into more collaborative projects for which he is working with writers, designers, artists and photographers. Inviting others to develop artistic interpretations of spatial phenomena builds on Redele's practice of presenting a variety of architectural scenarios simultaneously. Still creating autonomous work, he now takes on a more curatorial role, bringing together different voices that relate to space in unusual ways.

Text: Mark Minkjan
New State of Matter
New State of Matter
New State of Matter
New State of Matter

New State of Matter

Should you have a child? Is it fair to the child—or to the rest of the world—when environmental challenges make the future so uncertain? Is conceiving and rearing a baby something that can, or should, be controlled? How will it affect your relationship and family? What about how it will physically impact your body, especially if you are the mother? And what about your career – what is your life's purpose anyhow? These are some of the questions that designer Gaspard Bos raises in his new piece Pathfinders, unveiled for the first time at the Dutch Design Week.
“It is a mediator of conversations”, says Bos of the interactive installation that he developed while completing a research residency at the Unstable Design Lab in Boulder, Colorado. The work marks a turning point in the Rotterdam-based designer's practice. Since graduating from TU Delft's Integrated Product Design Master's in 2013, he has co-founded the Better Future Factory start-up (building on the Perpetual Plastic Project interactive recycling installation), worked with the Bugaboo baby stroller company to open-source design aspects in order to make replacement parts 3D-printable, worked with local people in Peru to co-design furniture woven from PET bottles, and participated in the adaptation and redesign of core relief items for refugees in Lesvos. He also still finds time to write, record and perform music.
“When I graduated, I really believed that if you want to do something to change the world, to make it more sustainable, you had to also make a business out of it”; Bos confesses that over the past few years he has realised that the way we do business is one of our biggest problems. Similarly, he has abandoned some project ideas centred on technological optimisation: “Technology doesn't bring people together. People come together. Making some great technology or app isn't suddenly going to improve the world. It has to come from social change.”
Facilitating this change by creating interventions that help us redefine our values and ways of doing things is the essence of “transition design” for the Rotterdam-based designer. The Pathfinders project has inspired Bos to focus his work more in this direction. He continues to work on a machine-learning enabled secondhand clothing project that combines the potential of new technologies with the urgent need to discuss and revalue the disposability of the fashion industry.
“I won't ever”, concludes Bos, “say I design solutions anymore.” In a world of constant change, solutions become obsolete so fast. We need more transitions.

Text: Nadine Botha
Studio Reus
Studio Reus
Studio Reus
Studio Reus
Studio Reus

Studio Reus

There isn't an established definition that seems applicable to Jonathan Reus. On the one hand, he's an experimental electronic musician exploring the affective space generated between performers during improvisation. On the other, he is the sound artist commissioned to create the sonic scenography of a forthcoming staging of Brave New World by the Asko-Schönberg performing arts ensemble. His work is not, however, so spectacle-driven for him to feel comfortable with the moniker of media artist. Contemporary artist might be more appropriate to describe the subtly conceptual nature of his work, but this fails to reflect his material and making driven process. Maybe he's more of a conceptual designer, but he resists the innovation rhetoric that goes along with this. It's not an easy definition, he admits.
It is, however, exactly this definition-defying playing field in which he thrives. Besides, Reus understands firsthand that “struggles build character”. After completing his bachelor's in the US, he broke his back and was forced to compromise in his artistic ambitions, taking software engineering jobs to pay back his student loans and medical bills. “That kind of work sort of trains your neurons to work very logically and rationally in a disembodied way”, Reus describes, and “a lot of my artwork is kind of a push against that.”

This fightback is reflected “both from a technological standpoint, and also in the process of developing artistic tools that encourage embodiment, a sense of flow, a sense of being in time, being in a moment.” These are some of the spatial, durational and embodied qualities that drew him to sound as an artistic medium. The current resurgence of sound art, he wonders, may represent the global magnification of his own struggles: “Maybe my experience software is just a microcosm of the entire rest of the world's experiences of being over inundated with screens.” Now based in The Hague, his artistic ambitions were given a second chance in 2009 when he received a W. J. Fulbright fellowship to undertake a research project at STEIM in Amsterdam. In 2014, he went on to complete the Master's in Music at the ArtScience Interfaculty of the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague.

Still, he hankers to find a kind of middle ground and spent the past year trying to find a working methodology for his creative practice. Step one of this necessitated the building of a studio. Now, about to embark on a residency at the IEM in Graz as part of the 'Algorithms That Matter' research project, he is looking to explore alternative, non-digital algorithmic ideas from different cultures. These are of interest not only as a new approach to electronic music but also to perfect his work process: “I want to challenge myself to make an algorithm for myself to make art”, he muses half-jokingly. “Hopefully at the end of this year, I'll have either a completely tongue-in-cheek flowchart for producing work or something that's a really powerful tool, flexible enough to allow serendipity but structured enough to produce identity.”

Text: Nadine Botha
Suzanne Oude Hengel
Suzanne Oude Hengel
Suzanne Oude Hengel
Suzanne Oude Hengel
Suzanne Oude Hengel

Suzanne Oude Hengel

Innovation in knitting: it's no longer a contradiction in terms, and certainly not to designer Suzanne Oude Hengel. She is trying to push back boundaries by taking a new look at the possibilities of the knitting machine. And then she applies her findings to innovative, seamless shoe designs.

Although her designs may be unconventional, the design problems she encounters are as conventional as can be: what is the best way to use the material to do justice to its natural state of being? As an independent designer, how can you bridge the gap with the industry? The distinctive, colourful shoes she designs are still at the prototype stage. Her aim isn't so much to create her own label as to conduct research and advise businesses about materials and technology, and to think up new applications for footwear in collaboration with innovative parties.

Her thirst for deeper knowledge of technology is driven by frustration with the answer “no, you can't do that with a machine” – an answer that isn't even always true. Oude Hengel has found the space she needs to learn and experiment in the TextielLab in Tilburg, which is part of the TextielMuseum. After a 12-month internship, she now works as a technical assistant in the knitting department. She doesn't only learn all there is to know about flat-bed knitting machines, but also about the software that controls the digital equipment. Learning to program takes a lot of time and practice, so Oude Hengel does this in her spare time. You could call it digital craft: you have to practise, experiment, and clock up lots of hours and metres. By investing in software, she is now able to get to grips with the program in her studio.

The manual knitting machines she uses herself are a good, low-tech, hands-on way of trying out her ideas and changing things as she goes along. This is more difficult on digital machines because you have to load all the information first. Since graduating, she has also found a low-threshold way of soling her shoes: dipping the top of the shoes (upper) into a bath of rubber. No glue is required. At the moment, she is exploring the use of spacers (a material with space in the middle, like a sandwich) to attach the soles, again without the need for adhesives.

She visited several European trade fairs last year to broaden her knowledge of materials and to catch up with the latest developments. This resulted in visibility and a brand-new network, and she is now reaping the benefits in the shape of increasingly exciting and relevant new commissions. Knitting definitely has a future.

Text: Victoria Anastasyadis
Tenant of Culture

Tenant of Culture

Hendrickje Schimmel's practice resists easy categorisation, spanning the disciplines of textiles, fashion, sculpture, and curation. After studying fashion in Arnhem and textiles at London's Royal College of Art, her interests coalesced in an unusually nuanced approach to textiles rather than as a practice explicitly aimed at the fashion industry. Schimmel was fascinated by fashion as a phenomenon—how it operates, the discourse it sparks, how trends circulate and evolve, and how it impacts the lives of normal people—and sought to address these questions through the media of textile and garments, even if these are never placed on a human body.

Schimmel's work reflects a contemporary world where creative fields feed off of and infect one another, one where clothing can be both the subject and medium of socioeconomic critique. Today, as house prices become increasingly prohibitive to young people and as social media seeks to capture every waking moment of our lives, what people choose to wear makes a powerful statement in public space. Rather than frame her practice through projects driven by abstract concepts, Schimmel embraces the messy complexities, coincidences, and paradoxes that she witnesses on the streets of London. The frivolous can be as meaningful as the minimalist, and her work functions as a barometer for how people interact with textile on a day-to-day basis. She enjoys the freedom of withdrawing from the need to make a wearable and profitable collection, while also challenging the art world's aversion to things that resemble products.

Most recently, Schimmel has explored the twin rhetorics of hyper-functionality and painstaking traditionalism in contemporary clothing, concepts she describes as “ornamental survivalism” and “bucolic nostalgia”. The romantic longing for a simpler past has long been a central motif in human culture, and equally so in fashion, even as technological advances make fabrics and garment construction ever more complex, engineered, and performative. Schimmel frames both “ornamental survivalism” and “bucolic nostalgia” as responses to the malleable ideas of nature, urbanism, and morality. Both the camouflage-print coat and the high-visibility, waterproof backpack embody a deeply embedded fear of the unknown future and a valorisation of the hunter figure, while the straw basket conjures images of organic rural living. As she investigates these themes, Schimmel also experiments with the boundaries of wearability and curation and how these interact in the space of human encounter.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
TeYosh
TeYosh
TeYosh
TeYosh
TeYosh

TeYosh

Sofija Stanković and Teodora Stojković came from Serbia to the Netherlands in order to study graphic design at the Sandberg Instituut, attracted by both the school's open structure and the social and political engagement it seeks to foster. This educational model resonated with the pair, who view the designer not as the intermediary between client and printer, or simply the visualiser of the ideas of others, but as a figure who responds to and intervenes in the forces of power and urgency that constitute their contemporary context. Coming from Serbia had a strong influence on their work: issues such as the patriarchal bias of society seemed out of reach for a studio based in the Netherlands, but they were reluctant to over-politicise their new environment. Instead, they turned their attention to the controversial but more universal subject of social media.

Under the name TeYosh, the duo explores the behaviour of online networked communities. Separated from their old friends, they were able to see that social media activity was not a neutral depiction of how societies interact in a real space, but rather a highly regimented performance oriented towards different perceived versions of the “ideal” personality. Devoid of the nuances of body language, vocal inflection, and eye contact, our current social media platforms have encouraged the development of certain patterns of expression. TeYosh identify and explain these patterns in their constantly growing Dictionary of Online Behavior, which includes terms such as “clickvalue”, “forcie”, and “thrillification”. Ultimately, they aim to engender a more mindful engagement with social media and thus empower users to control the way it affects their offline identities.

TeYosh exemplifies the kind of creative practice whose scepticism, wit, and critical readings of contemporary technology drive them to look for opportunities outside tech firms or startups, in order to maintain distance and independence from their subject matter. Their chosen media range from animation and fashion to public speaking, engaging both audiences and collaborators in their overall research approach. They have also experimented with virtual reality, seizing on its ability to push the virtual-physical intersection further into the near future. Neither technophilic nor technophobic, TeYosh translate the role of the graphic designer to that of an anthropologist of experimental behaviours—one at the brink of rapid technological change.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Willem van Doorn
Willem van Doorn
Willem van Doorn
Willem van Doorn

Willem van Doorn

In his practice, designer Willem van Doorn brings about interaction between people, objects, and space. His work almost always calls for action and movement, making people part of a place. The characteristics and history of a place and the intention to incite people to do something are usually the starting points of a design process.

Since we are constantly overwhelmed with information that takes control of consciousness and alienates us from our immediate environment, Willem attempts to awaken people physically and rationally by means of apparently simple installations and activities. Their directness elicits a new understanding of basic human needs and the qualities of a place. Although the materials he uses may be mundane or found on location, Willem applies them unconventionally in order to achieve unexpected situations. His projects therefore capture attention, necessitating contact with the object, the place or other people present.

Many of Willem's designs emerge by creating, testing and building models and pursuing new paths of exploration. To provide input for these processes, he almost always collaborates with other artists and designers, who enrich his work with technical insight, narrative concepts, and an understanding of natural processes.

A good workplace that provides freedom and calm and is equipped to encourage inspiration is essential for Willem. That is why the heart of his practice is the workshop he set up at his family's farm in De Kwakel after graduating. This large creative environment packed with tools provides space for production, experimentation, and collaboration. As such, the farm is developing from a farming business into a test bed for ideas and designs. Willem has also developed guest accommodation at the farm. This enables other artists and designers to come and work on their own spatial projects or collaborations at the workshop, for example, either briefly or for a longer period. To build this accommodation, materials and remnants from the immediate farm environment were used.

More recently, Willem has invested in professionalizing his practice and development alongside his time- and place-related work. A new online presentation is an important part of this. Since his designs are not really suited as products for sale, but can be used at all kinds of events and places, a rental model has been set up. The workshop is also being gradually perfected. Willem still hopes to work on more spatial projects, possibly in collaboration with architects, museums or set designers.

Text: Mark Minkjan
Yamuna Forzani
Yamuna Forzani
Yamuna Forzani
Yamuna Forzani
Yamuna Forzani

Yamuna Forzani

Queer communities have been laboratories for radical cultural innovation throughout history. This was never more apparent than in the twentieth century, when increasing urban populations, changing socie-tal norms, and independent media channels fueled the growth of alternative spaces and networks of solidarity, celebration, and activism. While members of the queer community were often forgotten or denounced by mainstream society and deprived of financial and social resources, their creativity emerged in the less regimented spaces of nightclubs and art spaces. In particular, the ball culture of New York City in the 1980s provided the context not only for performance and costume design, but for cultural commentary, friendship, and AIDS awareness. It was a space to explore gender and sexu-ality with a community where such freedom would be fostered.

Yamuna Forzani, who graduated from the Textile & Fashion department at The Hague's Royal Acad-emy of Art, celebrates ball culture in a multidisciplinary practice that combines fashion, photography, dance, installation, and social design through inclusive public events. The ball becomes a shared plat-form uniting these creative methodologies, paying homage to the balls of the 1980s while also experi-menting with new formats or themes. Her Utopia Ball Fashion Show honours the ball tradition of providing a competition structure based on multiple, complex categories of performance, from “Virgin Runway” to “Executive Realness”. This variety of categories acknowledges a history in which queer members of society have sought different modes of self-expression and self-protection, as well as a new set of contemporary aesthetics. Forzani's collection of twenty-four multi-coloured knit outfits are also debuted in the ball, interweaving the design with the real-world context that inspired it. Her collec-tion is designed not to exclude any individual but to be genderful, celebrating the multiplicity of roles and identities that we embody within social structures.

By hosting such events, Forzani enacts a design practice that celebrates her interests outside of the traditional design field; she leaves space to express her artistic and political activism, as a member of the Kiki House of Angels in the Netherlands and an international member of New York's House of Comme Des Garçons. Rather than suppressing personal perspectives in accordance with an idea of “neutral professionalism”, designers today can contribute to the most important contemporary debates, from climate change and migration to automation and privacy. Forzani's work demonstrates the imag-inative and rhetorical powers embedded within creative production, and their potential to reach far beyond the design industry.

Text: Tamar Shafrir
Alissa + Nienke
Alissa + Nienke

Alissa + Nienke

From their shared fascination with the interaction between man and space, designers Alissa van Asseldonk and Nienke Bongers jointly established a design studio. They both gained their degrees from the Department of Man & Well-Being at Design Academy Eindhoven. Together they envisage sparking curiosity and facilitating spontaneous discovery in daily life through their work. They actualize this by developing tactile, interactive materials and surfaces in which sensory experience is key. For the coming year the designers have set themselves the goal of developing their studio further, in terms of content – artistic and technical – so that their designs can actually be implemented in daily life and thus contribute to human well-being. They will be therefore be enriching their knowledge by following courses in philosophy and psychology, as well as in programs such as SketchUp or Solidworks and Arduino. Furthermore, they will be developing three projects: 'BioMirror', 'Mirabilia' and 'Dangling Grid'. In addition they will develop a materials library and explore the use of stop-motion video. In order to make the work truly useful in everyday life, they are organizing public test moments and they will be collaborating with manufacturers and scientists. The designers regard these various pathways as different steps within a large-scale study that focuses on 'experience-changing surfaces'
Amy Suo Wu
Amy Suo Wu
Amy Suo Wu

Amy Suo Wu

Amy Suo Wu graduated with an MA in Media Design from the Piet Zwart Institute in 2012. Her work is almost always dominated by the political dimension of information and how information is employed by power structures. In this context Wu undertook the research project 'Tactics and Poetics of Invisibility' in 2015, in which she goes in search of tactical and innovative forms of invisibility in order to mask communications between citizens and communities. Over the coming year, Wu wants to investigate this further by concentrating on the principles of steganography, the principle within cryptography of hiding information within innocent-looking objects. Here Wu's focus is on invisible ink, as an historic medium that is no longer considered relevant by security services. In concrete terms, the research must result in an inkjet printer that uses invisible ink. In the realm of professional and artistic development, Wu is pursuing a couple of residency pathways in Beijing, Leipzig and elsewhere.
Atelier Frank Verkade
Atelier Frank Verkade

Atelier Frank Verkade

Frank Verkade graduated from the Product Design Department at ArtEZ in Arnhem in 2012. Since then, as a jewellery designer he has been fascinated by the symbiosis between different organisms, especially between human and animal. He believes that this touches upon the origins of jewellery, given that since time immemorial it was developed by primitive people in the guise of bestial and natural materials in order to assume their (mythical) powers. Nowadays, the designer asserts, the developments within bio-design are leading to increasingly blurred boundaries between humankind and technology. The makeability of the human body is thus a point of departure for his ongoing design-driven research project 'Paradise', which over the coming year he wants to expand into a multidisciplinary project in which jewellery, dance, video and photography converge. The goal that Frank Verkade has set himself for the coming year is to develop himself into a multidisciplinary designer. He will be expanding his expertise and skills by taking courses for the computer programs Rhino and CAD, film editing and working in precious metals. In addition, he will be seeking intrinsic enrichment under the supervision of the American film director Andrew Thomas Huang and designers Ted Noten and Bart Hess. He is also participating in the Artist in Residence programme at ArtEZ Product Design and various presentations are planned, such as a duo-solo exhibition at Gallery Four in Gothenburg, Sweden - a joint exhibition with Dutch Invertuals.
Benjamin Sporken
Benjamin Sporken

Benjamin Sporken

In 2014, Benjamin Sporken earned his Master's degree from the Media, Art & Design Faculty in Hasselt, with a focus on graphic design and a specialisation in type design. His design practice is characterised by a multidisciplinary approach which pays special attention to the interaction between graphic and typeface design. Benjamin Sporken believes that typography forms the communicative foundation for virtually all media, both in digital and print forms. He has notes that the development of type design appears to be stagnating, especially because there seems to be a preference for the overall legibility of letters. To contribute to the positioning and development of type design, Benjamin Sporken wants to set up his own platform, entitled ONMIN ('discord'). To put type design in a historical context, Benjamin Sporken will participate in the Expert Class Type Design masterclass. In addition, he'll seek out advice from British design agency FIELD and several forward-thinking type designers and so-called 'type foundries'. Step by step, he'll work on creating new characters, innovative production methods, applications and exhibition formats for typeface design. By starting his own type foundry, Sporken intends to challenge conventions and differentiate himself within the design field. In addition, the concept of ONMIN will give him the opportunity to create a business model that contributes to the development of his professional practice.
Chrissie Houtkooper
Chrissie Houtkooper

Chrissie Houtkooper

During her studies at ArtEZ's Fashion Masters, which she completed in 2015, Chrissie Houtkooper specialized in fashion accessories and footwear in particular. She believes that shoes are the crux of clothing and identity. Her work is characterized by personal heritage and the combination of streetwear, minimalism, modernity and craftsmanship. Experiments with materials, form and construction are central in this regard. She wants to devote the coming year to consolidating the foundations of her design practice, particularly in the realms of sustainability, craftsmanship and tradition. She therefore wants to develop two collections and scrutinize her positioning abroad. During exploratory trips to London and Japan she wants to enter into discussion with various parties and reflect on her design practice. The research into new as well as traditional techniques, materials and production methods is pivotal within the collections. She will be designing a new accessories collection – 'Modern Heritage 2.0' – that should lead to a modern interpretation of traditions. She also wants to produce a wearable accessories collection in collaboration with the fashion designer David Laport. Both collections will be presented during Paris Fashion Week and Dutch Design Week.
Christiaan Bakker
Christiaan Bakker

Christiaan Bakker

Christiaan Bakker gained his MA from the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam in 2013. As a designer, Bakker wants to tell stories by shaping spaces. Tijdens his design process he uses scale models as his principal design tool. Over the coming year Bakker will be investigating various aspects of the scale model. He thereby expects to move closer to the applicability of models in the design process. Bakker prefers to conduct research in a spatial and experimental way that proceeds from a theoretical framework. The research consists of three phases. In phase one Bakker is analysing the different aspects of the model, including function, formal idiom, proportionality and use of materials. He will then conduct a series of spatial experiments. Lastly, the insights gained will be applied in designing with models. He is deliberately leaving open the form in which the results of the research will be made manifest. During the research Bakker will be consulting with several experts from other disciplines, including a scenographer, a filmmaker, artists and graphic designers. in order to develop his technical skills in the fields of rendering and augmented reality, The designer is undertaking work placements with a photographer and an AR specialist. The designer is also consulting with two coaches in order to reflect on the whole design process.
Dieter Vandoren
Dieter Vandoren

Dieter Vandoren

Dieter Vandoren gained his MA from the ArtScience Interfaculty of the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in The Hague in 2012. Vandoren creates audiovisual installations and performances in which the bodily experience takes centre stage. The work always creates a bridge between the architectural and audiovisual experience. Besides his work as a creative, Vandoren is one of the initiators of the iii platform, which has evolved into an (inter-) national space for exchange in the realm of audiovisual art. In his development plan, Vandoren describes three components that in combination lead to a final project. Vandoren is following a residency at STEIM together with creative Mariska de Groot in order to continue developing and finalize their collaborative work LFS1. In addition, Vandoren is devising and realizing a new work with the aid of the 4DSOUND installation. With the third project he wants to embark into the realm of stage design, which involves Vandoren entering into a collaboration with a musician in order to arrive at a visual architecture that provides a spatial context for the music. The final project will be fed by the three other projects and must be a large-scale experience at the intersection of the academic and techno-culture.
Donna van Milligen Bielke

Donna van Milligen Bielke

Donna van Milligen Bielke gained her MA from the Amsterdam Academy of Architecture in 2012. In her work the architect is constantly concerned with the redefinition and positioning of boundaries, and in doing so Van Millegen Bielke operates at the boundary of architecture and urban planning, moving freely through various scales, from the architectural interior to urban fabric. Over the coming year the architect is focusing on a design-driven research project that is aimed at devising new urban typologies for Amsterdam. These typologies must make the city ready for future growth and offer an answer to the ever-increasing stream of tourists. The design-driven research includes an analysis of Amsterdam's history and context, and a series of excursions to diverse urban typologies in New York, Paris, Rome and Berlin. The architect also wants to involve a series of experts, such as Zef Hemel, Pier Vittorio Aureli, Martino Tattara and Ton Schaap, in her research as visiting critics.
Elisa van Joolen
Elisa van Joolen
Elisa van Joolen

Elisa van Joolen

Elisa van Joolen gained her MFA in Fashion Design from Parsons in New York in 2012. In her work she investigates new production methods, while at the same time calling into question the fashion industry's prevailing hierarchical value system. Her design method is therefore inspired by a new concept of production. This involves reusing, sampling and mixing existing cultural expressions, as well as cooperation and participation. Elisa van Joolen initiated the research project '11”x17”', in which she turns sections of various items of clothing, donated by fashion labels, into new garments. Over the coming year Van Joolen wants to pursue this design principle further by developing a new collection: 'One-to-One'. In this collection she will be printing garments onto other garments, so that individual features and mutual differences become evident. In addition, she will be immersing herself in alternative economic models and exploring responsible means of production, distribution and marketing. At the same time she is determined to increase the online visibility of her work, organize collection presentations at various venues, and produce a publication. Her intrinsic development will involve studying the relevant literature and establishing a dialogue with other designers, artists and curators. Lastly, Elisa van Joolen wants to explore the possibility of setting up a discussion platform, the so-called WareHouse, where designers and researchers can share ideas.
Giuditta Vendrame
Giuditta Vendrame
Giuditta Vendrame

Giuditta Vendrame

Giuditta Vendrame gained her Master in Design from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2015. Her work is situated at the intersection of design and legislation. In her design practice Vendrame wants to provoke an interchange between design and the legal system that addresses theoretical as well as practical aspects. Through design – the production and modulation of an aesthetic effect – Vendrame wants to create spaces where the dialogue about citizenship can take place. Over the coming year Vendrame wants to focus her research and interventions on three mainstays: the urban scale (the city of Eindhoven), the international scale (the River Donau), and the supranational scale (the Schengen Area). In this regard she has approached various experts, in the field of design as well as from the legal domain.
Hannah Schubert

Hannah Schubert

Hannah Schubert graduated as a landscape architect from the Amsterdam Academy of Architecture in 2015. Schubert's projects are situated at the interface of architecture and landscape. In her graduation project Schubert investigated how the power of nature can be deployed in order to gradually transform a vacant or 'failed' building into a landscape. The landscape architect wants to approach the archetype of the ruin in a non-nostalgic manner and thus generate valuable places, where nature rules and people can come and visit if so desired. For her development pathway Schubert describes three components: the acquisition of greater ecological expertise, knowledge of various representation techniques, and the dissemination of her own distinctive position within (landscape) architecture. Within these components she will call on mentors, undertake excursions, conduct design-driven research and produce presentations. Schubert wants to record her personal development in an online journal. Furthermore, the landscape architect is working on a presentation at Castle Groeneveld, where the enrichment of the design-driven research as well as the development in representation techniques can be made manifest.
Isabelle Andriessen

Isabelle Andriessen

Isabelle Andriessen gained an MA in Fine Art from Malmö Art Academy in 2015, having previously graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy and the Fashion Institute in Amsterdam. Andriessen investigates the contrast between finiteness and the desire for immortality. Transience, transformation and sensory perception are the central elements in her sculptures and spatial installations. She often works with materials that are perishable in nature and with intangible 'materials' such as light, scent and sound. Her aim is to foster a unique relationship between the visitor, the (architectonic) space and the material. The works are primarily 'site-specific' and 'time-based'. Andriessen recently conducted research at the EKWC ceramics workshop and the Royal Netherlands Academy for Arts and Sciences (KNAW). The outcomes will be made concrete over the coming year by developing and presenting various new works. In her new work she wants to investigate the relationship between architecture, consumer society and nature.
Janna Ullrich
Janna Ullrich

Janna Ullrich

Janna Ullrich is endeavouring to make complex political subjects accessible and open for discussion among a broad-based public. She makes this evident in her work in a playful way, by sketching dystopian and utopian scenarios that the public can fathom out by means of a game. For example, for her graduation project at the Sandberg Institute in 2015 she devised the 'No Man's Land' board game in conjunction with the animation film 'So You Think You Can Immigrate'. The game is based on the fictitious hyper-surveillance of current asylum policy and Europe's asylum industry. Janna Ullrich wants to use the coming period to develop the game further and professionalize her own design practice. She is therefore organizing playing sessions for experts in the realms citizenship, refugee policy and the security industry, with whom she will reflect on the content-related and conceptual elaboration of the game, calling into question the designer's own design and research method. In addition, she is taking a course in technical skills for After Effects, Cinema 4D and 3D software. She is also working with professional game developers, including Erno Eekelhout and Filip Milunski, on the game's technical improvement. Furthermore, Ullrich is working together with documentary-maker Paramita Nath and producer Karen Ella Harnisch on a gaming documentary. The game will be presented at universities, theatres, schools, companies and community centres. The designer is also working with members of the refugee collective We Are Here and the Here To Support Foundation, with the intention of testing the game against the 'reality'.
Jules van den Langenberg

Jules van den Langenberg

Jules van den Langenberg is an independent curator, exhibition maker and writer based in Amsterdam. His projects derive from ongoing dialogues with artists, architects, designers, cultural institutes and educational programmes. Key to his practice is redefining notions of representation, scripted spaces and talent with a focus on—but not limited to—the cultural field. Van den Langenberg collaborated amongst others with Sandberg Instituut, Creative Industries Fund, Van Abbemuseum, Studio Makkink&Bey, Studio Edelkoort, Het Nieuwe Instituut, Thomas Eyck, TextielMuseum, Simon Becks, Wouter Paijmans, Saskia Noor van Imhoff & Arnout Meijer, Brecht Duijf & Lenneke Langenhuijsen, Lernert&Sander, Sander Manse, Bruno Vermeersch.
Mariska de Groot
Mariska de Groot
Mariska de Groot

Mariska de Groot

Mariska de Groot gained her MA from the ArtScience Interfaculty of the Royal Academy of Art (KABK) in The Hague in 2012. In her work De Groot focuses on the realm of optical sound, which involves light being directly transformed into sound and vice versa. She often bases this on old and forgotten media, such as the humming-top and harmonograph. De Groot reveals the technology behind these historical machines by enlarging the components and dismantling them. This leads to kinetic light and sound installations in which she translates the rational into a sensitive and immersive experience. In her development plan, De Groot explains that she needs a period of research and reflection as a counterpoint to her practice. The first of the two lines of research concern the phenomenological behaviour of plasma lamps in the transformation of light into sound. The second research project stems from a personal fascination with round geometric patterns. Within this process De Groot will be investigating round patterns from all kinds of angles: anatomic, mystical, cultural. Alongside the research, she will be participating in a number of residencies, including one at STEIM that focuses on the work LFS1. In the realm of professionalization, De Groot wants to deploy a mentor to help her learn to make decisions more quickly. Furthermore, she is planning to follow a number of training courses in the field of media presentation.
Max Dovey
Max Dovey

Max Dovey

Max Dovey gained his MA in Media Design & Communication from the Piet Zwart Institute in 2015. Dovey uses performances and installations to pose critical questions about the promises and dangers of big data, artificial intelligence and the use of computers. Over the coming year Dovey will be developing a scenario-driven live action game about blockchain technology. A blockchain is a distributed database that tracks a constantly growing list of data items that are protected from manipulation and falsification. A blockchain means it is unnecessary for a third party to safeguard the trustworthiness of a transaction. The game brings players in contact with the potential significance of blockchain technology for alternative forms of economic organization and new forms of social governance. The designer is working with Professor Chris Speed (Design Informatics, University of Edinburgh). In order to develop his qualities in the field of performance, Dovey is pursuing a residency with Blast Theory, an English theatre company. He is also cooperating with the Design my Privacy initiative as he works on several publications and events about the subject of digital privacy.
Paula Arntzen
Paula Arntzen

Paula Arntzen

Paula Arntzen gained her MA in Design Products from the Royal College of Art in London in 2015. During her studies she noticed that interactive design is employed in spatial installations more often than in product design. This inspired her to explore the reasons why objects and furniture have a static character despite the opportunities that technology offers. For example, for her 'Blue Hour' graduation project she developed a collection of light objects that are programmed to perform a specific choreography. Over the coming year she wants to follow this up with the 'Performa' project, which zooms in on the discrepancy between entertainment in the public space and the static domestic environment, in which lighting and movement once again play an important role. Paula Arntzen collaborates with various professionals to realize her objects and is studying programs such as Sketchup and Solidworks. Furthermore, under the guidance of an artistic coach and a business coach she will be scrutinizing the development of her studio. Arntzen will also be presenting her work at national and international fairs. Lastly, she wants to explore the possibilities for actively participating in an international design collective.
Rasmus Svensson
Rasmus Svensson

Rasmus Svensson

Rasmus Svensson graduated from the Sandberg Institute with a Master in Design in 2013. His work comprises digital platforms, audiovisual websites, films and visual essays. Themes that he investigates include financial information systems, blockchains, legal structures and power structures, and the relationship of physical to virtual territories. In his development plan he proposes three projects in association with Hanna Nilsson. Pivotal to the 'Ambient Design Group' speculative design project are interfaces of the future that extend beyond the two-dimensional screen. With the 'Google Soil' project the designers are investigating the importance (or irrelevance) of the land with regard to our seemingly 'free-floating sharing economy'. In the 'Node Pole' project they investigate how different physical, social and financial streams move through society. They will be carrying out their research in the town of Boden in northern Sweden, which is regarded as an ideal data haven. Over the year the designers want to explore diverse domains in greater depth. They are intending to have meetings with organizations such as lock.it, Ascribe.io, CCC Chaos Computer Club, Next Nature Network, and the Ethereum Foundation. They will also be visiting specialists in the field of law and blockchain such as Florian Glatz, as well as researchers such as Tor Björn Minde of the SICS Interactive Institute, Luleå, and Michael Nilsson of Cloudberry Datacenters, Luleå. The designers will be publishing three visual essays over the year.
roomforthoughts

roomforthoughts

Jennifer Kanary Nikolov studied at the Maastricht Academy of Fine Arts and Design, then at the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam. In 2015 she gained a PhD in artistic research from the Planetary Collegium at Plymouth University, Media Arts (Electronics, Communication and Technology). In her work she investigates 'mental objects'. Nikolov is interested in psychological themes, mind-shifts and the role of subjectivist knowledge development in science. Her roomforthoughts art practice investigates the physical properties of thoughts. Over the coming year Nikolov wants to develop an interactive 'serious game' that makes use of the power of mixed media, for which she wants to create an interactive experience using virtual reality. The project bears the provisional working title 'Mindhacking Grief', and the game will respond to fears that are related to the experience of death and loss. Furthermore, she intends to produce a portable version of her earlier 'Labyrinth Psychotica' project.
Rudy Guedj
Rudy Guedj
Rudy Guedj

Rudy Guedj

Rudy Guedj is a graphic designer and illustrator based in Amsterdam. Working on commissioned and autonomous projects ranging from book and exhibition design to animation and installation works, he has been exploring the narrative possibilities of drawing through typographical, architectural, figurative or abstracted signs. Over the coming year and through various mediums, he will build up a series of collaborative projects which will explore the potential of drawing and writing as possible tools to (de/re)construct spaces through the lens of fiction. Collaborating with writers and other artists, he will publish the result of those investigations on the abstraction of language and form as a series of Building Fictions. (www.buildingfictions.com).
Ruiter Janssen
Ruiter Janssen
Ruiter Janssen

Ruiter Janssen

Ruiter Janssen gained a Master in Vacant NL at the Sandberg Institute, Amsterdam, in 2013. By visualizing data he charts out topical themes in society, so his work crosses over into the realms of journalism, information design and autonomous design. Ruiter Jansen wants to work on two projects over the coming year: Apartheid Revisited and Two Sides of New Amsterdam. Jansen wants to depict the history of apartheid in an interactive data landscape and thus increase knowledge and awareness of it among today's generation. For this project he is already working with a former South Africa correspondent and expert on apartheid, Bart Luirink. He also intends to establish a collaboration with the Rotterdam-based Bureau Buitengewone Zaken design agency. In the 'Two Sides of New Amsterdam' project the designer is investigating the process of appropriating the historical past. He argues that phrases such as 'our past' and 'in the olden days we used to...' lay a claim to history. He will use New York (formerly New Amsterdam) as an example. For this latter project the designer wants to join forces with historian Jaap Jacobs, an expert on Dutch immigrants in the USA, and others.
Simone C. Niquille
Simone C. Niquille
Simone C. Niquille
Simone C. Niquille

Simone C. Niquille

Simone C. Niquille gained her MA in Design from the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam in 2013. As a graphic designer, Niquille produces objects, films, images and strategies around themes such as personal data and the representation of the human body in virtual space. In her development plan she describes the ambition carry out research, to produce a short film, and to acquire knowledge about aspects such as game software. Elaborating upon her earlier 'Internet of Bodies' project, Niquille investigates the processes, technology and aesthetics of the digitalization of the human body. The Avatardesign design-driven research project speculates about the possible avatars which could arise in the world of social media, biometric data and motion capture.
Simone Post
Simone Post

Simone Post

Simone Post graduated from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2014. Post is a textile designer who besides running her own design bureau was also co-founder of the Envisions collective. The connecting thread in Post's work is the combination of experimental work and applying its outcomes in an industrial setting. Over the coming year she wants to specialize as well as expand. Proceeding from her experimentation and in association with industrial partners, she will be focusing on textiles and colour. She will also be conducting research into various techniques and methodologies in order to be able to combine these in her design practice. The professionalization of her design bureau occupies a key position over the coming year. Post is setting aside a substantial portion of the professionalization budget to bring in coaches to help her improve her operational management. She will also travel to India and Japan to establish collaborative partnerships with various workshops.
Sophie Hardeman
Sophie Hardeman
Sophie Hardeman
Sophie Hardeman

Sophie Hardeman

Sophie Hardeman graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy in 2015. In that same year she launched the denim label HARDEMAN, which immediately garnered plenty of international attention, and she presented her OUT OF THE BLUE collection during New York Fashion Week. Her work is distinctive for its use of denim, a workaday textile, as well as for the alienation in perspective that she introduces in her silhouettes. Furthermore, Hardeman investigates and critically questions existing conventions in the current fashion system, which primarily revolves around the economic perspective. In her collections Hardeman seeks out confrontation, in which she designates the abnormal to be a new reality. Over the coming year she wants to realize two projects: the HEROES collection, in which the human is seen as idol and as Messiah without hiding human failings, and the JEANS COUTURE project, a 'Red Carpet Event' which establishes the link with product glamorization and image accreditation.
Studio Amir Avraham
Studio Amir Avraham

Studio Amir Avraham

Amir Avraham completed his MA at the Werkplaats Typografie in Arnhem in 2015. As a graphic designer he investigates his role as an author and design as a form of writing. Over the coming year he will be specifically focusing on two projects: 'Virtual Gleaning' and 'Exterritorial Alefbeit'. The first project is a study that concentrates on the new digital forms of information and knowledge distribution. The second project is a selection from a personal archive of digital found material. The concept of the collection focuses on Hebrew script and language, which was designated a 'dead language' until the early 20th century, when its use shifted from religious contexts to a natural spoken and written language. He wants to release a publication about this in the coming year.
Studio Iwan Pol
Studio Iwan Pol
Studio Iwan Pol

Studio Iwan Pol

Iwan Pol graduated from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2014. His design process is characterized by an investigative approach focused on materials and technique. Such an experimental methodology means that the end product is not predetermined. His work is focused on sensory experience and is grounded in the physical world. By his own account, this is Pol's reaction to the neglect of the limitless possibilities of our senses and the associated astonishment in the digital age. Over the coming year Pol wants to elaborate his Happy Concrete and Fluid Walls projects, for which he is seeking to work with the University of Twente, as he primarily wants to immerse himself in the production process. Pol also envisages taking a next step with his collaborative project Envisions: being a trailblazer in the marketing of a 'process' as a product.
Studio RAP

Studio RAP

Studio RAP (Robotics, Architecture & Production) was established by architects Wessel van Beerendonk, Léon Spikker and Lucas ter Hall, all three of whom are graduates of the Faculty of Architecture and the Built Environment at Delft University of Technology (TU Delft). The cooperation is structured as a design and production studio with a focus on digital design techniques and innovative means of production. RAP describes the amalgamated role of architect and producer as the 'digital master-builder'. In its development plan Studio RAP describes how it wants to evolve and establish a profile in this role over the coming year. The studio is therefore working on a hybrid manifesto that consists of design-driven research and a survey of the literature. RAP is thus endeavouring to set the practice of digital architecture in an historical context by demonstrating that new production and design techniques always lead to new architecture. In the design-driven research these creatives combine a parametric design process with digital production in order to arrive at a full-scale prototype which embodies the vision for digital architecture. Besides perfecting the parametric design process and the digital manufacture of elements, much of the research is focused on assembling these elements with the aid of robot arms. RAP expects that the step in the digitalization and automation of production will lead to more expressive forms. The studio wants to present the results of the design-driven research at venues such as architecture centres, but also in public spaces like Rotterdam's main railway station. In the sphere of professionalizing its practice, the studio is primarily focusing on the improvement of its communications.
Studio Truly Truly
Studio Truly Truly
Studio Truly Truly
Studio Truly Truly

Studio Truly Truly

Studio Truly Truly has been invited to present a solo exhibition of their work in the Dutch Pavilion at London Design Fair in September. As well as representing Dutch design internationally, their goal is to reach a new audience and make connections in the thriving London design industry.
SulSolSal
SulSolSal

SulSolSal

The South African graphic designer Johannes Bernard gained his Master of Design from the Sandberg Institute in 2013. He runs the SulSolSal design studio together with the Brazilian architect Guido Giglio. Their practice and research connect three continents: Amsterdam (The Netherlands), São Paulo (Brazil) and Cape Town (South Africa). The design practice critically examines the paradigm of the prevailing model of global economic development. They use design projects, publications, lectures, food performances and workshops to investigate the significance of economic development for design, notably in Africa, Latin America and Europe. Over the coming year the studio wants to concentrate more on the development of its design methodology, pursue in-depth research, and produce two new works. The multi-screen film 'A Rising Tide Lifts All Boats' is a study of the role of design in marketing 'progress' in Brazil, South Africa and the Netherlands. In addition, the studio will be publishing a 'Global Crisis Cookbook' about strategies in times of crisis, making use of food culture, design and texts.
Thomas Trum
Thomas Trum
Thomas Trum

Thomas Trum

Thomas Trum graduated from Design Academy Eindhoven's Department of Man and Leisure in 2014. Trum's interests include paint and its physical properties, fields of colour and their effect on space. He experiments with tools, paints, inks and processing techniques within and outside his studio. His work consists of series of formal experiments on canvas, outside walls and paper. Over the coming year Trum is keen to conduct a series of formal and material experiments on large surfaces in the public space, such as walls, floors or ceilings. At the invitation of Koen Taselaar, in 2016 Trum is undertaking a residency at the Calcutta Art Research Foundation, where he will enrich his craftsmanship in the fields of screen printing, block printing and sign painting. In India he will also be visiting various paint manufacturers. He will be compiling the wall paintings that he creates over the year in a publication and during a presentation at the Dutch Design Week.
Ting Gong
Ting Gong

Ting Gong

Ting Gong graduated with a Bachelor of Design with distinction from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy in 2015. In her work Gong explores the boundaries of fashion design, in the guise of light installations, performances, documentaries and other forms. Instead of focusing on the creation of a product, she is more interested in experimentation and the artistic value of her work. In her graduation project the theme of invisibility is central. In a world that is brimming with images, she seeks out the 'disappearing'. The design method she devised for this has become her signature. Important aspects in this regard are the relationship between body and space, material and technique, and their translation into futuristic clothing. In her development plan Gong stresses the importance of integrating industrial materials and technology in her design practice in the pursuit of innovation. Over the coming year she wants to undertake a probing study into disappearing materials in association with TU Eindhoven.
Yaolan Luo

Yaolan Luo

Yaolan Luo is an interdisciplinary designer who gained a MA in Information Design from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2015. She had previously studied Art & Design at the Sun Yat-sen University, Guangzhou, and gained a BA in Product and Industrial Design at Central Saint Martins College in London. Her work comprises graphics, book design, product design, performances and sound experiments, and Yaolan Luo is most interested in the political, social and technological context of contemporary society. One important research project is 'Amnesia State', which she wants to carry forward over the coming year. A case of medical failure that causes the death of a student, about whom all the online comments disappeared, takes centre stage in this project. Luo wants to gain greater professionalism in the field of coded language and storytelling.
Aisha Madu
Aisha Madu

Aisha Madu

Aisha Madu graduated in 2014 from the Utrecht School of the Arts (Animation). Madu creates short humorous 2D animations. In the coming year she plans to develop a new animation film as well as several smaller works, such as illustrations and GIFs intended to complement the film. The Advisory Committee considers Madu's work convincing and consistent. In its opinion the small films reveal an individual style and are humorous and playful.
Chloé Rutzerveld
Chloé Rutzerveld
Chloé Rutzerveld

Chloé Rutzerveld

Chloé Rutzerveld graduated in 2014 with a BA in Industrial Design from Eindhoven University of Technology (TU/e). Rutzerveld is a food and concept designer who designs experimental dinners and food concepts, thus making connections between design, science, technology and culture. She uses food as a medium for making social issues a subject for debate across a broad spectrum of the public. In the coming year she intends to develop herself in the field of gastronomy, sensory and experience design. To this end she will undertake a work placement with Kitchen Theory.
David Laport
David Laport

David Laport

David Laport graduated in 2012 with a BA from the Fashion & Textile Department of the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague. In the coming year Laport intends to concentrate on research into innovative textiles and their potential groundbreaking application. For this he will undertake research in Switzerland where structures and entirely open-weave fabric can be developed. He will digitalize this textile as a virtual 3D textile. The results of this research will determine his new collection, which he plans to presents as an abstract multidisciplinary tableau vivant. The designs will be showcased by models, dancers or other people. He will also focus on the accessory.
Elejan van der Velde
Elejan van der Velde

Elejan van der Velde

Elejan van der Velde graduated from ArtEZ Arnhem with a BA in Fine Arts (2012-2014), followed in 2014 by an MA in Interior Architecture from the Department Studio for Immediate Spaces at the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam. Elejan van der Velde designs spaces from an autonomous perspective and is interested in both the physical and mental aspects of space. This leads him to investigate recollections of spaces and objects, and the traces in spaces that form a visual memory of the surfaces of the built environment. He is also interested in terms such as 'time' and 'recollection' in relation to materials. In the coming year he will focus on four projects. Firstly 'The Reminding Remains 2', a sequel to the 2014 'The Reminding Remains', a reconstruction of a recollection made from chemically bonded sand. The second project is an investigation into the never-rebuilt Sukharev Tower in Moscow which will see him collaborating with alumni and students from The Strelka Institute in Moscow. In addition at the invitation of the Galerie Ferdinanda Baumanna, he will be Artist in Residence in Prague and will take part in the Performing Arts Forum headed by Jan Ritsema.
Enzo Pérès-Labourdette
Enzo Pérès-Labourdette
Enzo Pérès-Labourdette
Enzo Pérès-Labourdette

Enzo Pérès-Labourdette

Enzo Pérès-Labourdette studied communication design specializing in illustration. He designs illustrations and textiles in which visual stories play a role. In the coming year he plans to explore new possibilities for illustrators via a podcast project 'A Room of One's Own'. In addition he will research into the ephemeral nature of news in the digital era. For this he will design wall hangings prompted by world events that have a strong cultural impact, such as the Charlie Hebdo attack or the Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 crash. In so doing he questions which stories form part of a collective history.
Eric Schrijver
Eric Schrijver
Eric Schrijver

Eric Schrijver

Eric Schrijver (Amsterdam, 1984) obtained an MA in Graphic Design from KASK, Gent in 2013. As a graphic designer, software developer and author, he takes an active role in shaping his tools. Eric develops hybrid publishing workflows, where a project is conceived both for screen and print, often in collaboration with the Brussels based design caravan Open Source Publishing. Eric has taught workshops around the world and is a tutor at the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, where he teaches coding. He directs a blog called 'I like tight pants and mathematics' that aims to motivate designers and artists to get involved in the culture of computer programming.

The Grant Programme for Talent Development enables Eric to create a publication called 'Legal Advice for Artists', an irreverent guide to copyright. LAfA provides a map for navigating the paradoxes of intellectual property today. For artists and designers copyright is a double edged sword: while makers can enjoy its protection when exploiting their own works, the creation of these works becomes difficult, as the ability to build upon the work of others has been restraint. LAfA looks at the basic parameters of copyrights: who gets it? for what work? how? and for how long? It investigates the underlying concepts of authorship and original creation. Then: how do the categories of copyright apply to different media, and what happens when a work moves from medium to medium? And how does copyright relate to the web of related legal concepts: moral rights, image rights, trademarks, patents?

LAfA wants to allow artists not just to understand copyright, but also re-claim a role in debate on the legal conditions of their profession. After all, law makers and the media industry invoke the figure of the artist to justify increased copyrights. Even cultural institutions can turn themselves against both artists and the public, by making false copyright claims on the works in their collections. LAfA hopes to be a valuable tool for of artists educating themselves in intellectual property law, who formulate their own responses to the urgent questions copyright creates today. LAfA is a legal experiment in its own right: it is illustrated with images whose right to publish is contested.
From Form
From Form
From Form

From Form

Jurjen Versteeg graduated in 2011 from the Willem de Kooning Academy in the field of Audiovisual Design. In 2012 Versteeg and the designer Ashley Govers launched the studio From Form. From Form makes both title designs and short films. The short films can have an autonomous or commercial character but, according to the applicant, always have an artistic value. Their films combine the digital with the analogue techniques, with a central focus on craftsmanship. Many of the objects in the films are designed or made by the makers themselves. In the coming year From Form intends principally to invest in tools and materials for the workplace. In addition the studio is looking to enhance its international network by attending conferences and events. Finally the studio will attend a workshop to extend its typographical knowledge.
Gabey Tjon a Tham
Gabey Tjon a Tham
Gabey Tjon a Tham

Gabey Tjon a Tham

Gabey Tjon a Tham graduated in 2012 from the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, with a Masters in ArtScience. In her work she creates installations consisting of moving machines that harness light and sound to transform spaces into sensual environments, thus spawning choreographies that can be interpreted as mechanical or natural. In so doing she generates techniques and creates mechanical sculptures that are manifested on a variety of poetical levels. Her development plan states that she wants to further develop the installation Red Horizon: a field of double pendulums where in time collective expressions are generated. She is seeking to take this further during a residency at Werktank in Leuven. She is also collaborating on the project Jumping Power Plant in which movement is transformed into light. In addition she intends to extend the scope of her knowledge of cybernetics and complex systems.
Gabriel A. Maher
Gabriel A. Maher
Gabriel A. Maher
Gabriel A. Maher

Gabriel A. Maher

Gabriel A. Maher gained her Master in Social Design from Design Academy Eindhoven in 2014. With a background in interior architecture and design education, her practice primarily concentrates on relationships between body and structure and an interest in objects and systems. Her methodology is to create situations where research and design converge in performance. Questioning design practices through queer and feminist frameworks has become a core position and approach. With the grant Maher will broaden her ongoing research to explore ties between digital representations of the body, the development of identity and the production of human subjectivity in greater depth. In this regard she will cooperate with the digital platform dazeddigital.comwhich will serve as a case study. Together with Jefferson Hack (media theorist), Alice Rawsthorn (design critic) and the Dazed team, Maher has developed digital technology – 'Seductive Criticism' – with which the body, as represented on digital platforms, can be dissected and analysed. Maher hopes to employ this to devise a new digital method for the interpretation of digital images and the presentation of cultural critique. The research will also yield a live performance that Maher will develop in Stockholm, where Iaspis – the Swedish Arts Grants Committee's International Program for practitioners in Visual and Applied Arts, Design and Architecture – has invited her for a residency.
Ivan Henriques

Ivan Henriques

Ivan Henriques is a transdisciplinary artist and researcher who makes multimedia installations. He explores hybrids of nature and (technological) culture and creates new forms of interaction between humans and other living organisms.

Waterbike is a 'bio-machine' specially designed as an ecosystem for bacteria to feed on organic materials found in water, one of the leading causes of water pollution.

Besides offering a leisurely activity, Henriques' hydraulic system cleans water by harnessing the energy generated by the rider.
Karel van Laere
Karel van Laere
Karel van Laere

Karel van Laere

Karel van Laere is a performer and film-maker who graduated from the Maastricht Theatre Academy and continued his education at the Taipei National University of the Arts in Taiwan.

Slow Rise developed out of a fascination for the endless choreographies of people moving through the city of Taipei.

Van Laerde's video depicts the mechanised movement of an escalator and the stillness of the people riding it. By introducing staged scenes, depicting behaviour other than resting, he intends to interrupt the actual choreography of mechanised movement. In doing so, he invites both the passers-by in the film and the viewer to observe a fragment of modern life.
Kim David Bots
Kim David Bots
Kim David Bots
Kim David Bots

Kim David Bots

Kim David Bots graduated in Illustration from the Utrecht School of the Arts. Bots works with a variety of media and is fascinated with narratives in a broad sense.

The collection presented here is part of an ongoing project in which Bots uses the prelude to a large-scale dramatic event within a fictitious city as the narrative framework for a book. Under the working title Prologue, he tries to provide the reader with insight into his research methods while simultaneously developing a narrative. The displayed material combines found images, photos, sketches, drawings, and other elements that are all thematically or associatively connected. Bots uses a similar approach in the making of his forthcoming book.
Kirstie van Noort
Kirstie van Noort

Kirstie van Noort

Kirstie van Noort graduated in 2011 from the Design Academy Eindhoven. Van Noort focuses on the research-based design process. She specializes in working with porcelain, striving for innovation within this craft. In the coming year she intends to further develop several projects, including collaborating with the lab Imerys Minerals in the Czech Republic, the EKWC/FabLab and with Tichelaar Makkum.
KNOL
KNOL
KNOL
KNOL

KNOL

Celine de Waal Malefijt & Jorien Kemerink

# ROOM 101 |010

Celine de Waal Malefijt and Jorien Kemerink founded the multidisciplinary design studio KNOL, after graduating from Vacant NL, a temporary programme at the Sandberg Institute.

Central to their practice is their method for questioning societal issues, whereby spatial designs are used to convey fictional scenarios to make such issues tangible. By inviting visitors into these realities, they generate new insights into the issues their work addresses.

Central to their practice is their method for questioning societal issues, whereby spatial designs are used to convey fictional scenarios to make such issues tangible. By inviting visitors into these realities, they generate new insights into the issues their work addresses.

ROOM 101 |010 addresses loneliness and its impact on health in a time in which people are more invested in virtual worlds. The installation, reminiscent of two separate hotel rooms, introduces a futuristic scenario in which visitors can connect with each other via mirrors.

By using new technologies, studio KNOL uses new technologies to propose a design narrative about potential ways of being intimate with one another. In doing so, they intend to change our perception of modern loneliness.
L.O.C.C.H.

L.O.C.C.H.

Martino Morandi graduated in Graphic Design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. He researches at the intersections of technology, politics and art. He is interested in the material conditions of technologies and their legacies.

Roel Roscam Abbing graduated in Networked Media from the Piet Zwart Institute. He is an artist and researcher interested in network infrastructure, the politics of technology, and do-it-yourself methodologies.

Morandi and Roscam Abbing are conducting a practical workshop, which aims to reflect upon the relations between the infrastructure, the protocols and the narratives of the Internet. The workshop is part of their joint research project X.25.

In the early days of the Internet before the World Wide Web's appearance as a global hegemonic network, different designs were pitched against one another to stress how they represented differences of opinion of networking, at technical, social and political levels.

In the project X.25, the X.25 protocol — the most used protocol for computer networks in the eighties — and its legacy are treated as a device to open up new histories and critical understandings of 'internetworking'. In doing so, Morandi and Roscam Abbing critically question the assumptions influencing our understanding of the Net.
Liselore Frowijn
Liselore Frowijn
Liselore Frowijn

Liselore Frowijn

Liselore Frowijn graduated from ArtEZ University of Fine Arts in Arnhem. Her work incorporates various references to art, music, and interpretations of historical and contemporary elements from other cultures.

By reusing or adjusting historical prints, Frowijn creates eccentric textiles, luxury laces, and embroideries. The textiles include hand-painted silks, embroidered textiles from India, and woven jacquards specially developed in Italy and at the TextielMuseum in Tilburg.
Her Afropolitan collection is the outcome of a collaboration with the Dutch textile company Vlisco. Her inspiration derives from Vlisco's archive of colourful and rich textiles and the Igbo people, the indigenous linguistic and cultural people of Southern Nigera. Afropolitan presents a new feminine identity with a strong sense of traditional yet innovative elements referencing other cultures.
Lotte Lara Schröder
Lotte Lara Schröder
Lotte Lara Schröder
Lotte Lara Schröder

Lotte Lara Schröder

Lotte Lara Schröder graduated in Graphic Design from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, and studied at Werkplaats Typografie in Arnhem. She uses her graphic design skills to initiate projects in her artistic practice, resulting in sound installations, performances, and drawings.

Schröder conducts research on ecological and natural phenomena such as volcanic energy and geomorphology. She aims to emphasise the more personal and poetic aspects of these predominantly scientific topics. This project explores the social relevance of deep time, a concept developed by the Scottish geologist James Hutten to define the Earth's geological time, which is more than 4.5-billion-years old.

The project Bar presents the viewer with an alternative notion of time. Derived from the concept of a tiki bar, the collection of objects and their arrangement intend to offer a more fluid understanding of artefacts and their relationship to art.
Marjanne van Helvert
Marjanne van Helvert
Marjanne van Helvert
Marjanne van Helvert

Marjanne van Helvert

Marjanne van Helvert studied textile design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy and cultural studies at the Radboud University. She explores the dynamics of theory and practice in design. Her field of interest is the relation between ethics and aesthetics in design, DIY practices, and gender politics.

Sustainability and social responsibility have become prolific buzzwords in the design discipline, generating new products, materials, and technologies designed to change the course of our future. The intrinsic design ideologies are not just a new hype; they form a fundamental part of design history reappearing throughout the previous centuries.

Initiated and edited by Marjanne van Helvert, The Responsible Object presents a history of socially committed design strategies within the Western design tradition, from William Morris to Victor Papanek, and from VKhUTEMAS to FabLab.
Mark Jan van Tellingen
Mark Jan van Tellingen

Mark Jan van Tellingen

Mark Jan van Tellingen graduated from the Sandberg Institute's Design department. He creates visual investigations of the socio-political power relationships within the information society.

seeing_from_nowhere is a short film questioning the objectivity of data and revealing the often-flawed nature of algorithms and databases. The film deconstructs the myth of objectivity, which Van Tellingen frames as 'a nowhere' — an intangible position that enables the prediction and prevention of all risk.

Using metaphor and speculative scenarios, Van Tellingen comments on the power of data in society and re-imagines a society based on an alternative understanding of data.
Mark Minkjan
Mark Minkjan

Mark Minkjan

Mark Minkjan graduated as an urban geographer. He views architecture as the physical expression of culture, social ambitions and power relations, with spatial, social and ecological effect. His vision is articulated in publications, research, education and debate; mainly via Failed Architecture of which he is the editor-in-chief, and via Non-fiction, a studio for cultural innovation. In the coming year he will focus on new forms of architectural criticism in collaboration with image makers and web developers. This will entail analysis of architectural media and talks with critics, editors and architects. Digital architecture criticism is an important spearhead of his development plan.
MengHsun Wu

MengHsun Wu

Menghsun Wu gained a BA in Industrial Design in 2007 from the National Cheng Kung University in Taiwan and went on to gain a Masters in Social Design from the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2013. His work is focused on the way people experience and feel the world by means of interactions with a variety of sensory stimuli. He is interested in rediscovering our senses and for this she intends to develop devices for practical use. His development plan consists of five phases including contextual research, sensory experiment and tool development.
Wu: "We experience the environment through our sensory organs. They generate electrical impulses according to certain stimuli they can perceive. These electrical impulses are transmitted to the brain, and then the brain interprets them into sensations. In other words, our senses is the interpretation of our brain about the electrical impulses it receives. The existence of the stimuli in the environment are more close to a type of electrical signals to our brain. Therefore, our perception of the world can be regarded as a bunch of datapoints, what our sensory organs do is to perceive the stimuli and encode them into electrical data that our brain can understand.
I assume it is possible to convert the signals generated by different sensory organs into the same formations, which means sensation can be digitalised and translated. My aim of this project is to discover the formulas of translating sensations through series of experiments and provide other perspectives of how human can perceive the world."
Olivier van Herpt
Olivier van Herpt
Olivier van Herpt

Olivier van Herpt

Oliver van Herpt gained a BA in design at the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2014. A fascination for making processes forms a central focus of his work, within which Van Herpt is looking for the interface between makeability and unmakeability. In his experiments the designer collaborates with other makers including Sander Wassink and Ricky van Broekhoven. Van Herpt has developed a 3D printer that prints clay among other things. In the coming year Van Herpt plans to experiment with other materials and techniques in order to extend the printer's scope. In addition he is seeking to manufacture the printer so that it can be sold to other bodies interested in the device. In terms of professionalization the designer intends to involve a coach with experience in heading a design office, and recruit specific financial expertise relating to the internationalization of his practice. Finally Van Herpt intends to gain a greater understanding of PR and marketing.
Winner DDA
Polina Medvedeva

Polina Medvedeva

Polina Medvedeva graduated in 2014 from the Design Department of the Sandberg Institute. Medvedeva is a Russian-Dutch designer and filmmaker. She is interested in informal economies, alternative socio-economic systems and survival strategies outside the state, all of which have their origin in the strength of the individual. This led her to make the documentary The Champagne Drinkers in which she filmed Russia's informal economy from the back seat of dozens of illegal taxis in her native city. In the coming year she will explore the informal economies of Palestine, Brazil and Ukraine. In an overarching project she seeks to question formal structures and point-up the global informal economy as a possible world economy, and the individual as the new world power. Using form experiments she questions the prevailing aesthetic and looks for an appropriate new form.
Renee Verhoeven
Renee Verhoeven
Renee Verhoeven

Renee Verhoeven

Renee Verhoeven graduated from the ArtEZ Institute of the Arts, Arnhem, and in Design Products from the Royal College of Art, London. Her fields of interest include security, digital identity, and cognitive science.

In choosing a password, we are asked to use our imagination to create something unpredictable, unique, and of a certain minimum length and character combination.

Verhoeven notes that we often remember ways to access information rather than the information itself. She also believes that remembering things becomes easier when they are bizarre, interactive, random, and, sometimes, even rude.

Her project deals with the difficulty of creating and recalling strong passwords. 128-bit Story is a digital tool that combines existing memory techniques, such as the Person-Action-Object System, and the human capability to remember information in the context of a narrative rather than dry code.
Roel Roscam Abbing

Roel Roscam Abbing

Roel Roscam Abbing graduated in 2014 with an MA in Networked Media from the Piet Zwart Institute. His practice is active on the interface between art, design and theory, whereby the significance of technology as social phenomenon forms the springboard. The projects find expression in a variety of ways including installation, text, software, workshop or photography. Roscam Abbing's development plan focuses on making new work and on internationalizing and professionalizing his practice. To realize this, the maker will collaborate with the artist Melle Smets and give presentations in institutions outside the Netherlands. Finally Roscam Abbing will explore where his practice can provide added value outside the art and culture sector.
Roos Meerman
Roos Meerman

Roos Meerman

Roos Meerman graduated from the Product Design Department of ArtEZ in Arnhem. She is interested in the relationship between research and design. As a designer she wants to investigate whether technical innovation alone is sufficient, or whether other qualities are also required, for an innovation to succeed in practice. In the coming year she intends to set up a lab that will reflect her way of working on the interface between designer and scientist. So as to pursue her material experiments the lab will be equipped with practical tools such as tradesmen's tools, a heat press, laser cutter, a 3D printer, but also tools such as an air pressure appliance, an oven, and a vacuum pump. Meerman also intends to attend a residential programme at the Institute of Making in London or the School of Art in Manchester.
Sabine Marcelis
Sabine Marcelis
Sabine Marcelis

Sabine Marcelis

Sabine Marcelis graduated as a designer in 2011 from the Design Academy Eindhoven. Marcelis works both as an independent and applied designer, focusing principally on the experience of materiality. She positions herself on the interface between fashion and architecture, and design and production. During the making process the designer frequently collaborates with producers so that design and production can enhance each other. In the coming year Marcelis intends to bring the two aspects of her practice – the independent and the commercial – more in line with each other. To this end Marcelis is launching several new collaborative ventures including with producers of glass, metal and synthetics. In terms of professionalization Marcelis plans to focus on project management and obtaining financial and legal advice.
Studio Ossidiana
Studio Ossidiana
Studio Ossidiana

Studio Ossidiana

Alessandra Covini studied in Milan and Lissabon and received her master's degree in Architecture at the University of Technology in Delft, the Netherlands. Covini aims to explore architecture through material experiments, focusing on the transposition of theoretical concepts into material creations.
Within this framework she started a series of studies on material metamorphoses. The first one of this is 'Petrified Carpets', an investigation on the relation between the oriental carpet and architecture, and its reinterpretation into a series of concrete artefacts. The project recognize the carpet, not as piece of furniture or painting, as it has been commonly considered by western art critique, but instead as an architectural archetype. The oriental carpet is for the nomad together house and temple, place of shelter and place for praying; it is an abstraction of the garden, it is a woven paradise on earth. The crafted living space of the nomad embraced artistic production, framed rituals, illustrated narratives, inducing to spirituality – aspects architecture should keep addressing. Petrified carpets, will transpose these meanings into architectural elements casted in concrete, exploring various ways to craft formworks.

Studio Ossidiana is an architectural practice founded by Alessandra Covini and Tomas Dirrix.Studio Ossidiana is currently exploring garden carpets, abstracting the garden into concrete surfaces poured in formworks made of earth.
S†ëfan Schäfer
S†ëfan Schäfer
S†ëfan Schäfer
S†ëfan Schäfer
S†ëfan Schäfer

S†ëfan Schäfer

S†ëfan Schäfer is a designer and researcher who graduated in 2012 from the Sandberg Instituut with a Master in Design. In his work he investigates the immediate coexistence of the virtual and the physical, mainly focusing on the creation of personal identity and its occurring shifts while traversing diverse media.

Schäfer's work results in various outcomes such as a music genre, instruments for image production or tangible objects, all with an immediate link between the virtual and the physical. His research is a substantial part of his work while at the same time the outcomes are equally relevant for his research, with the aim to start a dialogue with the public and connecting design to other professional fields. In the coming year S†ëfan focusses on the role of digital technology in relation to death.

Schäfer will collaborate with Emily West (BS Social Anthropology, PhD Medicine) with who he started cooperating under the name Digital Death Drive. Together they explore the notion of the continuing self, linking the physical end of life with a digital continuation. Stëfan will investigate the digital afterlife, multiplied post-mortem selves, shifts of mourning rituals and - groups, and new ways of memorialisation, influenced by global technology. For each facet of the research, he will discuss with professionals from various fields, such as funeral services, artists, developers amongst others, to get deeper insights and reflections. Schäfer will produce several artworks (for example the “Dance of Digital Death after Hans Holbein”) and give lectures about his research at various institutions (as he did in October 2015 at IMPAKT Festival Utrecht). All research, discussions, and documentation of artworks and lectures will finally come together in a physical publication with a digital afterlife.
Teresa van Dongen

Teresa van Dongen

Teresa van Dongen studied biology before graduating from the Design Academy Eindhoven. Her work focuses on sustainable developments, drawing inspiration from nature and science. She works with light as a visual translation of her exploration into alternative and natural energy sources.

Electrochemically active bacteria can emit small electrical currents in their metabolism while cleaning waste water. Van Dongen explored these specific bacteria as a means to generate electricity for domestic use. In doing so, she developed Spark of Life, a lamp that emits light without the need of an external energy source. This 'living lamp' only needs a bit of nourishment in return for its energy. Van Dongen imagines that having to feed and thus take care of it could result in a closer relationship between the lamp and its user.
Tessa Groenewoud

Tessa Groenewoud

Tessa Groenewoud graduated in 2014 from ArtEZ in Arnhem specializing in Footwear Design. She designs shoes using an experimental research-based way of working and is fascinated by technique and the properties of the material. Groenewoud is seeking to design a collection that highlights innovation in terms of comfort and functionality, or that is created using an innovative production method.
Thomas Kuijpers
Thomas Kuijpers
Thomas Kuijpers

Thomas Kuijpers

Thomas Kuijpers graduated from the Master of Photography programme at St.Joost School of Fine Arts and Design in Breda. His work examines how contemporary media communicates truths.

Thomas Kuijpers' Gesture project investigates the handshakes of political leaders and other authority figures as circulated in the media. Using press images as his source material, Kuijpers carefully selects from these particular scenes, reworking the images into an illustrated series of handshakes.

Kuijpers asked body language experts to analyse the gestures without informing them of the source. The drawings are presented together with the experts' written analyses, which explicate how these gestures convey certain messages. Kuijpers' project tests to what extent the anonymized analysis influences the viewer's judgement.
Alicia Ongay-Perez
Alicia Ongay-Perez

Alicia Ongay-Perez

Originally from London, Alicia Ongay-Perez trained at the University of the Arts London before studying Contextual Design at the Design Academy Eindhoven. She recently returned to the UK to set up her own studio and began developing her latest project, Icon-fusion.

The basis for Ongay-Perez's designs is her investigation into the properties and qualities of medium and material. In Icon-Fusion, she explores the potential of 3D printing, not as a mode of production but rather as a tool to appropriate the excessive amount of visual data available via online platforms such as Pinterest and Thingiverse. At a time when objects are defined more by their iconography than their use value, Ongay-Perez critically explores the importance of appropriating such data for generating form. Her studies of domestic objects led her to develop an app that generates teapots based on existing items, ranging from iconic designs to graphic representations of physical objects. Icon-Fusion is a digital tool that translates objects into abstract point clouds, allowing the user to morph between two distinct forms and pause the process to create a seemingly infinite number of intermediary hybrids. The app allows its users to speculate on the emergence of a new generation of derivative works based on iconic twentieth-century designs.
Amber Veel
Amber Veel
Amber Veel

Amber Veel

It was in Amber Veel's previous occupation as a nurse that she developed a fascination for skin, and this became her subject of research while studying at the Textile Department of the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. After graduating, she developed various craft techniques and became a skilled taxidermist.

For Tanning Studies, Veel developed several methods for preserving skin. The result is an archive of material studies on the vegetal tanning agents of plants and trees and a collection of tanned protein shells and silks. Mantle explores the meaning and value of wearing animal skins in other cultures. Through her case study on Inuit customs, she discovered how their hunting traditions, with its rituals and habits, are the result of survival and self-reliance. Their hunting rituals and, in particular, using the skin of the hunted animal has the cultural function of respecting the animal and the environment. The animal's skin is carefully preserved and, with great craftsmanship, made into a traditional garment. Through this practice, the Inuit pay posthumous tribute to the hunted, and by wearing the garment, they become one with the animal. Inspired by her research and with the desire to experience the ritual, Veel made a special mantle out of rabbit furs.
Anne Dessing
Anne Dessing

Anne Dessing

Anne Dessing graduated from Academy of Architecture in Amsterdam in 2012. Dessing's work examines alternative models for living in atypical environments.
Whereas her project Surrounding Articulations focussed on the development of single-family houses in Amsterdam, Dessing's Pairi Daeze project proposes an innovative way to inhabit Amsterdam's Rembrandtpark and is aimed at those who would like to live in natural surroundings. This design overhauls top-down planning approaches that have lead to outcomes such as the asphalt path that currently cuts through the Rembrandtpark. Dessing wants to make liveable environments that allow their inhabitants to foster intimate relationships with the physical surroundings. Pairi Daeze is the result of a three-month trip and artist residency in Karachi, India. The residency was a source of inspiration for ideas to implement in Amsterdam.
Anton Lamberg
Anton Lamberg
Anton Lamberg

Anton Lamberg

Anton Lamberg is a graphic designer who graduated from the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague in 2012. His work focuses on data visualisation and its underlying structures and systems.

Looking Back at You strives to unfold our view of society by revealing the patterns of our online posting behaviour. Lamberg created a system in which related words, images, colours, and locations are linked without any human intervention. This system uses natural language analysis and learning algorithms to find correlations in texts and images. The system trains itself to recognise content and uses this to understand new content.

Lamberg's project provides insight into the amount of data we share about ourselves and explores what we can do with this kind of data beyond commercial or political applications. Using social media postings combined with online news, comments, and other online participation, Looking Back at You portrays eight months of activity on Dutch social media.
Arnout Meijer
Arnout Meijer
Arnout Meijer
Arnout Meijer

Arnout Meijer

#Light is a Vector (Projecting a Line) and Every Light series–Every Cone, Every Torus, Every Cylinder

Arnout Meijer graduated from the Man and Activity Department of the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2012. His latest work continues his research into the perception of light and the role it plays in forming our understanding of space. Rather than focusing on the object, Meijer's design process begins with an understanding of light and its potential to shape an experience that changes depending on one's spatial position. His light objects are simultaneously light installations.

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Alongside developing series of lamps, Meijer published the short essay 'The Realism of Illusion', which describes how optical illusions are not just temporary exceptions but rather the fundamental basis for shaping reality as we see it.

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Barbara Langendijk

Barbara Langendijk

What makes a product sell en masse? How can a mass-produced product be personalised? The For Sale project by fashion designer Barbara Langendijk uses one of the more basic pieces from her collections – a translucent turtleneck – as a tool for challenging our perception of the value of mass-produced goods. The series of garments represent the steps Langendijk took during her research process. Pursuing her interest in the Japanese kimono, Langendijk travelled to Japan, where she immersed herself in traditional crafts, natural materials, and recycling techniques. This research was used for her debut collection, Riches From Rags, which was subsequently shown at Amsterdam Fashion Week. Like her other work based on contemporary and traditional crafts, this collection demonstrates Langendijk's care for garment construction.
Bennie Meek
Bennie Meek
Bennie Meek
Bennie Meek
Bennie Meek

Bennie Meek

Bennie Meek initiated the Living Pavement research project while studying Social Design at the Master Department of the Design Academy Eindhoven. Meek is predominantly interested in our relationship to nature in the urban environment.

Through his research, Meek realised local governments spend enormous amounts of money on maintaining planted urban greenery and removing spontaneous vegetation. For Meek, it is the urban environment's loss to remove the plants that grow freely within it.

Meek's Gewildgroei paving system challenges our understanding of weeds. The Dutch word for weeds, onkruid, also means unwanted, spontaneous vegetation. By introducing the antonym gewildgroei, which translates as wanted weeds, Meek confronts established attitudes towards unplanned vegetation in the urban environment. By facilitating the growth of gewildgroei using redesigned pavement tiles, he changes the perception of weeds and the fact they are considered weeds in the first place.

Working in collaboration with Vincent Wittenberg, they initiated the Gewildgroei project, which aims to facilitate a shift in attitude and enable a transition from urban greenery to urban nature. Meek believes that design can promote common goals and help implement new modes of thinking. Therefore, Meek has designed a mobile factory to inform the public about the project and its aims.
Bora Hong

Bora Hong

Bora Hong obtained her MA in Contextual Design from the Design Academy Eindhoven with her research on beauty, cosmetic surgery, and the body. Her ongoing research project, Cosmetic Surgery Kingdom, questions the practice of cosmetic surgery and the extent to which modifying the body undermines individuality.

Hong questions the role of beauty in contemporary design by comparing the practice of cosmetic surgery to tendencies in design. Before & After takes ordinary objects, such as vintage chairs and cheap plastic goods, and transforms them to resemble iconic designs such as the Eames LCW Chair. Like a cosmetic surgeon, Hong operates on these objects, giving them new and iconic bodies.
Christa van der Meer

Christa van der Meer

Christa van der Meer graduated in 2013 from the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, in Textile and Fashion Design. The work of Christa van der Meer is characterized by a combination of 2D and 3D designs. The basis of her collections are portrait drawings, which serve as a starting point for both outfits and paintings. The collections are inspired by folklore from other countries or cultures, mainly in Africa and Asia. The fabrics that Van der Meer uses are mostly made or processed by herself. In her graduation collection 'Iminjunju' she used batik techniques and screen prints to transfer drawings to textiles. In her development plan, Van der Meer writes that she wants to create a new collection, consisting of seven outfits and a series of paintings, which builds on the path she took with her graduation collection. She will not present these during a show, but by means of a visual presentation in photos and/or film. For this she will work together with David Joosten and Freek Zonderland. She also wants to strengthen her practice by building up a larger network. Among other things, she plans to do a residency at A Word of Art in Cape Town.
Commonplace Studio
Commonplace Studio
Commonplace Studio

Commonplace Studio

Commonplace Studio is the design practice of Jon Stam and Simon de Bakker. Their work focuses on context-driven objects, quality craftsmanship, and quiet interactions.

Lumière is a series of light installations that project moving images, from the serene to the sublime, onto the inner surface of glass bulbs. The double meaning of Lumière – referring both to the French word for light and the inventors who popularised modern cinema – is reflected in the lighting's dual function. Powered by a network of custom-built projectors that can change, update, and add new content, the installation acts as a medium for the evocation of memories. The horizon in this series is both majestic and commonplace. Its repetition, the minute colour changes, and the intentional lack of narrative captivates the viewer and allows them to conjure up their own stories of other places and times.
Donna Verheijden
Donna Verheijden
Donna Verheijden
Donna Verheijden
Donna Verheijden

Donna Verheijden

Donna Verheijden graduated from the Sandberg Institute in 2013 with a master's degree in Graphic Design. Verheijden's interests include the workings of mass media, their temptations and underlying power strategies. In her film 'All the World's a Stage - Ways of Seeing', she reflects on contemporary apparently staged realities and analyzes and criticizes the seductive power of media images. Verheijden will be focusing on the development of storytelling in the coming year. To this end, she is working specifically on two projects directed at the relationship between the individual and the masses, between private and public. The film project 'Land of Desire' investigates the contemporary, ever-growing consumer society in the West and other regions. Verheijden considers how desire determines our behaviour and what role the contemporary media play in this. The second project Verheijden wants to work on is Cinema Arlecchino, about an abandoned cinema on Lake Maggiore in Switzerland. Her research will result in a short film and a live event in which the film will be accompanied by a live performance by the Il Profondo Ensemble.
Femke Herregraven

Femke Herregraven

Femke Herregraven graduated from the Sandberg Institute in 2010 with a master's degree in Design Research. In her work, the designer uses her artistic research method to provide insight into financial and economic subjects in particular. The results of these studies lead to various end products, such as a game, data visualization or a concept for a bank, adapted to the underlying question. However, the research process and the form of the research are just as much an end product. Femke aims to achieve public dialogue by setting up open research processes. In the coming year Femke wants to study even more deeply the financial constructions that make our global economy. She is focusing specifically on offshore constructions and the separation of capital and physical locations. Femke is investigating the colonial history of the island of Mauritius and its role as a tax haven. In addition, the designer would like to develop herself more broadly in the field of media. In addition to graphic design, she wants to master photography, video, website creation and games.
FredfarrowBrittavelontan
FredfarrowBrittavelontan
FredfarrowBrittavelontan

FredfarrowBrittavelontan

Britta Tan graduated in Fashion Design at ArtEZ Institute of the Arts, Arnhem in 2010. Together with Fred Farrow, she founded the fashion label Fredfarrowbrittavelontan, which focuses on developing sustainable ways to create new materials using traditional crafts.

Accidental Accumulative Outcome emerged from a process of experimenting and working with time-consuming handcrafts such as shibori, batik, hand printing, and knotting. The resulting series of garments are made using natural dyes and eco-friendly fabrics and are intended to express the studio's philosophy that clothing should not be a disposable product.

FredfarrowBrittavelontan rework, combine, and collage fabrics. The designers believe there is more than one ideal outcome, and experiments should not be discarded but rather saved and reworked.
Gijs de Heij
Gijs de Heij

Gijs de Heij

Gijs de Heij graduated in 2013 from ArtEZ Arnhem in Media & Graphic Design. De Heij is a graphic designer and programmer of open source software. Among other things, he researches the working and possibilities of fonts. In his work he operates at the interface of politics, design and technology. For example, he realized an installation of two pen plotters opposite each other, one writing quotes from 'candidate' Obama, the other reacting with a quote from 'president' Obama. They take turns writing a letter, which is signed. In the coming year he wants to develop a new version for digital handwriting that works on the pen plotter and also in a browser. In addition to technical research, he focuses on the political and social implications relating to the working of protocols that institutions use to communicate with each other, banking transactions, official cables and the operation of drones. In a broad sense, the research focuses on security and authenticity in today's digital society. De Heij will be attending Atypi, a conference on typography in Barcelona and the Libre Graphic Meeting in Leipzig, among others.
Henriëtte Waal
Henriëtte Waal
Henriëtte Waal
Henriëtte Waal

Henriëtte Waal

Henriëtte Waal works at the intersection of participatory design, anthropology, and community art. By adopting the role of mediator and ethnographic researcher, Waal strives to delineate the social dynamics between people and their relation to their surroundings.

Waal's Mien Blééch bottles result from her research into the abundance of high-quality drinking water in the Belgian part of Limburg due to the area's mining past. Despite this abundance, local inhabitants prefer bottled water. In addition to the Mien Blééch bottle's primary function of carrying water, Waal's design functions as a cultural artefact that symbolises the forgotten coal-mining heritage. The shape and size of these containers derive from the water bottles local miners used to take underground before the mine closed in 1987.

#NIMBY Toilet – Outhouse and fermenting toilet

Another of Waal's projects works with contemporary forms of self-organisation in the modern urban environment. The NIMBY Toilet is a urine-fermenting dry toilet that utilises Lactobacillus cultures derived from homemade pickled cabbage. Originally designed for allotment gardeners, this product utilises the potential of lactic acid fermentation to provide an alternative to chemical fertilisers. This urine-fermenting toilet enhances the self-sufficiency of allotment vegetable gardens. The dry toilet chair reinterprets Enzo Mari's 1974 Sedia 1 chair, originally developed as a theoretical and practical DIY exercise for students. The NIMBY Toilet aims to be an educational tool and a conversation piece, inviting people to think, learn, and exchange through doing.

#Untitled–Sketch for unpublished book

To expound upon her working methods, Waal is developing a book that elaborates on forms of engagement with social issues and environmental concerns. The book is made in collaboration with Clemens Driessen, a philosopher and researcher at Wageningen University who specialises in animal and environmental ethics, and designed by Koehorst in 't Veld.
Henrik van Leeuwen
Henrik van Leeuwen
Henrik van Leeuwen
Henrik van Leeuwen

Henrik van Leeuwen

Henrik van Leeuwen graduated from the Sandberg Instituut in 2010. By addressing issues regarding power structures in the domains of information and communication networks, his work uses graphic images and installation to visualise and reveal the power dynamics and mechanisms that are at play between corporate, private, and governmental institutions. From this inquiry and analysis, Van Leeuwen considers disputed and ethical questions regarding the role of users and participants.

With the introduction of 5G, flat fees, and the end of roaming, The Treasure Bands deals with who can or potentially will own global communications and data connections. The installation visualises the most expensive radio frequencies used for wireless communication within a locality. By using information obtained from the viewer's wireless device, this project reveals who owns the exclusive licenses to specific frequencies, how much the licences cost, when the frequencies were acquired, and other relevant factors that influence the value of the licences such as bandwidth and local metadata. How does this ownership affect the user's 'rights' and 'duties' while using these networks?

Spying on Societies is Normal takes inspiration from 'Snowden and the Future', a three-hour lecture by Eben Moglen, Professor of Law and Legal History at Columbia University and founder of the Software Freedom Law Center. Moglen's lecture provides insight into the history of spying, its current and future status, whistleblowing, and the control of communications after Edward Snowden's NSA revelations. Van Leeuwen believes the lecture deserves a broader audience due to the urgency of its subject matter. Therefore, together with Robbert Klein, he is adapting Moglen's lecture into a series of short animated films. Thus far, he has realised a trailer for a crowdfunding campaign to help complete the series.
Hozan Zangana
Hozan Zangana
Hozan Zangana

Hozan Zangana

Since childhood, Hozan Zangana has been fascinated with ancient Kufi calligraphy, a seventh-century script whose name derives from the city of Kufa in Iraq. In collaboration with his mentor, Thomas Milo – a typographer specialising in Arabic and Persian font design – Zangana has designed a typeface for a digital font. In doing so, Zangana speculated on what inspired the creators of Kufi calligraphy. How did they create such minimal, intelligent, and beautiful shapes?

These deliberations informed Zangana's interest in ancient Mesopotamic and Persian sculptures dating from the fifth to the seventh millennium BC. He was struck by the resemblance between these sculptures and the calligraphy. Is it possible that the creators of Kufi calligraphy used sculptural art as inspiration? Could this have been a way for calligraphers to maintain the region's heritage in times of political turmoil?

Within the eras Zangana studies, creative expression was limited by religion's dominance. Art survived largely through two-dimensional practices, such as carpets, mosaics, and miniatures. Zangana's work examines whether he can design three-dimensional objects using Kufi Calligraphy as inspiration.
Jelle Mastenbroek
Jelle Mastenbroek
Jelle Mastenbroek

Jelle Mastenbroek

Jelle Mastenbroek graduated from the Design Academy Eindhoven in 2012. He is a member of Collaboration O, where he works as an independent designer and collaboratively with the other studio members.

Taking a humorous and playful approach, many of Mastenbroek's works reveal a nostalgic perspective on our relationship to money. He uses storytelling as a tool to reflect on society, often resulting in interactive installations made in collaboration with musicians, composers, and programmers.

Frank is a cuckoo clock featuring an animated character called Frank. According to Mastenbroek, Frank is an expert on time and being punctual; he is never too early or too late. Mastenbroek's project offers a playful perspective on our ideas about managing the daily nine-to-five routine.
Jesse Howard

Jesse Howard

After graduating in Mathematics from Colorado College in the United States, Jesse Howard continued his education at the Gerrit Rietveld Academy's DesignLAB. His graduation project, Transparent Tools, consists of a set of household appliances that enables the user's active involvement in producing, repairing, and modifying their own products. As a designer and researcher, Howard's interests are in proposing alternative scenarios for the relationship between designers, producers, and users. Through his work, he challenges the industry standard of secrecy surrounding the production of products, the rights to which are typically guarded and owned by a single manufacturer or company.

By embedding products with the information needed for their reproduction, Cloning Objects offers an alternative development to the standard model of the production, manufacturing, and distribution of goods. Scanning an object with a software interface allows a user to 'inspect' the components of the object, which reveals the object's digital 3D-definition, files for reproduction with digital fabrication tools, information and schematics for electronic components, and the source code for any software used to control the object.

Howard's approach offers a new paradigm, wherein objects and their components are made accessible at an individual level. This approach empowers users to freely share, modify, and redistribute objects as they please.
Jonas Lund

Jonas Lund

Jonas Lund is a Swedish contemporary media artist based in Amsterdam. He gained an MA from the Piet Zwart Institute and a BA from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy. Lund makes paintings, sculpture, photography, websites, and performances. His works result from data that he extracts from his studies of art-world trends and behaviour.

Realised through a series of algorithms and personality profiling techniques, I Wish I Had Someone With Whom I Could Share is part of his Profiles series in which works of art are tailored to specific individuals.

The work imagines a future in which nothing is left but old computers desperately seeking human company. Presenting the viewer with 36 questions based on a questionnaire that aims to make two random strangers fall in love with each other, the interrogations are intended to create longer lasting bonds than the typical lifespan of a human-computer relationship. A mesmerising overlay of network inspired imagery depicts the ever-changing nature of human-to-computer interactions.
Joris Strijbos
Joris Strijbos
Joris Strijbos

Joris Strijbos

Joris Strijbos is a Rotterdam-based artist whose work focuses on the synaesthetic relationship between moving image and sound. Inspired by research into cybernetics, emergent systems, artificial life, and communication networks within groups, his work consists of kinetic audio-visual installations and new-media performances. His installations combine artificial, electronic, and digital media with models and algorithms based on biological systems. In many of his works, the viewer witnesses a process in which machines, computer programs, and the physical world interact, resulting in a generative and multi-sensorial composition.

Joris Strijbos gained his BA in ArtScience from the Royal Academy of Art in The Hague and his MA at the Royal Conservatory of The Hague.

Assmann and Strijbos are part of Macular, an artist collective researching the intersection of art, science, technology, and perception. The duo collaborated on two projects in the past year.

Moiré Studies is a kinetic light installation based on the principles of the moiré effect. The qualities of moiré patterns are physically investigated using moving light sources and static grids.

In December 2014, the duo participated in the Ars BioArctica residency programme at the University of Helsinki's Kilpisjärvi Biological Station in the sub-Arctic region of Finland. They researched the cinematic qualities of freezing soap film and developed the video installation Liquid Solid. With the wind and temperature significantly varying each day, the film captures the differing behaviour and appearance of the freezing process. The soundtrack incorporates a mixture of recordings made using self-made instruments, including monochords played with electromagnets.
Maison the Faux
Maison the Faux
Maison the Faux

Maison the Faux

After graduating from the ArtEZ Institute of the Arts in Arnhem, Joris Suk and Tessa de Boer founded the creative studio MAISON the FAUX in 2013. The studio aspires to be an affectionate reaction to the contemporary fashion industry. Underscored by a sense of humour and self-mockery, MAISON the FAUX believes in fashion's liberating potential.

Their C'est vrai ou c'est FAUX? collection asks: what is real, what is fiction, and what does MAISON the FAUX want you to think is real? As in their previous collections, they employ fashion clichés to trigger the concepts for their collections and shows.

Transparency and the authenticity of fashion are important themes for MAISON the FAUX. C'est vrai ou c'est FAUX? employs a mix of high-street and intricate high-fashion references; where tracksuits masquerade as couture pieces and exquisite fabric manipulations and embroideries reign supreme. Many of the collection's garments feature Trompe-l'œil prints, making it difficult to distinguish between printed embroidery and true craftsmanship.
Marjan van Aubel
Marjan van Aubel
Marjan van Aubel

Marjan van Aubel

Marjan van Aubel gained her MA in Design Products from the Royal College of Art in London in 2012, after completing her BA at the DesignLAB of the Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam in 2009. As a designer, Marjan van Aubel has set herself the objective of kick-starting social change and creating an awareness of the use of energy. In her work she searches for innovative, natural and aesthetic ways in which new materials and technologies can be integrated into everyday utensils. For example, within her 'Current' collection she has designed a table and a window that generate electricity autonomously by using dye-sensitized solar cells in the surfaces. Over the coming period Marjan van Aubel wants to continue with her investigation and integration of solar cells, light mapping, and developing new self-supporting objects that enter into a relationship with each other and the surroundings. She also wants to investigate the effect of light on humans and develop a technique that makes it possible for objects to automatically adapt the amount of light to a situation or environment. The new applications will be integrated into windows and tables as part of the 'Current' series. The research results will be presented in exhibitions. At the same time she will continue developing prototypes into utilitarian objects for production. Marjan van Aubel is thus endeavouring to create a self-supporting ecosystem in which the user takes centre stage.
Mark Sturkenboom
Mark Sturkenboom

Mark Sturkenboom

Mark Sturkenboom graduated in 2012 from the ArtEZ Arnhem in the field of Interior and Accessories. Sturkenboom points-up - sometimes provocatively - the relationships between products and their users. For instance he made a gold and glass urn that is intended for sexual activity. Sturkenboom also designed a vase intended for keeping valuable possessions with an in-built system that breaks the vase. This vase refers to the way Jewish families supposedly kept their valuable possessions. In his development plan Sturkenboom writes that he wants to produce a series of new works grouped under the collective name 'Paradigma'. One of the works is a self-destroying boat on which a dead person's material remains can be destroyed. The designer also intends to take advice from Cornel Bierens about how to develop his design practice. In addition he plans to make new work during an artist-in-residence placement. The results of the project are to be presented during the Milan 2015 Salone del Mobile.
Matthijs Munnik
Matthijs Munnik

Matthijs Munnik

Matthijs Munnik graduated in 2012 from the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, in the field of ArtScience. Munnik makes audiovisual installations and performances. In his work Munnik creates sensory experiences from phenomena that are normally beyond our perception. His graduation work was an installation with coloured strobe light in a white space that created a hallucinatory effect through the physiology of the eye. In the coming year Munnik intends to focus on three aims: realizing new projects, extending his theoretical understanding, and professionalizing his studio. In the Art & Space Initiative Munnik wants to foster collaboration between artists and scientists who are interested in space, and for this he has joined forces with ESTEC in Noordwijk. The installation 3600 Orbits is a project with lasers in the landscape which gives the position, in real time, of some of the many satellites in space. The lasers are used to connect the earth to the satellites. Munnik will also investigate how to make local and temporary 'walls of light' that appear with the aid of LED lights and water damp. In addition Munnik wants to expand his knowledge of electronics, astronomy and liquid dynamics. In the theoretical field he intends to acquire greater in-depth knowledge of cybernetics.
Maurizio Montalti
Maurizio Montalti
Maurizio Montalti

Maurizio Montalti

Maurizio Montalti graduated in 2010 from the Design Academy Eindhoven IM Master course Conceptual Design in Context. In the coming year Montalti wants to continue developing the project The Growing Lab – Mycelia. The project is an on-going exploration of the possibilities of micro-organisms, such as mould, being harnessed as potential for new materials, production methods and its application in the field of design and architecture. He seeks to put forward a radical new methodology that he calls 'growing design'. In his opinion innovative materials, production processes and technology are vital for a shift to take place from a consumer society to a conscious, sustainable society. Montalti collaborates with experts in the fields of design, science and agriculture, and his partners include the University of Utrecht and CNC Exotic Mushroom BV. Based on his research, Montalti is finally realizing a collection of products that are being showcased at several exhibitions and events.
Nicky Assmann
Nicky Assmann
Nicky Assmann

Nicky Assmann

Nicky Assmann graduated in 2011 from the Interfaculty of the Royal Conservatoire and the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, with a Masters in Art Science. In her work Assmann experiments with the properties, behaviour and aesthetics of materials such as liquid soap, liquid crystals and metals. Her work also reveals an interest in how the human senses perceive these materials and natural phenomena. This phenomenological approach is expressed in different media, such as wearable technology, audiovisual performances and kinetic installations. Sensory experience forms the central focus of these installations. She draws her inspiration from phenomena such as reflection, refraction of light, crystallization, oxidation, turbulence and iridescence. In the coming year Nicky seeks to extend her knowledge of materiality by means of literature research, attending symposia, lectures and masterclasses. She also intends to produce a written reflection on her own work and encourage feedback from other artists, makers and mentors, including Tina Frank and Maria Verstappen. In addition she is inviting a writer/theorist to write about her work. Alongside this theoretical aspect, Nicky wants to develop her practical knowledge by taking part in a conference in London, among other things. For her artistic development Nicky is focusing on the project Solstice that explores how the above-mentioned phenomena are manifested in large frozen soap bubbles. For this Assmann will go to Finland where cold temperatures essential to the freezing process are a regular feature. Finally Nicky is to carry out another research into oxidation processes and into moiré patterns.
Noon Passama Sanpatchayapong
Noon Passama Sanpatchayapong
Noon Passama Sanpatchayapong

Noon Passama Sanpatchayapong

Passama Noon Sanpatchayapong graduated in 2010 from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, in the field of Jewellery Design, and in 2013 from ArtEZ, Arnhem, in Master Fashion Strategy. The theme of identity is the interlinking element in Sanpatchayapong's jewellery. The form, material and technique used to produce the jewellery are not fixed but are determined by the intended end result. Sanpatchayapong works with fabrics and precious metals, among other things. In his development plan Sanpatchayapong writes that he wants to build on his work with necklaces, linked to identity. Following on from his last series of portrait broaches, the designer is to explore how someone's identity can be translated into a more abstract object. In addition Sanpatchayapong wants to investigate how necklaces can radiate a brand identity. A preliminary research has convinced the designer that many major brands do not explore this aspect in sufficient depth. Sanpatchayapong will present the results during solo shows in the Jewelers' Werk Galerie in Washington and at the ATTA Gallery in Bangkok.
Ricky Rijkenberg
Ricky Rijkenberg

Ricky Rijkenberg

Ricky Rijkenberg graduated in 2011 from the Amsterdam Academy of Architecture in the field of Architecture. In her work Rijkenberg operates on the interface of photography and architecture. Her interest lies in the experience and memories that certain spaces and locations evoke. This led her to seek out the hidden workplace P402 in the New Dutch Waterline. In the coming year she wants to analyse the relationship between space and image in greater depth for her experimental research-based design Vergessene Räume – Schuldige Orte. She seeks to re-document and represent spaces with invisible traces, in the form of a so-called scenario of archetypes, photoworks and models. She has chosen the area between Western and Eastern Europe as her field of research. Rijkenberg is setting up a sounding-board group made up of an architect, photographer, editor and philosopher. She will also take up work placements and enter into collaborative ventures with paper designers, costume makers and fashion photographers.
Ricky van Broekhoven
Ricky van Broekhoven
Ricky van Broekhoven
Ricky van Broekhoven

Ricky van Broekhoven

Ricky van Broekhoven graduated in 2012 from the Sandberg Institute in Amsterdam with a Masters in Interior Architecture. Van Broekhoven sees himself as a designer, researcher and musician. The designer seeks to use his spatial interventions to make sound visible. This places his work on the interface of sound design and spatial design. Ricky has outlined three projects that are intended to enhance his artistic and conceptual development as a professional designer. SoundShapes is an exploration into Chladni resonance patterns. When the patterns are translated into a spatial form, which is then harnessed to produce sound, a special kind of speaker is created. Van Broekhoven wants to continue developing this design – thus extending his understanding of the technical side of speaker production - and collaborate with producers. The second project, Hands Off, is a collaborative venture with designer Niek Pulles to make an installation for the Museum for Arts and Crafts in San Francisco. This installation collects and reacts to heartrate data of visitors. The development plan's third trajectory concentrates on documenting and sharing research. In addition the designer will focus on professionalizing his practice by increasing his knowledge of marketing and PR, and software.
Rogier Arents
Rogier Arents
Rogier Arents
Rogier Arents

Rogier Arents

Rogier Arents graduated in 2012 from the Design Academy Eindhoven in the field of Man and Well Being. Arents is fascinated by science, knowledge dissemination and the significance of image within the scientific disciplines. He has realized a number of projects in which scientific knowledge is translated into an accessible visual language. Arents is seeking to develop as a visual communicator of science. In the coming year he will focus on developing innovative visualization methods; this entails carrying out graphic research and interactive research aimed at new digital technologies. In addition he intends to research the potential role of the designer in science, as well as attend international symposia, such as Pariscience and Data is BTIFL and the Push conference. Moreover he will develop the platform The Pictorial Lab and organize a series of table discussions entitled 'Dialogues'. He intends to make his research accessible via a publication and an exhibition.
Sander Wassink
Sander Wassink

Sander Wassink

Sander Wassink graduated in 2012 from the Design Academy Eindhoven in the field of Man & Living. Wassink's interests include present-day aesthetics, copyright and the significance of image versus object, production methods, distribution and sales strategies. In his work he explores the possibilities and qualities of current alternative systems. Last year he created a fictitious shoe shop at the Beijing Design Week, which saw him collaborating with local shoemakers to create new models using imitation brands as raw material. In the coming year he is seeking to further develop his projects Stacked Series and Geographic Production. He will also return to China to realize new projects, including the project 'Outsources Lifestyles'. The Chinese-Western production system and the absurdity of the so-called Outsources Lifestyle form the key determinants.
Sjoerd ter Borg
Sjoerd ter Borg

Sjoerd ter Borg

Sjoerd ter Borg graduated in 2013 from the Sandberg Institute at Studio Vacant NL. Ter Borg says that he designs 'creative interventions for the public sector'. He studied political science at the University of Amsterdam and interior architecture at the Sandberg Institute. In his work Ter Borg strives to connect the two worlds of design and the public sector. For the project Publishing Vacancy he researched legislation at a national level and took over the management of vacant spaces himself. He invited writers to come and occupy the vacant premises and write stories. Collaborating with other designers and experts is characteristic of Ter Borg. In the coming year he wants design-based research to play a more prominent part in government policy. He will focus on two projects: the first will explore the Marine Land Amsterdam for which he will generate design interventions that link up with the transformation brief for that area; the second targets the Ministry of Education, Culture and Science. Ten Borg wants to carry out design-based research into the policy theme study success. For this he intends to visualize relevant data and develop future scenarios.
Thomas Vailly
Thomas Vailly

Thomas Vailly

Thomas Vailly graduated in 2011 from the Design Academy Eindhoven in the field of Contextual Design. In his work Vailly takes production processes out of their natural context and applies them in other environments or to other materials. He uses the human body as 'production factory'. In a recent collaboration with Laura Lynn Jansen he used algae and other organisms taken from a river to provide a coating for products. Pivotal to this is material research. In his development plan Vailly writes that he wants to extend the depth and scope of his current practice, both in terms of content and business practice. He intends to target new cross-sector collaborations with designers, while at the same time seeking to evolve personally as an alchemist designer. In addition Vailly will use a number of projects to undertake material research into new sustainable forms of plastic, and seek design applications for these innovative materials. He will also try to find an alternative for fossil fuels. Vailly will present the results of his different research activities during the Dutch Design Week and the Salone del Mobile in Milan.
Tuomas Markunpoika
Tuomas Markunpoika

Tuomas Markunpoika

Tuomas Markunpoika graduated in 2012 from the Design Academy Eindhoven in the field of Contextual Design. Markunpoika's work translates the temporality of life into objects, thereby offering an alternative to objects that are made to be preserved for eternity. His graduation project Engineering Temporality consists of objects which, for the greater part, are burnt after being produced. What is left, a skeleton, remains as object. In his development plan Markunpoika writes that he wants to expand the philosophical layer of his work by visiting Japan where the concept of Wabi-Sabi, the beauty of imperfection, originated. Following on from his research, he seeks to develop a collection that places temporality centre stage. In addition he wants to document the production process in order to provide more insight into his working method.
Viktor Hachmang
Viktor Hachmang
Viktor Hachmang

Viktor Hachmang

Viktor Hachmang graduated in 2011 from the Royal Academy of Art, The Hague, in the field of Graphic Design. Hachmang trained as a graphic designer but has a strong interest in illustration design, handwriting and the history of image in general. He himself says he is strongly influenced by New Wave design, the electric use of colour in the 1960s and the craftsmanship of the European comic-strip tradition Ligne Claire, pioneered by Hergé. Alongside his own autonomous graphic work Hachmang also works for clients ranging from news media organizations (The New York Times, Bloomberg) to luxury brands such as Kenzo Paris, Diesel and Lacoste. Hachmang seeks to blur the boundaries between autonomous art and the comic strip, thus establishing the latter as a serious form of expression. In the coming year the illustrator will seek autonomy, and pursue a personal narrative by means of visual work in both series and publications. In concrete terms Hachmang intends to work on a graphic novel of Ferdinand Bordewijk's stories 'Blokken'. Furthermore he will experiment with product design with the aim of exploring and pushing-out the boundaries of the discipline. In so doing Victor will focus on extending his understanding of 3D technology and come up with applications in architectonic elements.
Yuri Veerman
Yuri Veerman
Yuri Veerman
Yuri Veerman

Yuri Veerman

Yuri Veerman graduated in 2012 from the Sandberg Institute, Amsterdam, in the field of Design. Veerman is a graphic designer who researches the representation of large-scale phenomena such as the population of a community or country. He looks at the significance and working of symbols such as a flag or a coin for instance, and the relationship with the phenomenon with which these symbols are associated. In the coming year he intends to focus on the state-language project Staattaal, a language inventory of words and expressions that have been introduced by Dutch politicians during debates and discussions. Alongside launching the online lexicon, Veerman will also bring out a number of designs, each one based on a single word from the list. Veerman is to present his research in the form of an exhibition in The Hague. In addition to the above-mentioned project, Veerman will also focus on developing himself as a speaker and performer.
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse
Adriaan Aarnoudse

Adriaan Aarnoudse

In his graduation project for the Rozenburg peninsula, Adriaan Aarnoudse used cement-stabilized waste as building material for seven interventions in the landscape. Among these interventions we see for example a picnic spot, lookout tower and café. These small interventions make the area transparent, usable and accessible.

In every design Adriaan is interested in the material aspect of architecture: what is possible with a certain material? By showing the potential of specific places and materials Adriaan wishes to contribute to the public domain.

In addition, the relationship between the built environment and the landscape is important. As he himself indicates: “Two extremes fascinate me, the densely populated city and the large empty landscape. I dream of nature in the city and life in the wilderness.”
In the coming year Adriaan would like to develop four concepts further, including his graduation project for the Rozenburg peninsula. Other projects consist of building a prototype house with straw bales, creating a green roof landscape that is accessible to the public and a poetic work in which a cloud of glass gives the visitor the feeling that they are floating above the clouds.
Adriaan studied at the Academy of Architecture in Amsterdam.
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs
Aliki van der Kruijs

Aliki van der Kruijs

Aliki's work is a combination of photography and textile printing. By digitally applying a sensitive ink layer to a fabric, she makes textiles sensitive to light and water. She developed this technique herself and she calls it hydrography: photography with water instead of light. Location, time and weather conditions determine the print on the fabric and make each one unique.
Aliki studied Graphic Design and Fashion at ArtEZ in Arnhem and gained a master's degree in Applied Art at the Sandberg Institute. Within the Talent Development grant programme, Aliki plans to deepen ongoing projects and develop new printing techniques. Among the current projects is, for instance, her collaboration with fashion designer Elsien Gringhuis. Nature is an important factor in the work of both designers. The rain prints and fashion designs can therefore reinforce each other. In addition, Aliki is undertaking research with Wageningen University (WUR) into the development of sensitive substances based on natural chemistry.
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić
Arna Mačkić

Arna Mačkić

Arna Mačkić works from her own personal background. Originally from former Yugoslavia, she has regularly been confronted with devastated cities and buildings as a result of the civil war (1992-1995). This is one of the reasons for her interest in destruction in the city and the way cities function and change over time.

Arna's proposal focuses on the turbulent history of the Balkans and on the cultural heritage that refers to it but is now largely neglected. More specifically, it focuses on the monuments that commemorate the struggle against fascism in the time of Tito – in Serbo-Croatian called Spomenik. What design interventions are possible to give these monuments new meaning? In Arna's research project, research and design go hand in hand to give the loaded heritage a new place in the collective history of the Balkans. Throughout the project she will make models, objects and images.

Arna graduated in 2010 from the department of Architectural Design at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie.
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer
Beer van Geer

Beer van Geer

Beer van Geer is particularly interested in the human body and the visualization of physiological processes. He uses different elements such as technology, visual design and narrative. It results in projects such as AutoTelic, a visual and auditory virtual gaming environment. The player controls the game via his or her heartbeat. It's like a journey through a tunnel in space where users are challenged to match their heartbeat with the virtual game world. The game uses biofeedback, a method in which physiological data such as the heart rate is measured via sensors and displayed on a computer. The virtual world changes colour, sound and rhythm depending on the harmony and regularity of the heartbeat. The calmer the heart rate, the more harmonious the journey through AutoTelic. Conversely, visualization is more chaotic when the heartbeat fluctuates. This project brings together art, science, healthcare and product development.

Next year Beer will continue to work on AutoTelic. He is also focusing on the Hyphae project, a platform that provides insight into the field of electronic web music and interactive visualization art. To deepen his knowledge of visual environments and biofeedback, he is following courses and developing prototypes.

Beer studied Art, Media and Technology, Digital Media Design at the Utrecht School of the Arts.
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer
Boris de Beijer

Boris de Beijer

Boris plays with alienation and the creation of value in his jewellery designs. By making adjustments to recognizable contemporary forms, new objects, artefacts and jewellery are created that cannot be categorized with certainty, and the function of which is unknown. This changes the value assigned to the object. During his graduation year at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in 2011, he developed a new type of material consisting of various sorts of plastic and found objects. This material based on relatively cheap, synthetic raw materials evokes associations with precious, natural materials such as crystals and minerals. During the production process, the designer never has complete control over the final result, making each piece unique.
Boris works at the interface between applied and autonomous art. He wants to continue this approach by entering into interdisciplinary collaborations with artists from the Netherlands and abroad. The designer would also like to spend a working period abroad through an artist residency programme.
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers
Danny Cremers

Danny Cremers

Danny's approach focuses on what he calls deprofessionalization. To find alternatives to a fashion world where uniformity, conventions and craftsmanship are central, this designer advocates imperfection, coincidence and DIY aesthetics. In his designs Danny focuses on recycling and reinventing existing designs. An example is the Autumn/Winter 2013 collection, which exists only in virtual form, making the tangible product unimportant. For this collection, the fabrics and prints are derived from the recent collections of major fashion houses. With this one-sided 'collaboration' Danny places the controversial copies made by fast-fashion companies on the agenda.

In the coming year Danny wants to set up an online store and stay in London to enter into various collaborations with young designers and second-hand shops.
Danny is also following courses in the area of programming and computer animation. In the same way that architects often present their vision in computer-simulated form, he would like to apply technology to fashion.

Danny studied at ArtEZ, Arnhem and the Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design, London.
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli
Deniz Terli

Deniz Terli

Seduction and femininity are important elements in Deniz Terli's work. Deniz is interested in the theory of gender roles and the way in which they are culturally determined rather than a natural fact. In her own way she wants to criticize the traditional role of women. In her shoe designs she combines the sex appeal of the 1980s, glamour, kitsch and the raw, no-nonsense attitude of modern urban life. A striking feature is the use of particularly high heels, which Deniz considers to be a symbol of femininity.

In the coming year, the designer would like to set up her own label and develop a collection. Deniz is also conducting research in the field of material innovation and development at the Textile Museum, Fablabs, fairs and with craftspeople.

Deniz specialized in shoe design during the Master in Fashion Design at ArtEZ, Arnhem.
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement
Elisabeth Klement

Elisabeth Klement

Elisabeth Klement investigates the role of graphic design as an autonomous practice. She is also very interested in education, the dissemination of ideas and methods. These interests led to the creation of the reader with texts about publishing that Elisabeth made for the Tijuana Print Art Fair and her graduation project VIKERKAAR, in collaboration with Margo Niit. VIKERKAAR consists of a selection of texts on subjects such as publishing and graphic design that have appeared over the course of 35 years in the Estonian magazine Vikerkaar.
These themes are also reflected in the lectures, presentations and event she organizes for San Seriffe and Asterisk. Both are art bookshops and platforms of which she is the co-initiator. Asterisk and San Seriffe offer young designers and illustrators the opportunity to publish and sell their work. For Asterisk, Elisabeth organizes the Asterisk Summer School. She is also affiliated with the design department of the Gerrit Rietveld Academie.

In the coming year she wants to develop further as an independent graphic designer and deepen her knowledge of the field. To achieve this, she is going to New York and Berlin and visiting the New York Art Book Fair. Elisabeth is also focusing on expanding the public programme at San Seriffe.

Elisabeth studied graphic design at the Estonian Academy of Arts, Tallinn, Estonia and at the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam.
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki
Foteini Setaki

Foteini Setaki

Foteini Setaki is interested in the interaction between architecture and technological developments. In her own design practice, geometry also plays an important role. In the Absorbing Echoes project, Foteini developed a model for an acoustic element that owes its performance to certain geometric properties. For this project she combined 3D printing, acoustics, digital and parametric design. Parametric design is a method in digital design in which complex geometric designs can be made by establishing a number of 'rules' or interrelationships in algorithms during the calculations. The possibilities of the algorithm can subsequently be explored by changing the variables.

Using this method, Foteini investigates how principles from acoustics can lead to new methods and techniques in architecture. Is it possible to achieve a new language of form which integrates acoustics and aesthetics in such a way that it benefits both sound and space? The Absorbing Echoes prototype is a test for a new design method, and will also function as the basis for a public sound system.

Foteini studied architecture, urbanism and building sciences at TU Delft. The proposal for Absorbing Echoes originated from her 2011-2012 graduation project. Foteini graduated with distinction and was nominated for Archiprix 2013.
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi
Irma Földényi

Irma Földényi

Irma is interested in forms of communication and cultural codes. Her investigative design practice focuses on unexpected ways of communicating. And the question: how can she encourage that?
In her Digitalogues project Irma investigates the relationship between 'analogue' and 'digital' communication cultures. She combines the two worlds to create a new hybrid language. In the Digitalogues presentation, two images are shown each time, one referring to analogue and the other to digital means of communication. The juxtaposition of the images makes it possible to draw unexpected analogies.
In the coming year Irma plans to further develop the Digitalogues project. By observing different types of personal expression, Irma collects a variety of communication methods that serve as a basis. In addition, Irma will enter into collaborations and aims to strengthen her visual qualities.
Irma graduated in 2012 from the Design Academy Eindhoven, specializing in social design.
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon
Jinhyun Jeon

Jinhyun Jeon

Jinhyun Jeon investigates human perception. How do we perceive things with our senses and how can design practice respond to this? Jinhyun focuses primarily on food, where tasting encompasses more than five senses; temperature, colour, texture, volume, weight and shape all affect the gastronomic experience.
For her graduation project 'Synesthetic Sensorial Stimuli' Jinhyun is experimenting with different kinds of tableware. These experiments, sometimes in collaboration with Michelin-star restaurants, steer her design practice. Jinhyun is always searching for forms that question our way of thinking about food and taste. Tableware should not just be an instrument for bringing food to our mouths, but an extension of the body that stimulates our senses.
In the coming year Jinhyun will continue her research into sensory experience and taste sensation. This includes participating in exhibitions and events and following an experimental cooking course to enable her to collaborate better with leading chefs. In addition, the designer would like to work with manufacturers to enter the consumer market, with the production of a number of spoons.
Jinhyun holds a master's degree in Social Design from the Design Academy Eindhoven.
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel
Jólan van der Wiel

Jólan van der Wiel

Jólan is inspired by natural phenomena to develop new production techniques. For example, the Gravity Tool works with magnetic force. Using this production machine, stools (Gravity Stool) can be made that owe their special shape to the magnetic fields that act on the plastic. Because a natural force does the shaping work, this production method enables the designer to create a form without having total control over it. Each product is therefore unique.
This technique is also applied to other objects during collaborative projects. An example is the dress designed with fashion designer Iris van Herpen. This dress 'grows' under the influence of magnetic fields.

Because the process plays an important role in Jólan's design practice, he will be working in the coming year on a film that documents his research into the effects of natural forces.

Jólan graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in 2011.
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker
Jorge Bakker

Jorge Bakker

Jorge investigates man and his habitat. He does this through architecture and autonomous art, blurring the boundary between the two. This results in poetic works such as In Search of Habitus. As the title suggests, it is a search for new living environments. The proposals are developed in the form of models and autonomous images. Dobberend Bos (Bobbing Forest) is one of the prototypes within In Search of Habitus. It consists of trees planted in buoys on the water and was designed for the Rijnhaven in Rotterdam in the context of a study into the possibilities of floating construction.
Within the Talent Development grant programme, Jorge would like to develop these projects further. He also wants to focus on making 3D models and 3D printing in order to profile and present his own work more strongly.
Jorge studied architectural design at the Rietveld Academy and gained a master's degree in Applied Arts at the Sandberg Institute.
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman
Linda Valkeman

Linda Valkeman

Linda Valkeman is a textile designer who straddles the interface of art, fashion and textile design in her work. This work is mostly based on a reinterpretation of traditions and customs from other cultures. For the Blueprint project the designer is investigating the interaction between original and copy. The reason for this is Valkeman's fascination with the cycle of creation and imitation which has occurred in the Chinese and Dutch porcelain industries since the 17th century. Initially Chinese porcelain was imitated in the Netherlands, later on Dutch porcelain was reproduced in China, and then production moved back to the Netherlands again. The designer wants to translate this interaction into several textile designs, with traditional porcelain decoration serving as inspiration for the patterns on table textiles. To do this she will be conducting a social experiment during the Dutch Days in Chongqing. During this event, a wide-ranging public from diverse cultural backgrounds will provide input by sitting down at a table where people can share food, stories and creativity. Visitors will depict their stories, symbols or messages on white table linen and ceramic objects. Valkeman will transform these depictions into dynamic patterns that represent the dialogue between various cultures. For her artistic development she will be visiting two ceramics centres in China and attending a residency programme at the Sanbao Ceramic Art Institute. Valkeman will be presenting the results at the Saatchi Gallery in Chongqing and the Sanbao Gallery in Jingdezhen.
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen
Maaike Fransen

Maaike Fransen

Maaike Fransen's work is a playful combination of function and fantasy, story and poetry, reuse, humour and ingenuity. Her graduation project Peripatetic Paraphernalia is a fashion collection for seven imaginary figures. It balances between realism and absurdism. Recycling objects creates a new function and meaning. For example, two sink plugs were transformed into glasses and a laundry basket was turned into a garment. In addition, Fransen made an autobiographical stop-motion film in which childhood photos and memories were translated into a 3D setting and re-staged.

Within the Talent Development grant programme, Maaike is continuing to build on these two projects; she would like to combine the applied character of fashion with the narrative possibilities of film. A collection of clothing, costumes, accessories and attributes will be presented and brought to life in a film. She will present the results during fashion events such as the Amsterdam Fashion Week, Fashionclash Maastricht and the Dutch Design Week.

Maaike graduated in 2010 from the Man and Identity department at the Design Academy Eindhoven.
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen
Pauline van Dongen

Pauline van Dongen

'Wearable technology', or the integration of fashion and technology, is central to Pauline's design practice. From this perspective, the designer is working on a project where a garment is equipped with stretch sensors to monitor movements during rehabilitation. Or she is carrying out research into incorporating flexible solar cells into clothing. Another project is Morphogenesis. Here the space between body and garment is examined and emphasized. Through the use of different materials, 'capsules' are created around the body.

Pauline's mission is to 'naturalize technology'; she wants to convey that technology has become a new nature. Our eco-system is a techno-system, a technologically ordered eco-system.

In the coming year Pauline will further develop her ideas and research. She will achieve this by entering into new collaborations and participating in workshops, expert meetings and conferences.
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk
Pieter Stoutjesdijk

Pieter Stoutjesdijk

Pieter Stoutjesdijk is interested in open-source design processes and digital fabrication, which he calls the New Industrial Revolution. Here, the making and distribution of products has been democratized.

For his graduation project, Pieter researched the consequences of this revolution for consumers, producers and designers, including architectural designers. For example, he designed a 'smart cabin' as a case study for Haiti. This cabin can be produced with a computer-controlled milling machine (CNC) in just five hours. Due to the accuracy of CNC milling, glue and screws are not necessary and the cabin can be transported as a flat construction kit.
Pieter wants to deepen his knowledge of digital production processes and CNC milling in the coming year. He also plans to follow a coaching programme to develop himself as a creative entrepreneur.

Pieter graduated from the TU Delft Faculty of Architecture in 2013.
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag
Pinar Demirdag

Pinar Demirdag

The Turkish-Canadian Pinar Demirdag has been working with Viola Renate for four years under the name Pinar&Viola. Together they investigate and respond to contemporary visual culture through designs for wallpapers, catwalks, illustrations for magazines, websites and interactive games. Pinar&Viola's graduation project consisted of prints of oversized credit cards. This series is part of The Surface Collection. This series is part of The Surface Collection. Under this name, they launch a new series of autonomous visuals every year. The Credit Card Collection presents the credit card as a metaphor for the broken dreams of our time and for the changing notions of value and credit. The visual surfaces are hyperdetailed with images from popular culture and plenty of neon colours. They could be described as ecstatic and decadent. Pinar&Viola's images express the narcissism and opportunism, but also fear and paranoia that characterize our time. They focus on the seductiveness of contemporary visual culture and on the power of icons and symbols.

In the coming year Pinar&Viola would like to deepen their practice and provide a stronger theoretical framework. To achieve this, they are going to Paris, the heart of haute couture.

Pinar graduated from the design department at the Sandberg Institute.
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden
Rick van der Linden

Rick van der Linden

Can people be expressed in the architecture they inhabit? Rick is researching the narrative power and sensory experience of interior spaces. The Dementerende Huis was the graduation project for his Master's in Interior Architecture at the Academy of Visual Arts in Maastricht in 2012. This theoretical and design research focuses on the relationship between buildings and memories. Every building is a collection of memories; together they provide content, context and perspective. But because these are often abstract and fragmented relics, the question arises of how memories find a material expression. And what happens when memories become distorted or even disappear?

In the coming year, Rick would like to delve further into the representation of the interior space and explore which forms and techniques contribute to the stratification and complexity of buildings. Using, for instance, language, models, spatial installations, drawings, photographs and videos.
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos
Rogier Delfos

Rogier Delfos

Rogier Delfos is a graphic designer. In his practice he focuses on the political value of design. Graphic design is a means to quickly reproduce and disseminate ideas. This makes it possible to influence behaviour. According to Rogier, the role of the graphic designer also includes developing and stimulating collective methods for self-publishing alternative ideas. This can give minorities more visibility in society. In his own practice Rogier endeavours to use design more consciously as a political and social tool. He is developing Werker Magazine, which deals with subjects such as work (including domestic labour) and the informal economy.

In the coming year Rogier wants to further develop his ideas about the use of design through Werker Magazine. To this end, he will make study trips to London and Madrid and take part in the Werkplaats Typografie summer school. In addition, he is focusing on perfecting his own typeface, which is also used in Werker Magazine. In the coming year Rogier will give a presentation at Offprint in Paris, Bildkritik workshops in several European cities and develop a project for The Showroom in Paris.

Rogier graduated from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie in Amsterdam.
Viola Renate
Viola Renate
Viola Renate
Viola Renate
Viola Renate

Viola Renate

Viola Renate de Koeijer has been working with Pinar Demirdag for four years under the name Pinar&Viola. Together they investigate and respond to contemporary visual culture through designs for wallpapers, catwalks, illustrations for magazines, websites and interactive games. Pinar&Viola's graduation project consisted of prints of oversized credit cards. This series is part of The Surface Collection. Under this name, they launch a new series of autonomous visuals every year. The Credit Card Collection presents the credit card as a metaphor for the broken dreams of our time and for the changing notions of value and credit. The visual surfaces are hyperdetailed with images from popular culture and plenty of neon colours. They could be described as ecstatic and decadent. Pinar&Viola's images express the narcissism and opportunism, but also fear and paranoia that characterize our time. They focus on the seductiveness of contemporary visual culture and on the power of icons and symbols.

In the coming year Pinar&Viola would like to deepen their practice and provide a stronger theoretical framework. To achieve this, they are going to Paris, the heart of haute couture.

Viola Renate graduated in 2010 from the Design Department at the Sandberg Institute.