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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 Scheme 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

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

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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

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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