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p r o j e c t s }
A selection of work spanning multiple years. Some projects are complete, others continue to evolve. The writing varies, as does the distance in time. Sometimes up close, sometimes later. Reflective, searching. This page changes with me: an organic archive in motion.
Luna & Sol
According to the moon & under the sun
Luna & Sol is a diptych about the moon and the sun: one mysterious and wise, the other warm and reassuring. In two small leporellos, an ode to natural rhythm unfolds. Light, time, and the quiet promise of always beginning again.
Each phase of the moon, each kind of day under the sun is described — small, rhythmic, and full of trust.
While working on the leporellos, two portraits emerged, inspired by antique illustrations: Luna and Sol, as anthropomorphic personifications of our celestial bodies.
The covers were printed on a Kelsey Excelsior Mercury Model X 6×10″ platen press; the inner pages and prints on a Hauer Record proofing press.
Luna & Sol is a diptych about the moon and the sun: one mysterious and wise, the other warm and reassuring. In two small leporellos, an ode to natural rhythm unfolds. Light, time, and the quiet promise of always beginning again.
Each phase of the moon, each kind of day under the sun is described — small, rhythmic, and full of trust.
While working on the leporellos, two portraits emerged, inspired by antique illustrations: Luna and Sol, as anthropomorphic personifications of our celestial bodies.
The covers were printed on a Kelsey Excelsior Mercury Model X 6×10″ platen press; the inner pages and prints on a Hauer Record proofing press.
Patiently practicing pacing
What remains of me?
Slowing down and letting go, the moment when a period of aimless circling finally, gradually, comes to an end. Still dizzy and disoriented, balancing, transforming, and constantly changing, but into who… What remains of me? As the music fades, reality settles in and the uneasy process of acceptance begins.
The music box is a cherished remnant from my childhood, salvaged from a half-decayed cloth doll. I sawed the porcelain peacock head from a figurine I found in a thrift store. The snail shell was left behind in my garden. All precious metal parts are handcrafted. Small magnets connect the snail shell and the base.
Slowing down and letting go, the moment when a period of aimless circling finally, gradually, comes to an end. Still dizzy and disoriented, balancing, transforming, and constantly changing, but into who… What remains of me? As the music fades, reality settles in and the uneasy process of acceptance begins.
The music box is a cherished remnant from my childhood, salvaged from a half-decayed cloth doll. I sawed the porcelain peacock head from a figurine I found in a thrift store. The snail shell was left behind in my garden. All precious metal parts are handcrafted. Small magnets connect the snail shell and the base.
Voor ik het vergeet...
Is this what I was looking for?
My brain is a mush, my writing stenographic. Poetic, perhaps, or is that just wishful thinking? Are words really overrated, or is it my mushy brain speaking? Voor ik het vergeet*… emerged from a futile attempt to calmly organize thoughts.
Memories wobble, rattle, change, fade, and distort. A leap of thought into the deep, hopelessly lost in a labyrinth of thought paths. Brain musings, meters long, the perfect material to knit a terrible itchy sweater.
Poetic reflections, word inventions, and fragments of thought follow the organic meanderings of the mind.
The poster is printed on a Hauer Record proof press.
My brain is a mush, my writing stenographic. Poetic, perhaps, or is that just wishful thinking? Are words really overrated, or is it my mushy brain speaking? Voor ik het vergeet*… emerged from a futile attempt to calmly organize thoughts.
Memories wobble, rattle, change, fade, and distort. A leap of thought into the deep, hopelessly lost in a labyrinth of thought paths. Brain musings, meters long, the perfect material to knit a terrible itchy sweater.
Poetic reflections, word inventions, and fragments of thought follow the organic meanderings of the mind.
The poster is printed on a Hauer Record proof press.
Herfstvlinders
(op)gedragen door de wind
Thoughts swirl, tumbling over each other, if only they could be like autumn leaves. Herfstvlinders* is a collection of small poems and thoughts, written in Dutch, pressed into fallen leaves of plants and trees. By bruising this organic material, text temporarily appears as part of the transience process. Once printed, the leaves resume their way; carried by the wind, they take the words with them. To be found again, or to be overlooked.
The leaves are printed on a Kelsey Excelsior Mercury Model X 6x10" tabletop printing press. The booklet is printed on a Hauer Record proofing press, using the same clichés as for the leaves.
Thoughts swirl, tumbling over each other, if only they could be like autumn leaves. Herfstvlinders* is a collection of small poems and thoughts, written in Dutch, pressed into fallen leaves of plants and trees. By bruising this organic material, text temporarily appears as part of the transience process. Once printed, the leaves resume their way; carried by the wind, they take the words with them. To be found again, or to be overlooked.
The leaves are printed on a Kelsey Excelsior Mercury Model X 6x10" tabletop printing press. The booklet is printed on a Hauer Record proofing press, using the same clichés as for the leaves.
Breekbaar
A year of teacups
Twelve cups, twelve moments. Over the course of a year, I photographed a Royal Albert ‘Flower of the Month’ teacup each month, an heirloom from my grandmother, filled with memories and floral patterns. Sometimes filled with tea, sometimes with snow or ink. Indoors on the table, or outside among autumn leaves. A small ritual within the larger process of grief and healing. A visual beginning, born out of loss.
Taking the photographs became a recurring moment of reflection. Sometimes looking back, sometimes ahead. It made me more aware of the passing of time and the layered nature of grief. A way to zoom in and out, to create space and to gently begin letting go.
Twelve cups, twelve moments. Over the course of a year, I photographed a Royal Albert ‘Flower of the Month’ teacup each month, an heirloom from my grandmother, filled with memories and floral patterns. Sometimes filled with tea, sometimes with snow or ink. Indoors on the table, or outside among autumn leaves. A small ritual within the larger process of grief and healing. A visual beginning, born out of loss.
Taking the photographs became a recurring moment of reflection. Sometimes looking back, sometimes ahead. It made me more aware of the passing of time and the layered nature of grief. A way to zoom in and out, to create space and to gently begin letting go.
Insecta - pharma
The introduction of a new class
Is there a difference between prevention and cure? Are side effects inevitable or unacceptable? Experiences with medication are personal, unique, and often emotionally charged. Prescribed remedies can feel like a punishment, but also life-changing in a positive way. Taking a pill is often the obvious solution for a wide range of ailments. With Insecta – pharma I explore the indispensable role of medicine in our society by comparing them to insects.
The pill as a small entity, a new species with its own classification system, shaped from epoxy, while wings, body, legs, and antennae are laser-cut from the cardboard box that once held the medicine.
Is there a difference between prevention and cure? Are side effects inevitable or unacceptable? Experiences with medication are personal, unique, and often emotionally charged. Prescribed remedies can feel like a punishment, but also life-changing in a positive way. Taking a pill is often the obvious solution for a wide range of ailments. With Insecta – pharma I explore the indispensable role of medicine in our society by comparing them to insects.
The pill as a small entity, a new species with its own classification system, shaped from epoxy, while wings, body, legs, and antennae are laser-cut from the cardboard box that once held the medicine.
Reclaimed treasures
Something old, something new
I’m a collector, and I can’t help it. Searching for, finding, and gathering used, antique, and vintage jewelry to deconstruct or restore brings me joy. This way, they get a second chance, renewed and reborn. Yes, some pieces are for me, but not all. For years, I’ve collected Zeeuwse knopen*, which I cleaned, stripped, and restored for this ring series. I also work with other found objects (discarded teaspoons, cake forks, and more) all waiting for love, care, and a new purpose. Each item tells a unique story. With a small intervention, it becomes jewelry full of history.
I’m a collector, and I can’t help it. Searching for, finding, and gathering used, antique, and vintage jewelry to deconstruct or restore brings me joy. This way, they get a second chance, renewed and reborn. Yes, some pieces are for me, but not all. For years, I’ve collected Zeeuwse knopen*, which I cleaned, stripped, and restored for this ring series. I also work with other found objects (discarded teaspoons, cake forks, and more) all waiting for love, care, and a new purpose. Each item tells a unique story. With a small intervention, it becomes jewelry full of history.
Precious pasta
Warning: wearable, not edible
A butterfly pasta brooch, made with glue, glitter, and paint. My mother wore it with pride, just as I felt proud as a child of my creation. When the original began to crumble and break, I decided to create a new version. A childlike gift, transformed into an adult form, for all ages. Not made from pasta, cardboard, or craft glue, but cast in gleaming silver and bronze. Precious Pasta is an ode to childhood, to mothers who keep everything, and to pasta as a universal material of love and creativity.
Farfalle and penne, cast in solid bronze or silver, hanging from a silver necklace: an everyday ingredient, cast into a lasting piece of jewelry.
A butterfly pasta brooch, made with glue, glitter, and paint. My mother wore it with pride, just as I felt proud as a child of my creation. When the original began to crumble and break, I decided to create a new version. A childlike gift, transformed into an adult form, for all ages. Not made from pasta, cardboard, or craft glue, but cast in gleaming silver and bronze. Precious Pasta is an ode to childhood, to mothers who keep everything, and to pasta as a universal material of love and creativity.
Farfalle and penne, cast in solid bronze or silver, hanging from a silver necklace: an everyday ingredient, cast into a lasting piece of jewelry.
Concrete - symbiosis
All good things take their natural time
What happens when you bring nature and maakbaarheid* together? Concrete – symbiosis began as an experiment, a study inspired by urban flora: moss and wild plants that always seem to find a way to sprout in the most unlikely urban corners.
We created concrete brain-pots, some covered in moss, others planted with succulents. Our search for the right conditions became a lesson in bryology. What was needed: moisture, shade – and patience. No pressure, no rush, just time. Our reward? A tender fuzz of green. A reminder that not everything needs to be controlled. Some things simply take their natural time.
What happens when you bring nature and maakbaarheid* together? Concrete – symbiosis began as an experiment, a study inspired by urban flora: moss and wild plants that always seem to find a way to sprout in the most unlikely urban corners.
We created concrete brain-pots, some covered in moss, others planted with succulents. Our search for the right conditions became a lesson in bryology. What was needed: moisture, shade – and patience. No pressure, no rush, just time. Our reward? A tender fuzz of green. A reminder that not everything needs to be controlled. Some things simply take their natural time.
Dissected ceramics
What's in a name?
With the introduction of the word ‘kitsch’, I lost a part of my unselfconscious gaze. My way of looking at things changed forever. Apparently, there was a word to define what isn’t art. But why, and who decides that?
My nostalgia for porcelain figurines remained, objects that remind me of the past. But where do they belong now? From these ambivalent feelings, a strange, fragile, yet meaningful family of jewellery and artefacts emerged. It always begins with a figurine, chosen intuitively: not for its beauty or flaw, but for its readiness to transform. Through decapitating, splitting and adding, a new form arises, an identity, perhaps even a function.
With the introduction of the word ‘kitsch’, I lost a part of my unselfconscious gaze. My way of looking at things changed forever. Apparently, there was a word to define what isn’t art. But why, and who decides that?
My nostalgia for porcelain figurines remained, objects that remind me of the past. But where do they belong now? From these ambivalent feelings, a strange, fragile, yet meaningful family of jewellery and artefacts emerged. It always begins with a figurine, chosen intuitively: not for its beauty or flaw, but for its readiness to transform. Through decapitating, splitting and adding, a new form arises, an identity, perhaps even a function.
Work in progress. Always.
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