Hague-based artist Lotte van Lieshout spent several months in Berlin last year. But unlike during previous residencies, the new environment did not inspire her. However, her stay in the German capital did change her working method, which proved valuable. Van Lieshout worked more slowly, spending her days observing, drawing and responding intuitively through painting, which strengthened her artistic intuition. As always, her personal mythology appears in Van Lieshout's work, which she describes as “observations and experiences in real life that are influenced by inexplicable events that I perceive sensorially, but cannot easily capture”.
In Berlin, she felt free to let her imagination run wild. This resulted in paintings featuring hotel bells—to Van Lieshout, symbols of being both present and absent at the same time—and imaginary animals she wished she could have, such as the flying creature Falkor from The NeverEnding Story.
'Best of Berlin II: Verlangen naar huis' ('Longing for home') with work by Lotte van Lieshout can be seen at Livingstone Gallery in The Hague until 8 March.
Congratulations on 'Best of Berlin', which showcases works you created during your working period in Berlin last year. In which part of Berlin was your studio located and how would you describe it?
The studio was on the ground floor of an apartment complex with an inner courtyard in the Prenzlauer Berg district. It’s a quiet neighbourhood with a small park and shops around the corner. It had a spacious workspace for painting. The studio had a couch, a desk and a table on trestles. There was also a kitchen and bathroom.
Your home base is The Hague, where you work at De DCR (breeding ground De Constant de Rebecque) in the Energiekwartier. If you were to compare the two studios, what is the greatest difference?
De DCR houses 40 studios where artists, designers and architects work. It’s a creative hub where you can feel the energy of the people working there. Just knowing that you're not alone feels good.
In Berlin, there were no other artists around. I could completely withdraw and paint day and night. That was the biggest difference. In my studio in The Hague, besides doing art, I also enjoy working as a museum educator at the Kunstmuseum and Museum Panorama Mesdag. In Berlin, I focused entirely on my own work.
I imagine that a different environment also requires a different working method, if only because nothing is in its usual place. Did your working method in Berlin differ from that in The Hague?
Every morning, after waking up, I began my day with coffee on the sofa dressed in my painting clothes in my Berlin studio. While reviewing my work from the previous day, I worked in my sketchbook on solutions and ideas for changes I wanted to make. This approach was significantly different from my routine in The Hague, where I paint directly on the canvas without sketching first. In Berlin, I took the time to develop my ideas in sketches before transferring them to the canvas, which resulted in more clarity in my work.
On your website, you talk about on your time in Berlin, writing that the city did not inspire you directly. Did this surprise you?
The city of Berlin itself did not provide direct inspiration. Normally, as an artist-in-residence, I get ideas by walking around, but that didn’t happen here. Near the studio, I discovered a small park full of dogs, which I photographed and later used as the basis for a new work. The beautiful bedspread in the apartment also inspired me.
This was a lesson for me: I no longer want to do a residency in a big city like Berlin. I find inspiration from contact with people, animals and objects. I want to feel a connection and I feel that more in a small village like Pécsbagota in southern Hungary, where I can only communicate with villagers through gestures. Unfortunately, the artist-in-residence Post 15 by Elizabeth de Vaal and Arie van der Burg in Hungary is no longer active. I’ve wonderful experiences there.
What was the greatest discovery you made during your time in Berlin? What was the most significant development in your work?
Working at a slower pace with more time for reflection and sketching turned out to be a breakthrough. I was surprised to find that my sketches became standalone works, separate from my paintings. During this time, I spent my days purely looking, drawing and responding intuitively through painting, which further strengthened my artistic intuition. It was a valuable time in which I worked hard and fully focused on my art. Now it's time to share my work with the world.
The paintings you created in Berlin feature lots of animals, including imaginary ones like Falkor from The NeverEnding Story, as well as hotel bells. That’s an intriguing combination of elements. How did that come about?
In Berlin, I felt free to let my imagination run wild. This resulted in paintings of imaginary animals I wished I could have, like the flying creature Falkor from The NeverEnding Story. Of course, the flying dog is a fantasy creature, but mythology also includes Pegasus, the flying horse, and Icarus, the flying human.
To me, the hotel bell represents the idea of being simultaneously present and absent, of being summoned. What do we call forth in our minds? What do we imagine? My grandmother, who is no longer alive, had such a hotel bell and to me, it has always been a symbol of making the invisible visible.
As far as the content of your work is concerned, you once said, “In my work, I develop a personal mythology by using everyday life as a context for inexplicable phenomena.” Can you elaborate on that? What do you mean by personal mythology and what kind of inexplicable phenomena are we talking about?
It’s often a combination of observations and real-life experiences influenced by inexplicable events that I perceive with my senses, but cannot easily capture. That’s where painting comes in. This creates interaction between myself and the world, which I would describe as ‘mythical’ or ‘magical’, but not in the sense of magical realism or a vague form of symbolism. I want to paint these experiences as tangibly as possible, exactly as they appear to me.
For example, I often feel tingling sensations on my shoulder blades, as if the presence of a deceased person is visiting me. I can ask questions, but I don’t receive answers at that moment—sometimes only later in a non-verbal form. My work is about the present world and life, yet it also connects to stories from the past, exploring themes of fate, mortality and the infinite nature of existence.
You often work abroad. Is there anywhere you’d love to go for another residency?
I feel at home in Eastern European countries like Hungary. My heart truly belongs in small villages where I can connect with the locals—and possibly animals.
There is one place on my wish list in Switzerland that I would love to visit: a location where various artists live and work together, providing insight into each other’s creative processes. So, I plan to submit an application for that.
What are you currently working on?
Together with Alexandra van Dongen (curator at Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen), I’m working on an exhibition that will open in June at the Van Gogh House in Zundert.