<h1>Defining Creativity / Defying Labels</h1>&nbsp;Ask&nbsp;Sagmeister to define creativity, and his answer is characteristically unconventional: “There are very few things that bore me more in life than writing about definitions of creativity. I find the desire to define it a tad uncreative.”Fair point.Sagmeister’s refusal to box creativity into a neat little package speaks volumes about his approach—fluid, exploratory, and ever-evolving. When asked how he transitions so easily between disciplines, his reasoning is just as straightforward: “I get bored easily. So after a while, there’s always the urge to switch lanes.”However, he does acknowledge the long-standing debate on whether creativity is an&nbsp;innate talent or a&nbsp;skill that can be developed: “I always used to be vehemently on the muscle-training side of this debate and regarded innate talent as a myth. But after reading psychological research, I found convincing arguments that genetics play a significant role in determining a person’s well-being. If this is true, then perhaps the ability to perceive trends in design could also be a naturally inherited trait.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“There are very few things that bore me more in life than writing about definitions of creativity. I find the desire to define it a tad uncreative.”</h1></blockquote>

<h1>The Creative Process</h1>&nbsp;If creativity is indeed&nbsp;an inherited trait, Sagmeister seems to have inherited plenty of it. While some creatives adhere to&nbsp;strict processes, he takes a more&nbsp;relaxed approach, finding inspiration in his surroundings.He emphasizes the importance of&nbsp;workspace design: “A beautiful studio makes me work longer and harder, simply because I want to spend more time in it. A wide-open view that is interesting helps significantly with idea generation.”He also finds inspiration in&nbsp;motion and travel: “Taking train trips works well for me. The forward motion, combined with a view out the window and enough space for a sketchbook, helps generate ideas.”For Sagmeister, working away from the studio has its own advantages: “In a different place, thoughts about execution don’t come to mind immediately, and I can dream a bit more freely.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>"A beautiful studio makes me work longer and harder, simply because I want to spend more time in it."</h1></blockquote>

<h1>Risk and Failure in Creativity</h1>&nbsp;Dreaming is all well and good, but the harsh reality is that&nbsp;any creative endeavor has the potential to fail gloriously. And while failure is often romanticized in creative circles, Sagmeister challenges this notion: “Failure is overrated. The same people who talked about ‘thinking outside the box’ a decade ago are now discovering ‘the importance of failure.’”That said, he acknowledges that&nbsp;stepping outside his comfort zone has often led to&nbsp;success: “In most cases, when I go beyond what feels comfortable, things work out really well. My fears usually kick in far sooner than they should, and I’m convinced my work would be much better if I took more risks.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“I’ve never seen play reduce depth or meaning.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;One misstep he recalls involved making a&nbsp;last-minute change to a presentation, which inadvertently offended several people: “But such a case happens too rarely to even mention. The problem of staying on the safe side is infinitely bigger—it eliminates so much potentially good work.”Despite the risks, Sagmeister&nbsp;embraces playfulness in his work, believing that it enhances rather than trivializes depth and meaning: “I choose a theme or direction that is meaningful to me, and then I play within some parameters freely. I’ve never seen play reduce depth or meaning.”

<h1>Sabbaticals and Their Impact</h1>&nbsp;One of the&nbsp;most well-documented aspects of Sagmeister’s career is his practice of taking&nbsp;extended sabbaticals. These breaks from client work have led to some of his&nbsp;most acclaimed projects, including&nbsp;Things I Have Learned in My Life So Far and&nbsp;The Happy Film.Every&nbsp;seven years, he takes a&nbsp;year-long sabbatical to step away from commercial work and focus on personal exploration. These breaks have been&nbsp;instrumental in shaping his most introspective projects, reinforcing his belief that&nbsp;rest and reflection are essential to&nbsp;sustained creativity.&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“The first sabbatical was really scary—I had to overcome a lot of fear.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Reflecting on his&nbsp;first sabbatical, he recalls considering a&nbsp;career shift into film directing. However, he realized: “It would be a 10-year process, and it seemed to make more sense to stay with the language I already knew—design—and see if I had anything to say beyond the purely promotional.”Was taking time off a&nbsp;risk? Not in hindsight: “The first sabbatical was really scary—I had to overcome a lot of fear (the studio being forgotten, clients leaving, etc.). But because that first sabbatical was so successful, the second was easy, the third even easier, and the fourth presented no risk at all.”Now&nbsp;mid-sabbatical, he finds himself working&nbsp;more than ever, but only on projects that genuinely&nbsp;interest him: “I work almost twice as many hours as I used to in the New York studio before the sabbatical. It’s very joyful.”

<h1>Advice for Young Creatives</h1>&nbsp;For&nbsp;emerging designers struggling to find their voice, Sagmeister offers&nbsp;practical advice: “If you’re fresh out of school, look for a design company that does the kind of work you want to do. Try really hard to get a job with them. Work your ass off. Then start your own place. It’s a great job.”For those&nbsp;hesitant to take a break, fearing it might&nbsp;hinder their progress, he shares a friend's advice: “Stop concentrating on your own happiness and start looking out for the happiness of others.”In a world where creativity is often seen as a solution to&nbsp;global challenges, Sagmeister offers a&nbsp;pragmatic perspective: “Ultimately, if your main goal is to change the world, design is not the right profession. Politics is. But designers can contribute an itsy bit here and there.”On his website, Sagmeister&nbsp;challenges the idea that design is purely about&nbsp;problem-solving: “Solving problems is for accountants and engineers. We can do so much more. We can delight! I can experience true beauty—whether looking at the New York skyline or the Austrian Alps. Considering it took nature 200 million years to form the Alps, but New Yorkers built the skyline in 200 years, I’m somehow more impressed with New Yorkers. The form of the Empire State Building does NOT follow function, but it functions much better than the 1970s skyscrapers built under the term of functionalism.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“If your main goal is to change the world, design is not the right profession.”&nbsp;</h1></blockquote>

<h1>Obsesssions</h1>&nbsp;In September 2008, Sagmeister and his team set out to create something bold, fleeting, and unforgettable. Over eight days, with the help of more than 100 volunteers, they meticulously arranged 250,000 Eurocent coins across a square in the heart Amsterdam, sorting them into gradients of copper and spelling out a striking confession:&nbsp;“Obsessions make my life worse and my work better.” Then, in a move as daring as the project itself, they walked away—leaving the shimmering mural unguarded, open for the public to engage with.What happened next was inevitable and yet, somehow, completely unexpected. Less than 20 hours later, a local resident spotted someone scooping up handfuls of coins, stuffing them into a bag. Protective of the art they had watched take shape, they called the police. But in a twist Sagmeister himself might have appreciated, the authorities—determined to “preserve” the piece—swept up every last cent and carted them away. Just like that, the artwork vanished.I was there, working as a press officer for the festival, and I still have a few of those coins tucked away in a junk drawer, a fact I relayed to the designer. His reaction was pure Sagmeister:&nbsp;“Ahhh, that is fantastic! I still like that project...” No frustration, no regret—only delight in the unpredictability of it all. That’s Sagmeister—more invested in the creative process than the permanence of the result. His work isn’t just about aesthetics or function; it’s about play, storytelling, and embracing the unexpected. And perhaps that’s the real lesson: true creativity isn’t just about what we make, but how we engage with the world around us. &nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“Stop concentrating on your own happiness and start looking out for the happiness of others.”</h1></blockquote>

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Designer&nbsp;Stefan Sagmeister has built a career on defying convention, bending the rules of typography, branding, and visual storytelling. From Grammy-winning album covers for&nbsp;The Rolling Stones, Lou Reed, and Aerosmith to provocative projects—including&nbsp;carving typography into his own skin—his work challenges the limits of design.Every seven years, he&nbsp;steps away from his New York studio for a year-long&nbsp;sabbatical, using the time to recharge, explore, and create on his own terms. For this interview, we caught up with him mid-sabbatical, bouncing between&nbsp;Mexico and Ukraine—technically on a break, yet still generous enough to share his time and insights. &nbsp;

THE CREATIVE MIND OF STEFAN SAGMEISTER: DESIGN, PLAY, AND PURPOSE

<blockquote><h1>“One of the biggest dangers of creativity is being static and repeating yourself.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Judging from your socials alone, you seem to work nonstop. Are you, in fact, the hardest-working man in Showbiz?&nbsp;Joseph Kahn: “Absolutely not! There are plenty of people who have more exciting schedules than I do. The thing is, I have a family now, so I have to split my time between family and creativity. And I'm still trying to find the perfect balance. Before I had a family, I had a very selfish perspective—I got to focus completely on myself and my ideas. I’d think of an idea at 4:00 in the morning and work until 2:00 in the afternoon. But if I’d do that now, it means I don’t get to see my family.”&nbsp;&nbsp;What effect have these time constraints had on your craft and creativity?&nbsp;JK: “One of the biggest dangers of creativity is being static and repeating yourself. If you don't grow, your stories become limited. Having a family has given me an entirely new perspective—it changes the way I see the world and, as a result, what I create. The mechanics of creativity might be a little harder, but sometimes working within limitations forces you to dig deeper for inspiration.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“Bigger budgets give you more freedom, but restraint is just as important.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Money—or the lack of it—is no longer a constraint. You made your first videos for just $200, but now you work with much bigger budgets. Has having more money changed your creativity? Does a bigger budget mean more creative freedom?&nbsp;JK: “Bigger budgets give you more freedom, but restraint is just as important. I recently did a video for&nbsp;The All-American Rejects for basically no money. They were kind enough to let me use one of their songs in my movie, and so, in return, I directed a video for them. There was no budget but I had complete creative control and honestly, it’s one of the best videos I’ve ever done. I don’t think I could improve it. Every shot is what it should be.”&nbsp;&nbsp;You don’t always have complete creative control like that. How do you navigate that?&nbsp;JK: “Having complete freedom doesn’t mean you go all out in every direction. Restraint is part of the artistry, like playing guitar—you don’t just blast every note at full volume. Control over how you execute ideas is just as important as having the resources to execute them.&nbsp;&nbsp;The reality is that almost no one has complete creative control—not even when they think they do. Filmmaking, unlike painting or writing, requires massive coordination and funding. A great Hollywood filmmaker might make three movies a decade, meaning they spend very little time practicing their craft on set. In a perfect world, I’d be shooting every day. Since that’s not possible, I use commercials and music videos to keep refining my skills.”&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“Having complete freedom doesn’t mean you go all out in every direction. Restraint is part of the artistry.”</h1></blockquote>

<blockquote><h1>“Whether it’s a three-minute music video or a two-hour movie, there has to be a core emotional hook. The challenge is tailoring that storytelling to the medium.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Let’s go back to the start of your career. You began directing as a teenager before enrolling at NYU Film School, correct?&nbsp;JK: “Yes, I took out a student loan to attend NYU, but I couldn’t afford to stay, so I dropped out and started my own business. I bought a suit, set up my company, and within a year and a half, I had made around 30 videos—about half a million dollars' worth of work—while flying back and forth between New York and L.A. Then I shut that down, moved to L.A., and that’s when things really took off. When I first arrived, I was making $150,000 videos. A year later, I was directing million-dollar productions. It all happened fast.”&nbsp;So you were able to pay off your loans then?&nbsp;JK: “Yeah, but for me it wasn’t about the money. I just had this relentless drive. I didn’t want to lose. I was angry. Angry at every director who got a job instead of me. Not because I hated them, but because I knew I could be just as good—if not better.&nbsp;But having a chip on your shoulder isn’t enough. You have to act on it. I was constantly studying, constantly breaking down work, watching movies obsessively, trying to figure out the latest techniques.&nbsp;The person I was in my 20s and 30s? That’s not who I am now. I’m a married man, a family man. I don’t have the same time to obsess over every detail. But I’ve developed a skill set that’s way beyond most people. Now, I bring experience and a deeper understanding of life into my work.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“Creativity is about provoking thought and emotion—connecting the mind and heart.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;How do you define creativity in your work?&nbsp;JK: “Ultimately, I see myself as an entertainer. Creativity is about provoking thought and emotion—connecting the mind and heart. Anyone can come up with a weird idea. Anyone can shock. But how do you do it in a way that feels grander? I want my work to add something to the human experience, to make people feel something real.”&nbsp;&nbsp;You’ve worked across different areas—music videos, commercials, and films. What’s the common thread?&nbsp;JK: “Storytelling. Whether it’s a three-minute music video or a two-hour movie, there has to be a core emotional hook. The challenge is tailoring that storytelling to the medium. A commercial is different from a music video, but both rely on visual rhythm, pacing, and emotion to engage an audience.”&nbsp;&nbsp;You’ve tapped into youth culture across different decades. Have you ever felt disconnected from it?&nbsp;JK: “I never viewed it as youth culture. I’ve always just followed my personal passions. Sometimes I align with the culture; sometimes I don’t. Right now, I feel less connected because the culture is so negative. In the ‘80s, there was this reverence for love and admiration for women in music. Today, lyrics are often combative—one side is saying, ‘You wronged me,’ and the other is saying, ‘You’re no good.' That shift makes it harder for me to be inspired, but I believe it will eventually cycle back to something different.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“A feeling or a visual can sit with me for years before I know how to translate it into something tangible.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Do you feel a need to use your creativity to educate, not just entertain?&nbsp;JK: “I don’t consider myself a political commentator. There are smarter people who dedicate their lives to studying and understanding politics. I’m just a guy obsessed with movies and emotions. People sometimes look to entertainers for answers, but I don’t have any. My best contribution is expressing confusion, curiosity, and exploration through art.”&nbsp;&nbsp;How do you decide when an idea is ready to become a movie?&nbsp;JK: “Ideas float around in my head constantly, and they stay there until they find the right moment. A feeling or a visual can sit with me for years before I know how to translate it into something tangible. I tend to live in a dream state, constantly making little movies in my head, framing the world around me in shots and sequences. That process never stops.”&nbsp;&nbsp;What’s your approach to collaboration in filmmaking?&nbsp;JK: “As a director, your job is to harness a collective vision. If you’ve written the project, you are the auteur, and the team is there to help bring that vision to life. The best collaborations come from working with people who bring their own genius but are also open to adapting and evolving ideas. Costume designers, for example, are incredibly creative people whose artistry influences the final product in ways most people don’t realize. Clothing is a fundamental part of human culture, and the way characters dress can shape an entire film. My role as a director is to guide these elements and let other creative experts bring their best ideas forward.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“Careers have hot and cold periods, but I know I keep getting better because I never stop learning.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;You’ve worked with major artists like Taylor Swift and Britney Spears. What’s the dynamic like when balancing their needs, the record label’s desires, and your vision?&nbsp;JK: “By the time an artist works with me, their original art form has evolved. A singer sings, a rapper raps—but when they step into my world, we’re building a persona, a way for their music to connect with audiences visually. At that point, they become actors in a sense. My job is to listen to them, understand their vision, and shape it into something powerful for the screen. The key is authenticity—capturing a real emotional connection rather than just making something flashy.”&nbsp;&nbsp;How do you approach working with artists who have their own strong ideas?&nbsp;JK: “I never walk into a project thinking, ‘Listen to me, I’ve been doing this for decades.’ I start by listening to them. Sometimes their ideas aren’t necessarily visual, but I can understand the instincts behind them. Like a psychologist, I work to channel those instincts into something cinematic. That’s the difference between a good music video and a great one—it’s about capturing something real, something human.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“It never gets easier. Every project is a mystery before it exists because it’s all in your head. And the more experience you have, the more you know how many things can go wrong.”&nbsp;</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Does the lack of loyalty in the industry ever bother you?&nbsp;JK: “Not at all. There’s always more work out there, more ideas to explore. Careers have hot and cold periods, but I know I keep getting better because I never stop learning. That’s what keeps me relevant. I don’t worry about whether an artist will work with me again—I focus on the work itself.&nbsp;Also, my reputation has only gotten good in the last few years. When I started, no one cared. There were tons of big directors back then. I just happened to be the one who survived.”&nbsp;&nbsp;So longevity is important?&nbsp;JK: “Longevity is everything. Just sticking around is a kind of power.&nbsp;A lot of artists die young, and people romanticize that. But the truth is, your work has to be exceptional. It has to last. Just dying isn’t enough. Plenty of poor artists died in obscurity.”&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;What are some challenges with record labels and their influence on music videos?&nbsp;JK: “The biggest issue is that too many executives get in the way of the artist’s vision. Sometimes it becomes a design-by-committee situation, where too many people give input and the end result feels washed out. The best projects happen when an artist and director work directly together, without unnecessary interference. That’s why my work with Taylor Swift was so strong—it was just the two of us shaping the vision.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“The best projects happen when an artist and director work directly together, without unnecessary interference. That’s why my work with Taylor Swift was so strong—it was just the two of us shaping the vision.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;If you could direct a music video or movie for any artist, who would it be?&nbsp;JK: “Mozart or Ravel. I might not be able to work with them directly, but their music inspires me, and I incorporate that influence into my films. My work is often described as a 90-minute music video, and I say, ‘Guilty as charged.’ That’s my style.”&nbsp;&nbsp;The music video premiere culture has changed. Do you miss the way it was in the MTV era?&nbsp;JK: “Absolutely. There was a time when a new music video release was an event—something people anticipated. We had a little bit of that with Taylor Swift’s releases because of the massive buildup, but the landscape is different now. The challenge is keeping that level of excitement alive in a world of instant content.”&nbsp;&nbsp;What advice would you give young creatives trying to find their voice in an oversaturated world?&nbsp;JK: “The tricky thing about advice is that what works for one era doesn’t always work for the next. Youth culture is constantly shifting, and staying ahead of it is hard. The key is to understand your instincts and trust them. There’s a point where you might not be as in sync with youth culture anymore, and at that stage, your themes have to evolve. The best creatives know how to transition from trend-driven work to something more lasting.”&nbsp;

<blockquote><h1>“The movie ICK is probably my most technically accomplished piece of work.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What has been the most challenging scene you’ve ever had to direct?&nbsp;JK: “In terms of sheer complexity, I’d say ICK is probably my most technically accomplished piece of work.&nbsp;It was written like a $100 million movie, and I didn’t even have a fraction of that budget. There’s a sequence where the character is climbing a massive tower, an entire action scene playing out at high altitude, with a monster chasing him. The audience accepts it for what it is. They see him climbing; they feel the height, the danger.”&nbsp;But in reality? I only had the budget to build about 10 feet of the tower. I had to shoot that same section repeatedly from different angles to make it look like they were climbing 100 feet. That was some serious problem-solving.&nbsp;And even before that, there was a car chase I initially tried to shoot practically, but we didn’t have the budget for it. So I had to go against a green screen. People focus on the CGI monster, which looks good—now, after seven iterations. But what they don’t realize is how much of the film is just a green screen. Entire sequences where it looks like they’re driving through a real landscape, but it’s all CG.”&nbsp;&nbsp;Do you take pride in pulling that off?&nbsp;JK:&nbsp;“It’s a quiet victory. Because you don’t want to advertise it, you don’t want people to know. The best effects are the ones the audience never questions.”&nbsp;&nbsp;Do you still feel insecure every time you start a new project? Many people I talk to have that moment of panic—like, “Oh **, this is the time I’m going to fail.’ Does it ever get easier?&nbsp;JK: “No, it never gets easier. Every project is a mystery before it exists because it’s all in your head. And the more experience you have, the more you know how many things can go wrong.&nbsp;Every time you place the camera and start framing a shot, it’s never exactly what’s in your head. The human being in front of the camera moves slightly differently than you imagined. The set isn’t quite what you pictured. It’s not animation. That’s why many animation directors struggle with live-action—they’re used to controlling every frame. But with live-action, you’re dealing with reality.&nbsp;Every time, there’s that little voice:&nbsp;Am I screwing this up? Is the client going to hate this? Are they going to make me reshoot it? It’s always there.”&nbsp;

You’ve done animation yourself; would you ever want to do more?&nbsp;JK: “No, I like working with humans. The beauty of film, to me, is capturing a performance, a real human being.&nbsp;I don’t see film purely as a technical craft. I’m good at the technical side—I analyze things quickly. But the magic? That’s in the performances. I don’t watch&nbsp;Raiders of the Lost Ark just for Steven Spielberg, even though I love his work. I watch it for Harrison Ford. The magic is in the actors, in what they bring to the screen.”&nbsp;&nbsp;Do you have any ambitions to work in different mediums or venture out in different artistic fields?&nbsp;JK: “No. I have a limited amount of time, and I have more stories to tell than I have time to make them.&nbsp;I watch a lot of films, go to every festival and screening, and I always walk away with frustration. On my next project, there are things I want to improve. I know I’m not there yet.”&nbsp;&nbsp;Final question: when people Google your name, one of the first things that comes up is the Thong Song. Does that ever bother you?&nbsp;JK: “I told myself for years I’d never do a booty video.&nbsp;And then I got the song. I saw the potential. And I thought,&nbsp;You know what? If I’m going to do this, I’m going to make the best one ever.&nbsp;And I did.”&nbsp;

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Joseph Kahn is a director whose work has shaped pop culture for decades. From Britney Spears’&nbsp;Toxic and Eminem’s&nbsp;Without Me to Taylor Swift’s&nbsp;Bad Blood, his music videos have defined generations.&nbsp;Thong Song,&nbsp;The Boy Is Mine—the list goes on.&nbsp;But Kahn’s vision extends far beyond music videos. A master of visual storytelling, he has built a reputation as one of the most innovative directors in music, commercials, and film, making him a sought-after name in entertainment.&nbsp;At the International Film Festival Rotterdam, he screened his latest film,&nbsp;ICK, once again pushing creative boundaries. We sat down with him to discuss his transition between mediums, the discipline required to balance commercial and artistic projects, and the cultural shifts shaping the entertainment industry today.&nbsp;

JOSEPH KAHN: POP CULTURE'S DIRECTOR EXTRAORDINAIRE 

<blockquote><h1>“Whenever I try to script something, the moment I start drawing on the page all those plans go out the window.”</h1></blockquote> You often start drawing without a set script, letting the story emerge naturally. How do you navigate the uncertainty of this process?CW: "Writing is always an act of improvisation and uncertainty, and in comics limiting oneself to only words ignores half of the thinking (i.e. drawing) itself. Besides, whenever I try to script something, the moment I start drawing on the page all those plans go out the window, because the things invoked by a remembered setting or person opens up so many more interesting possibilities and intuited pathways. I’ve found that the mind is an extraordinarily organized thing, governed by language, and it’s my role not to impose an order on it but to find an order that best suits it — or, even better (if this doesn’t sound too pretentious) to find the shape of the order itself.This said, I get up and down from my drawing table several dozen times a day, consumed by despair, so who knows if I’m approaching it all correctly."&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“I get up and down from my drawing table several dozen times a day, consumed by despair...”</h1></blockquote>

<blockquote><h1>“I tend to go half blind when doing comics. I try to use every inch of the page so the reader doesn’t feel ripped off.”&nbsp;</h1></blockquote> The detail in your work is extraordinary, often requiring careful, repeated reading. What attracts you to such an intricate approach to storytelling? And how do you know when a page is ‘done’ or if it still needs more work?CW: "Again, I work almost entirely instinctually and intuitively, trying to ‘listen’ to how something feels or looks rather than worrying whether it suited whatever imaginary reason I had for originally doing it, since those reasons are usually pretty shallow and silly. It’s fine to have these imaginary reasons, but they’re really only a prompt to work; once one sets into that work, then everything changes, and the real thing begins.As for detail, I don’t want the reader to be disappointed and I’d like for my pages to have varying levels of texture; as a kid I’d climb trees in my grandparents’ yard and find myself fascinated by the leaves or horse chestnuts or the green worms that dangled from them, and I want my stuff to at least hint at that level of life, if possible. Though I am well aware that I push the limits of legibility, for which I feel badly. It’s not intended as torture, and I’m trying to be more sensitive to this and, well, legible."&nbsp;<blockquote><h1 style="margin-left:0px;">"I have this compulsion to not cheat anyone, but it’s not intended to make it non-readable."&nbsp;</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;You've often expressed a fascination with the book as an object. How does the physical form influence the way you tell stories? Have you ever considered working in a digital-only medium, and how might that change your creative approach?CW: “This is sort of a dumb comparison, but the ‘return to vinyl’ in the world of recorded music points to a similar inclination: there’s something extremely unsatisfying and anxiety-provoking about only having a computer file of something. The physicality of a book points not only to the poetic uncertainty that we as humans harbor as souls trapped in bodies, but also seems to offer a slight, however false, reassurance of certainty as we all head towards our inevitable ends. I think it also has something to do with social awkwardness; lonelier-feeling people like me seem to tend to prefer something physical, maybe. i.e., we tend to be hoarders, insulating ourselves with things against — something.”

<blockquote><h1>“I always forget whenever I sit down to work just how time-consuming and difficult it is, even though I’ve been doing it for 35 years.”</h1></blockquote> What do you find most challenging about maintaining creativity over long projects like ‘Building Stories’ or ‘Rusty Brown’? Are there specific routines or techniques that help you overcome creative blocks?&nbsp;CW: “I find that I have to trick myself into overcoming self-doubt and despair and sometimes this just means scribbling on the page and seeing what I find in it, or even, if I’m lucky, actually getting one panel drawn; both of these approaches can make a huge difference. I always forget whenever I sit down to work just how time-consuming and difficult it is, even though I’ve been doing it for 35 years. Also: the great cartoonist Kim Deitch has a method where he sets a timer as a sort of self-shaming mechanism to keep him in his chair, which I’ve found also works. Like anything, one has to stay focused, at least for a little while, until something catches, because there’s little to no ‘flow’ in writing comics, at least the way I do them — though believe me, I’ve tried.”&nbsp;Your style is distinct, but clearly nods to classic comic traditions and other forms of art. You've been quoted saying: "Everything is inspired by Joost Swarte." Which other artists or storytellers have influenced you the most, and how do their influences manifest in your work?&nbsp;CW: “Joost’s clarity and precision is not just a style but seems to point to how we remember the world — as word-images that we sort of impose on our experience as a way of identifying and navigating reality, if that doesn’t sound too crazy. Of course he was preceded in this by Hergé and Saint-Ogan and Bateman — and Japanese art — but when I was a teenager and I first saw Joost’s work, something ‘clicked’ in my mind.&nbsp;As for other artists, I’ve answered that question so many times I’ve learned not to since I always leave out someone key; I’ve edited two comics anthologies which serve as good lists, though there’s a whole new generation of cartoonists now, and since we’re discussing European artists, I think Olivier Schrauwen’s ‘Sunday’ is a work of genius and couldn’t recommend it more highly.”

<blockquote><h1>"Art has to have a life of its own."</h1></blockquote> Your narratives often feel raw and vulnerable, tackling personal or difficult themes. How do you cope with the vulnerability of sharing such personal stories with the world?&nbsp;CW: “An artist who isn’t willing to embarrass or mortify oneself is doing something that maybe is tangential to art (and, especially, life). What John Updike called ‘hidden secrets’ and Kubrick referred to as invoking affection in the viewer/reader is for what I aim — for better or for worse. Art has to have a life of its own. Anything else creative can live for as long as it has some sort of ancillary life-support, like fashion, but once that plug is pulled, it will either die — or maybe start to breathe on its own.” The comic art landscape has changed significantly over the past few decades. How do you perceive the current state of comics and graphic novels? Are there any trends that excite or concern you?&nbsp;CW: “I’m impressed at how the last couple of cartoonist generations have shifted more towards the drawing / looking end of the spectrum but still make compelling and literate work, work which has a quality to it that someone like me, who thinks of a story as its core, misses out on. In some ways, the stuff is closer to what I was doing in my early twenties, and I’ve tried to allow a little of that back in, inspired by younger artists’ examples.”<blockquote><h1>“I can’t imagine AI wasting its time being ‘trained’ on comics”</h1></blockquote>AI tools are now capable of generating comics. Have you ever tried creating a comic ‘in the style of Chris Ware’ using AI, and what was your reaction?CW: "At least for the moment, the best comics are AI-proof, whereas a comic page can be shallowly visually and textually imitated, the rhythms and gestures and ineffable sensations that literate and sensitive cartoonists evoke on a page through the reading of pictures — which I think is what the real life of comics is — are not. Though it doesn’t really matter since I can’t imagine AI wasting its time being ‘trained’ on comics anymore than the general human populace has been; we cartoonists do a very strange, outer-orbit thing, and in the planet’s larger trend towards becoming conscious and eventually getting rid of we worker-ant humans, comics play a laughably insignificant role."

<blockquote><h1>“Sometimes I manage to recapture that sense I had as a kid gluing together pieces of construction paper in my grandmother’s basement…”</h1></blockquote> Has the creative process changed for you over time—does it ever get easier, or is it always the same grueling effort? And if it's still challenging, what motivates you to keep pushing through?CW: “It doesn’t get easier, though I guess if it did, I’d be worried. Sometimes I manage to recapture that sense I had as a kid gluing together pieces of construction paper in my grandmother’s basement, but such sensations are always fleeting. Besides, I’m not even sure what I was thinking and feeling as a kid other than I didn’t have a lot to work against, which really is something of an advantage, because 99% of personal epiphany is (I think) born of ignorance. Mostly I find myself buoyed by surprise, i.e. something turning up on the page I least expected, no matter how horrible or damning; everything else is just self-deception.”

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This summer, we had the pleasure of meeting Chris Ware, the celebrated graphic novelist behind Building Stories and Rusty Brown, during a guided tour he gave in Haarlem. Later in the year, we reconnected, and he graciously shared more about his creative journey. With his intricate designs and unflinching emotional depth, Ware’s work pushes the boundaries of what comics can achieve.In this conversation, he opens up about his creative process—improvising without a script, navigating self-doubt, and finding meaning in the physicality of books. For anyone fascinated by the mysteries of creativity, Ware’s insights offer a rare and honest glimpse into the joys, struggles, and surprises of bringing stories to life.

BUILDING STORIES: CHRIS WARE REFLECTS ON COMICS, CREATIVITY, AND CRAFT

<h1>Why does fear hold us back?&nbsp;</h1>&nbsp;Fear is a universal experience, rooted in our instincts. While it once helped us survive physical threats, today, it often shows up in less dangerous contexts— public speaking, creative challenges, or pitching ideas. This response, known as the "freeze" can be paralyzing.&nbsp;I know this all too well. At age 8, I attended a live show based on the UK TV game show Double Dare. The host picked children from the audience to participate in silly challenges. I spent the whole show alternating between dread that I’d be chosen and euphoric relief when someone else’s name was called.&nbsp;The fear of being publicly humiliated consumed me. Looking back, I wonder what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to get on stage. Maybe I would have fallen flat on my face, or maybe I would have discovered a knack for performance. I’ll never know because fear won that day.&nbsp;The same fear often rears its head in creative work. It’s easier to stay safe, to avoid risks, and to rely on familiar solutions. But playing it safe limits creativity. The best ideas come from stepping into the unknown.

<h1>What is Creative Resilience?&nbsp;</h1>&nbsp;Creative resilience is the ability to adapt, persist, and grow in the face of challenges and setbacks. It’s what helps us navigate the creative process despite fear or failure.&nbsp;Fear in creativity often stems from:&nbsp;Fear of failure: A deeply ingrained habit from years of being taught that mistakes have dire consequences.&nbsp;Uncertainty: The unpredictable reactions of peers, clients, or audiences.&nbsp;Rejection: Emotional investment in our work makes criticism feel personal.&nbsp;Creative resilience isn’t about eliminating fear but learning to move forward despite it. It’s a skill that allows us to take risks, experiment, and bounce back when things don’t go as planned.

<h1>How can you cultivate resilience?&nbsp;</h1>&nbsp;1. Start with the fear of failure&nbsp;Our brains are wired to overinflate threats. Every time we avoid something because of fear, we reinforce that it’s dangerous. We need a manual override.Fear of failure often comes from the way we’ve been conditioned. Many education systems reward getting things ‘right’ and punish mistakes, leaving us with an aversion to risk. In creative work, this mindset is a barrier to innovation.How to confront the fear of failure:&nbsp;Take micro-risks:&nbsp;Do something small that scares you every day. Share an idea in a meeting, introduce yourself to someone new, or post on social media. These “moments of playfulness” chip away at fear.&nbsp;Reflect on outcomes:&nbsp;Was the fear justified? What did you learn? Often, the experience is less catastrophic than we imagine.&nbsp;Reframe risk as curiosity:&nbsp;Instead of thinking about failure, focus on the potential to discover something new.&nbsp;Engaging in small, deliberate acts of bravery builds confidence. Over time, stepping into the unknown becomes less daunting.

2. Practice self-compassion&nbsp;Treat yourself with the same kindness you’d show a close friend. Self-compassion creates a safe environment for creativity to thrive.&nbsp;Creative work can be emotionally draining, especially when things don’t go as planned. The pressure to be perfect often leads to harsh self-criticism, which only stifles growth.How to build self-compassion:&nbsp;Acknowledge emotions: When frustration or self-doubt arises, notice and name those feelings.&nbsp;Shift your perspective: Ask yourself how you’d respond if a friend were in the same situation. Would you berate them or offer encouragement?&nbsp;Celebrate progress: Creative journeys aren’t linear. Take time to acknowledge achievements, even small ones.&nbsp;By fostering self-compassion, you create a mental space where risks feel less intimidating, and mistakes become learning opportunities.

3. Learn to handle feedback&nbsp;Feedback is not a reflection of your worth. It’s an opportunity to refine and improve your work.&nbsp;Feedback is essential for creative growth, but it can be tough to hear. Emotional investment in our work makes criticism feel personal, triggering defensiveness or self-doubt.&nbsp;Strategies for embracing feedback:&nbsp;Separate self-worth from work: Remind yourself that criticism is about the project, not you.&nbsp;Seek actionable insights: Ask for specific feedback to avoid vague or overly critical responses.&nbsp;Pause and reflect: Notice your initial emotional response but don’t act on it immediately.&nbsp;The more you expose yourself to constructive criticism, the easier it becomes to see feedback as a tool for improvement rather than a threat.

<h1>Why does resilience matter in creativity?&nbsp;</h1>&nbsp;To be creative, you need to be free to play and experiment without fear of the consequences. As John Cleese said, ‘You’re either free to play or you’re not.’&nbsp;Playfulness is at the heart of creativity. It’s what allows us to explore, take risks, and push boundaries. Fear stifles that freedom.Building creative resilience helps you:&nbsp;Move beyond fear to embrace experimentation.&nbsp;Recover quickly from setbacks.&nbsp;Approach challenges with curiosity and confidenceWhen you cultivate resilience, you unlock the ability to think boldly and deliver work that stands out.

<h1>Putting it all together&nbsp;</h1>&nbsp;Creative resilience isn’t built overnight. It requires practice, reflection, and a willingness to confront discomfort. But the rewards are immense: greater confidence, stronger ideas, and the freedom to explore your full creative potential.&nbsp;So, the next time fear whispers in your ear, remember, it’s just a part of the process. Take a deep breath, show yourself compassion, and step forward anyway. Each small step you take, despite fear or discomfort, strengthens your creative resilience. Embrace the unknown, experiment boldly, and trust that even failure is a valuable teacher. The process of building resilience isn’t just about surviving creative challenges—it’s about thriving in them, unlocking possibilities, and ultimately discovering what you’re truly capable of.

David Thompson, Senior Lecturer in Creative Advertising at the University of Lincoln<img class="image_resized" style="width:50%;" src="https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/1662999980848_70fc4a0f5d.jpeg" alt="1662999980848.jpeg" srcset="https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/thumbnail_1662999980848_70fc4a0f5d.jpeg 156w,https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/small_1662999980848_70fc4a0f5d.jpeg 500w,https://tioc-cdn.ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/medium_1662999980848_70fc4a0f5d.jpeg 750w," sizes="100vw">

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Creativity is an exciting journey, but it’s not without its challenges. David Thompson, Senior Lecturer in Creative Advertising at the University of Lincoln, explores how to overcome the fears that can hold us back. Through personal stories and practical advice, Thompson inspires us to take risks, bounce back from setbacks, and unlock our full creative potential. Consider this article a powerful reminder that resilience is the key to thriving in creativity.

CREATIVE RESILIENCE: OVERCOMING FEAR AND THRIVING IN CREATIVITY

<blockquote><h1>"I don’t wait for inspiration but treat my art like the job that it is."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What sparked your interest in drawing?NV: “I don’t come from a family of artists or creative people, but even as a child, I was always drawing. I was particularly fascinated by comics. I would copy Disney comics and Mickey Mouse when I was very young. As a teenager, I became more interested in Japanese manga, which further fueled my passion for drawing.Here in Italy, you can enroll in an art-focused high school, and there, I was first introduced to the art world. I eventually continued my education at the Academy of Fine Arts, studying design and photography.My style during art school was heavily influenced by illustration and comics, but at the same time, I was also exploring materials and techniques to see what worked best for me. I was particularly interested in analog photography, and in my research, I zoomed in on the future of analog images in a digital era. This sparked my interest in photography and how it is both a physical object and a fleeting digital memory.”

The vintage photos became your first canvas, right?NV: “Yes, I began working directly on vintage photographs back in 2013. I started out by collecting old photos from markets and eBay and then painting and drawing directly on top of them. My aim was, on the one hand, to preserve the memory of the unknown individuals in these photos while giving them a new life. The work caught the attention of gallery owners and curators, which boosted my career as a professional artist.”&nbsp;We also interviewed <a href="https://www.tioc.nl/article/ERIK-KESSELS:-PERSONALITY-OVER-PORTFOLIO">Erik Kessels</a>, who creates artwork with found photographs. I wonder if you ever feel uncomfortable manipulating vintage photographs?NV: “I don’t feel discomfort because I don’t know the people in the photos, which creates emotional distance. For me, the challenge lies in working with the original, historical objects rather than copies. The manipulation serves as a bridge between past and present, creating a dialogue through art.”

<blockquote><h1>"Activism is an essential part of my work, particularly in critiquing the objectification of women in fashion magazines."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Why did you transition from working on vintage photographs to magazines?NV: “In 2017, I participated in the 100 Days Project on Instagram, where I shared one magazine page transformation each day. However, my interest in working on magazines began earlier, when I was a design student in 2002, turning models in magazines into monsters to critique their objectification. By 2017, I had a clearer artistic style, and the project evolved into a visual diary addressing themes like anti-capitalism and feminism. This work resonated with people, and I began conducting workshops to involve entire communities in the creative process.”

Can you elaborate on the activist element in your work?NV: “I’ve spent a large amount of time in Milan, the fashion capital of the world, and you see firsthand that it’s not all glitz and glamour. There is a darker side to it all. One that I address in my work.Activism is an essential part of my work, particularly in critiquing the objectification of women in fashion magazines. I believe in transforming frustration into creativity, and I use art as a tool for discussion. By manipulating these magazine images, I can address topics like feminism, anti-capitalism, and climate change in a visually engaging way using the very source of that frustration: the fashion magazines themselves. I encourage others to use art to express their views and turn their frustrations into meaningful creations. It’s very therapeutic and beats staying frustrated about something.”

<blockquote><h1>“My training and experience have helped me work efficiently and avoid creative blocks.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What does your creative process look like?NV: “For smaller works like vintage photos, I start by selecting a group of pictures and working on them as a series to maintain aesthetic and stylistic consistency. For magazines, I can complete one page in about an hour. I don’t wait for inspiration but treat my art like the job that it is, planning and creating within specific timeframes to maintain productivity. I didn’t always work as a full-time artist, so I had to plan my creative endeavors around my work schedule. I got used to planning my work, and that has certainly paid off. My training and experience have helped me work efficiently and avoid creative blocks.”&nbsp;What is the most challenging part of the artistic process for you?NV: “Sometimes, I dislike my own work, but I’ve learned to share it regardless to gauge public reaction. Interestingly, people often love the pieces I dislike, which helps me see my work in a new light. Commissioned projects can also be challenging because of specific client guidelines, but in the end, seeing satisfied clients makes the effort worthwhile.”

What are your favorite tools or materials to work with?NV: “I love using acrylics, gel pens, stickers, and washi tape (a type of rice paper tape). These materials remind me of my childhood and are quick and easy to work with, which suits my process.”&nbsp;You’re a trained photographer and designer, but your work merges different genres. How would you describe your work?NV: “My style is a combination of photography, illustration, and collage. My preferred color palette is neons and pastels. I often start with photography and transform it into something new through my manipulations. It’s difficult to categorize my work strictly, as it blends elements from different mediums.”&nbsp;Does working with other photographers’ images inspire you to create more of your own?NV: “I’ve experimented with self-portraits and manipulating my own photographs, but it initially caused me anxiety. In the future, I’d like to work on portraits of friends and family, as knowing the subjects personally could offer new creative possibilities. I’m not rushing the process, though, as I believe each project comes at the right time.”

<blockquote><h1>“I believe in transforming frustration into creativity, and I use art as a tool for discussion.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;You are very active on social media. Do you have advice for artists trying to gain visibility online?NV: “Research is key. Follow artists whose work you admire and study where they exhibit or are featured. Consistently produce and share your work, but don’t obsess over views or comparisons. Focus on building a solid portfolio and creating an online presence, such as a blog or website, to showcase your work. Visibility takes time, so stay consistent and be patient.You also have to take initiative. I work with quite a few brands, and in the beginning, I reached out to brands, showing them how I used their products in my work. This led to collaborations, such as workshops with a Japanese washi tape brand. Over time, as my visibility grew, brands began contacting me directly. It’s a good idea for artists to start with small collaborations, such as with art supply stores or local brands, to build relationships and gain experience.”&nbsp;You spent a good amount of time traveling all over Europe to do workshops. Does all that travel and teaching ever take time away from your art?NV: “I’ve found a balance between workshops and my own art. Workshops allow me to connect with communities and share my process, which is an important part of being an artist. I also work on commissions, ensuring I’m always creating art in some capacity.”

<blockquote><h1>"The creative journey never ends, and I’m excited to see where it takes me."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What’s next for you?NV: “I’ll continue exploring new techniques and possibly work more on portraits of people I know. I’m also interested in opportunities to collaborate, such as residencies and workshops in different locations. The creative journey never ends, and I’m excited to see where it takes me.”

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Italian artist <a href="https://naomivona.art/">Naomi Vona</a>, a self-described “archival parasite,” transforms vintage photographs, postcards, and magazines into eye-catching works of art. Armed with acrylic paint, washi tape, stickers, and gel pens, she blends analog photography, collage, and illustration into bold creations. Through her innovative style, Vona explores themes of identity, feminism, and nostalgia, crafting pieces that are both visually stunning and deeply thoughtful: a reimagining of found visuals into vibrant, meaningful narratives.

TURNING PAGES: NAOMI VONA’S CREATIVE JOURNEY

Since then, Hoeke has established herself as a leading columnist for outlets like De Volkskrant. Her distinctive voice, characterized by a blend of humor, personal insight, and social critique, has earned her a loyal following. Beyond her solo achievements, Hoeke is part of a dynamic duo with husband Marcel van Roosmalen, a prominent journalist and satirist. Together, they also bring their unique perspectives and humor to the stage, sharing engaging anecdotes and reflections that offer audiences an intimate look at their lives and careers. We sat down with Hoeke to discuss her career and how creativity has helped her face challenges and professional setbacks.&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“I learned that while creativity is essential, you also have to figure out how to make a living.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Let’s go back to the source: your family. Did you grow up in a creative environment?EH: “My father [Ed. Rob Hoeke] was a boogie-woogie and blues pianist who performed in bars across the country. He taught me that creativity could be a guiding force in life, but he didn’t emphasize material success. My father even had a disdain for money, often telling us that life was all about people, not profits. My mother, however, came from a family of gardeners who commercialized their skills. That mix of pure artistry and entrepreneurial mindset gave me a balanced perspective. I learned that while creativity is essential, you also have to figure out how to make a living.”

What were you like as a child? Did you have any creative outlets?EH: “I was always creating, whether it was drawing, listening to music, or making magazines. One of my favorite memories is producing a satirical women’s magazine with my cousin. We mocked the extravagant makeovers and the caricature-like personas of editors. It was a way to express ourselves and critique societal norms in a playful manner.I also remember charging people 10 cents to visit the little ‘museum’ I had created in my bedroom. To me, creativity was play, but there was always a pragmatic side to it. It was a way to explore the world.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>"Writing can be a solitary, often contemplative process. It often brings out a certain melancholic tone."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What motivated your choice to study journalism?EH: “I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do. After finishing high school, I considered fields like history or social work. In the end, I followed my best friend, who had decided to study journalism. But I didn’t get in at first and spent a year working odd jobs. Looking back, I didn’t have a clear plan—it was more about exploring options and figuring out what felt right.As a child I loved observing people and creating what in hindsight I’d call satirical content. Those elements definitely carried over into my journalism and columns. Humor and observation are still my primary tools. I enjoy digging into societal trends, finding the absurdities, and presenting them in a way that makes people think and laugh.”

What is your creative process like as a columnist?EH: “Writing can be a solitary, often contemplative process. It often brings out a certain melancholic tone, even if that doesn’t fully reflect my personality. I have to be mindful not to overindulge in that mood because I’m not just about falling leaves, red wine and Nick Cave records. Life is dynamic — sometimes it’s Spring, and sometimes it’s Fall — and in my writing I need to capture that balance.”&nbsp;Do you always have ideas for your columns?EH: “Not always! Like any writer, there are days when I sit behind the computer and think, Now what? It’s natural to hit a creative wall. But I’ve learned to rely on experience to get me through those moments. Sometimes it’s about observing the world around you and finding inspiration in the smallest details.”&nbsp;You’ve decided to pay it forward and teach others, at your kitchen table, to learn how to write. What do you aim to teach?EH: “My workshops focus on the power of words — how small adjustments in tone or phrasing can completely shift the impact of a message. This applies to writing columns, but also to everyday communication. My goal is to help people articulate their thoughts clearly and effectively, whether they’re crafting an article or addressing a personal conflict.”

<blockquote><h1>"When you're knocked down, you learn to get back up — stronger and with a better understanding of your own boundaries.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Speaking of conflict: how did you handle pushback after being fired early in your career?EH: “It was a tough experience and a major blow to my confidence. The public criticism was overwhelming, and I felt very isolated at the time. I went through a period of doubt and second-guessing myself. But I realized that setbacks like these can also be transformative. They force you to confront your vulnerabilities and find strength within yourself. Over time, I rebuilt my career, starting fresh as a freelance columnist, and I’m stronger for it.”&nbsp;We spoke to other creatives, including Erik Kessels, who at some point in their career have met with public scrutiny of their work. How has that experience effect your create process? If at all?EH: There was a time when public criticism, particularly on social media, was overwhelming. It made me cautious in my creative process, which I regret. But those experiences taught me resilience. When you're knocked down, you learn to get back up —stronger and with a better understanding of your own boundaries.”&nbsp;Has becoming a parent also influenced your perspective?EH: “Parenthood changes everything. It alters your perspective on problems, your sense of responsibility, and even your creative output. Raising children also emphasizes the importance of communication. I firmly believe that language is a tool not just for self-expression but for fostering understanding, whether with your family or the world.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“My workshops focus on the power of words — how small adjustments in tone or phrasing can completely shift the impact of a message.”</h1></blockquote>

<blockquote><h1>"Don’t aim for perfection right away. Writing is a process, and mistakes are part of it."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Your husband, Marcel, is also a writer and columnists and you both write about your lives together: does that ever influence your relationship or the family dynamic?EH: “It’s definitely a juggling act! We both draw from our lives for inspiration, so there’s sometimes a playful negotiation over who gets to write about a shared experience. But it’s also rewarding. We understand each other’s creative process and the ups and downs that come with it. There’s a shared empathy for deadlines, writer’s block, and the vulnerability of putting your thoughts out into the world.”&nbsp;In recent years, your husband has become something of a media darling. How has that shaped your relationship?EH: “It’s been a unique journey. Early on in our relationship, I was the one with a more public presence, while Marcel was quietly honing his craft, working tirelessly in his small attic office. Success came later for him, and I couldn’t be prouder. Watching his talent finally get the recognition it deserves has been wonderful. But fame doesn’t define our dynamic — it’s our mutual respect for each other’s work and the ability to celebrate each other’s wins that matter most.”&nbsp;Finally, what advice would you give to aspiring writers?EV: “Don’t aim for perfection right away. Writing is a process, and mistakes are part of it. Learn to find joy in experimenting and revising. Also, stay curious — about people, about the world, and about yourself. That curiosity will fuel your creativity and keep you inspired.”&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“Stay curious — about people, about the world, and about yourself. That curiosity will fuel your creativity and keep you inspired.”</h1></blockquote>

In yet another career-changing move, Eva Hoeke has started publishing her columns directly on her platform. This decision allows her to maintain creative independence while offering fresh content and insights outside of traditional media outlets. Explore her latest work <a href="https://petjeaf.com/evahoeke">here</a>.

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Dutch journalist Eva Hoeke is known for her sharp wit, candid commentary, and an uncanny ability to navigate the highs and lows of a career in the media spotlights. She first rose to fame as editor-in-chief of the lifestyle magazine Jackie. Her tenure there became a pivotal moment when she was forces to resign in 2011 following a controversy over a racially insensitive remark about pop icon Rihanna. Demonstrating accountability and resilience, Hoeke turned the experience into an opportunity to refocus her career.

 JOURNALIST EVA HOEKE ON CREATIVITY, CAREER INSIGHTS, AND RESILIENCE

<blockquote><h1>“Creativity is about being open to new perspectives: something the world needs more than ever."&nbsp;</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Antoine Peters began his career on the runways of Amsterdam Fashion Week before transitioning into creating designs that blend fashion, art, and architecture. His thought-provoking work, which explores the relationship between clothing and the human form, has been featured in renowned museums like NOMA, OCAT Shanghai, Bonnefanten Museum and the Fresno Art Museum. But Peters also embraces commercial endeavors, collaborating with brands like Kidscase, Karlsson, United Nude, and Eastpak. He loves bold prints, nineties icons (his studio is covered in smiley faces and Alf memorabilia), and textiles that define his unique aesthetic.&nbsp;Where did your interest in fashion come from?&nbsp;AP: "For me, fashion is the ultimate form of non-verbal communication, which is essential for someone like me who isn’t naturally social. It allowed me to express myself in a deliberate, enjoyable way. Attending the art academy in Arnhem was transformative. It was there that my passion for fashion took root. I arrived at the initial audition not even knowing what a bobbin was, but I brought photos of my wardrobe and a three-meter-high smiley face I had painted on my wall. I was accepted, and that was the start of a very intense period of my life, with many sleepless nights, but it brought out the best in me. Through it all, my parents were always there for me, even if they didn’t fully understand the art world. Every Fashion Week, they'd be sitting front row, cheering me on. Their support has always meant the world to me."&nbsp;<h1>&nbsp;</h1><blockquote><h1>"Fashion is the ultimate form of non-verbal communication, which is essential for someone like me who isn’t naturally social.”</h1></blockquote>

Why did you eventually step away from catwalk shows?&nbsp;AP: "It turned into an unsustainable cycle. I managed everything on my own, including sales, and it was just too much. I was already critical of the industry’s overproduction: so much is made but never worn. Becoming a father shifted my perspective. I realized I didn’t want to contribute to overproduction anymore. Now, I engage with fashion through art and projects that encourage people to slow down and find joy. It feels right."&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“Becoming a father shifted my perspective. I realized I didn’t want to contribute to overproduction anymore.”</h1></blockquote>

We're a platform that pushes for creativity, but what exactly is your definition of creativity?&nbsp;AP: "Creativity is about being open to new perspectives: something the world needs more than ever. It’s been the cornerstone of my work since the academy: evolving and staying receptive to ideas. True creativity involves connecting with others and evoking reactions, whether positive or not. For me, it’s about spreading optimism.I believe everyone has their own form of creativity; it just needs to be nurtured and sometimes requires stepping out of your comfort zone. My creative process can be draining, even making me grumpy at times. But I’ve learned to trust that, in the end, things will fall into place."&nbsp;

Does your creative process have a structure? What sparks your creativity?&nbsp;AP: "Music is a huge part of my process, especially instrumental electronic music that helps me get into a flow. The structure varies depending on the project; sometimes, it’s abstract, like when I’m designing a hotel room. I’ve gathered ideas and clippings over twenty years that I draw from. Inspiration is easy; the challenge is turning it into something tangible."&nbsp;&nbsp;What do you do when you get stuck?&nbsp;AP: "Talking to someone can help break the cycle of overthinking. It doesn’t need to be a deep conversation, just enough to shift my thoughts. Sometimes, stepping back and letting things fall into place on their own is necessary.There's a mental strain when you're constantly processing ideas and making connections. And sure, there are days when I spend all my time in the studio and feel like I haven’t accomplished anything. But that’s part of the process, and those days aren’t wasted. I come back the next day, ready to keep going. The satisfaction comes from the work itself. I’m still working with textiles, forms, and communication in a multidisciplinary way, similar to my catwalk shows where everything — from the logo to the music and invitations — had to come together seamlessly."&nbsp;&nbsp;Both you and your wife [ed. graphic designer Karen van de Kraats] work in the creative scene: how does that influence your daily life? How do you manage to switch off and not be 'on' all the time?&nbsp;AP: "I’m quite good at switching off. Home is home, and weekends are sacred. But creativity is ever-present. At home, even tasks like creating birth announcements or holiday cards become special projects. For us, these aren’t chores; they’re chances to make something meaningful.We look for meaning in everything we do, even in things as simple as New Year’s cards or family football shirts. For instance, I designed shirts with a circle print symbolizing family, unity, and strength, using circles drawn by each family member. It’s not about meeting expectations but about the joy of the process. The objects in our home all have stories and personalities — they aren’t just objects, but reminders of where they come from and who made them. Some rugs are four generations old, while other items come from modern designers. It all holds meaning."

<blockquote><h1>“My creative process can be draining, even making me grumpy at times. But I’ve learned to trust that, in the end, things will fall into place.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Has becoming a parent changed your work or your work process?&nbsp;AP: “Yes, I now work within structured hours. Before, I could work any time, even late into the evening, most weekends. That’s changed, but it’s not a bad thing, it's just different. I prioritize being a father, and there’s nothing better than spending time with my sons, teaching them, or simply having fun. I’m better at separating work from family life.&nbsp;Balancing it all is a juggling act. During holidays, we often bring our oldest to the studio without a strict plan or idea and just create. We’ll put on music, toss some materials on the table, and he’ll start drawing. It’s a playful way for him to explore new things, and it’s great seeing him get creative without any pressure.Having kids has changed my work rhythm and my outlook on life. It’s reshaped how I view work. I see it as a catalyst. It’s accelerated things I already valued, like slowing down and putting things into perspective."&nbsp;&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>"Having kids has changed my work rhythm and my outlook on life. It’s reshaped how I view work. I see it as a catalyst. It’s accelerated things I already valued, like slowing down and putting things into perspective."</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;Your oldest son has been making a name for himself as an artist as well. How do you juggle supporting those artistic endeavors and his talent without adding pressure? How do you make sure you don't become a stage dad?AP: “He was always drawing, and at one point, we started to post his drawings on Instagram, which led to unexpected opportunities. He has sold some pieces and was already designing tapestries for a company like MOOOI at the age of nine. It's great, but we put zero pressure on him. There are times when he doesn’t paint or draw at all, and that’s fine.Again, it’s all a balancing act: we don’t want it to look like we’re exploiting him, and he has to want to do it himself. So, we only post things occasionally and always include context — like a drawing session, music, or a museum visit. Beyond that, we don’t push it."&nbsp;He's quite literally following in your footsteps because he doesn't just design, like you, he also teaches.&nbsp;AP: “Yes, he’s taught workshops at the art academy in Maastricht for three years in a row. I'll drive him there, and we spend the day there. We bring some candy, play some music, and go through the exercises together. We design various activities, mostly focused on intuitive drawing and disruption. The best part was that, in his first session, the students didn’t know who their instructor would be, and suddenly, they were being taught by a seven-year-old. It caught them off guard and got them to reconnect with their inner child, which is exactly what the workshop is about.”&nbsp;

You teach at a number of academies: what do you enjoy about teaching?&nbsp;AP: "Teaching sharpens my own analytical skills and is rewarding. I guide students, give feedback, and watch them grow, which energizes me and enriches my work. I emphasize starting with offline inspiration: using physical mood boards to activate different parts of the brain."&nbsp;&nbsp;And, finally, you are a very hands-on creative, as in literally making things by hand. Do you incorporate digital media or AI into your work?&nbsp;AP: "I use digital tools for technical drawings, but they’re just tools, not the goal. I adapt based on each project’s needs. My pattern-drawing foundation from the academy is still invaluable. While I’m interested in AI and digital tools, I see them as complements rather than focal points. For example, I use Instagram, but it’s something I schedule into my workflow."&nbsp;&nbsp;How do you see yourself now, starting as a fashion designer and branching out into other areas?&nbsp;AP: "There's not one individual label that fits. Everything I do connects back to the body and textiles, which I find fascinating. I’m not just designing clothes anymore; I’m making abstract works, bags, and even hotel rooms. Fashion is deeply personal: it shapes how we move and feel. That’s the magic of it."&nbsp;&nbsp;

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Antoine Peters has seamlessly transitioned from the high-stakes world of fashion design to becoming a multidisciplinary artist known for his bold creativity and innovative spirit. His journey is marked by resilience and a commitment to redefining artistic boundaries. We met in his treasure trove of a studio where Peters opened up about the experiences that shaped his career, how he evolved as an artist, father, and teacher, and why creativity is a way of life.&nbsp;

FROM HIGH-FASHION DESIGNER TO VISIONARY ARTIST: ANTOINE PETERS 

In an era where technology, especially AI, is rapidly accelerating both the speed and volume of creative outputs, it is more important than ever to share the journey behind creation. Showing the “how” behind the “what” allows creators to emphasize skill development, foster authenticity, and highlight the human aspects of creativity that distinguish genuine efforts from automated outputs. And yes, we know that sharing your creative journey, with all its trials and triumphs, can feel daunting, but the rewards far outweigh the risks. Here are key reasons why process transparency is crucial.&nbsp;<h1>Authenticity &amp; Trust</h1>As AI-generated content becomes more prevalent, audiences increasingly seek authenticity. Sharing the steps behind your final product reassures viewers that real human effort went into the work, especially in fields like art, writing, and journalism. This openness builds trust and adds value to your finished work.

<a href="https://www.tioc.nl/article/KOOS-BUSTER:-THE-POSTERBOY-OF-MODERN-CERAMICS">Koos Busters, the Minister of Ceramic Affairs. Click to read full interview.</a>&nbsp;<h1> Educational Value</h1>The creative process is where real learning happens. By sharing how you outline a novel, sketch an illustration, or compose music, you reveal the decisions and problem-solving that shape the final product. This transparency helps others appreciate the craft involved and can even provide them with guidance on their own creative paths.&nbsp;<h1>The Human Touch</h1>As AI content grows more common, highlighting your unique human process can set you apart. Showcasing work-in-progress snapshots or behind-the-scenes glimpses allows you to demonstrate the personal touch and originality that AI-generated content lacks. This approach reinforces the distinct value of human creativity in a technology-driven landscape.

<a href="https://www.tioc.nl/article/CREATIVITY-AT-WORK:-CARLIJN-KINGMA'S-CARTHOGRAPHY">Carlijn Kingma's carthography. Click to read full interview.</a>&nbsp;<h1>Building Connection</h1>The creative journey is a story that resonates with audiences. Sharing your creative process allows your audience to become part of your journey, enhancing their loyalty and investment in what you create.&nbsp;<h1>Combatting Misinformation</h1>Process transparency is also a tool against misinformation and deepfakes. Documenting your creative journey provides proof of authenticity, which can be vital in a time when deceptive content is prevalent. Techniques like blockchain could even further verify the originality and credibility of digital work, adding a layer of protection against content manipulation.

<a href="https://www.tioc.nl/article/THE-CREATIVE-SOUL-IN-THE-DIGITAL-AGE:-A-CONVERSATION-WITH-VINCENT-DE-BOER">Artist Vincent De Boer. Click to read full interview.</a>&nbsp;<h1>How to Share Your Creative Process</h1> <a href="https://www.tioc.nl/register">Sign up</a>&nbsp;with our TIOC platform to showcase your work through time-lapse videos, drafts, sketches, or behind-the-scenes footage. Documenting your thought process through blogs or vlogs is another great way to offer insights into your creative decisions, allowing others to see the intentionality behind your work.

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Creativity isn’t just about the final masterpiece — it’s about the journey that gets you there. When creators pull back the curtain on their process, they build real trust and connection, showing that creativity is less about effortless genius and more about trial, error, and discovery.&nbsp;

WHY SHARING YOUR CREATIVE JOURNEY MATTERS

<blockquote><h1>“What I love most about ceramics is that it's like turning drawings into real, tangible things.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;We're meeting in Amsterdam Noord, your home turf. What was it like growing up here?KB: “As a child I was always making something. I'd spend hours drawing and copying my older brother's creations, and later in high school, I designed my own diaries. I come from an artistic family: my mum was a kindergarten teacher, my dad a mime artist, and my grandmother a portrait silhouette artist. I spent a lot of time in theaters and museums—not the modern ones, more like the Rijksmuseum. I originally wanted to be a mime like my dad, but after several failed auditions, my brother, who was already studying at the Design Academy in Eindhoven, suggested I try art school. That's how I ended up auditioning for the Rietveld Academy.”&nbsp;While at Rietveld: did you start working with ceramics immediately, or was it a longer process?KB: “During my time at Rietveld, I had the opportunity to explore various art forms. I enjoyed each one of them, but I felt the need to specialize. I wanted to excel in one thing. I initially chose ceramics, thinking I might switch to fine arts or audiovisuals later. However, as I immersed myself in ceramics, I realized it was the perfect medium for my narratives. Today, I have such a deep understanding of ceramics that I can use it to effectively tell my stories.”

<blockquote><h1>“Working with ceramics brings me joy because it turns simple materials into meaningful art.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;So that's where Koos Buster, the ceramic artist, was born. Just to confirm, Koos Buster is your real name, right?KB: "Yes, I'm named after Koos, my father's best friend. They agreed at sixteen that if they had sons, they would name them after each other. My brother was born first and named Wout after another friend. Koos was disappointed, so my father promised that the next son would be named Koos. However, my father thought I looked more like a Buster when I was born, so everybody knows me as Buster.It wasn't until I graduated from Rietveld that I decided to use Koos Buster as my artist name. My work has a personal quality, so working under my first two names felt fitting.&nbsp;I enjoy having two names because I can use them as characters in my own mind. When I'm alone in the studio, I have no one to brainstorm with, but this way, I can spark ideas with myself, sometimes even out loud. Koos is a bit more conservative, and Buster is a bit more daring. It's kind of a joke, but it works well because I can express both sides and have internal discussions or conversations. It's like saying, 'Yeah, you're right. Okay, let's go!' and it feels really good."

<blockquote><h1>“Creativity has a lot to do with keeping a childlike sense of wonder and embracing naive playfulness…but it's also serious work.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;What is so appealing about ceramics?KB: "What I love most about ceramics is that it's like turning drawings into real, tangible things. Making something from nothing is incredibly rewarding. It's about paying attention to the beauty of objects and giving them importance. Working with ceramics brings me joy because it turns simple materials into meaningful art. I love creating items that people can use and appreciate in their homes.&nbsp;You graduated with a ceramic cleaning cart and have since turned every day, even mundane, objects like light switches and cigarette butts into sculptures. What fascinates you about these objects?KB: “It all started with making clay versions of things that usually go unnoticed and putting them on a pedestal to give them some love. It was like saying, 'Hey, I'm glad you're here.' That was the beginning, and it grew from there. There's also a bit of nostalgia involved, wanting to keep things that might disappear. Turning these objects into sculptures gives them a lasting place.It's also connected to my view on well-being and fairness. It bugs me how some people get more attention than others or are considered more important. I don't get that because everyone has a story to tell and one that is worth listening to. This inequality really bothers me, so I channel these feelings into objects. By focusing on overlooked items, I'm challenging what society considers worthy of attention and value.”

Can you tell us more about your creative process?KB: “I draw inspiration from many different places. Walking around the city and noticing interesting objects also sparks new ideas for me. But I get especially fired up when I go to concerts. Watching performers who are genuinely passionate about their craft fills me with ideas. It's not that I want to replicate what they do, but their energy and creativity motivate me to create.”&nbsp;So, no equivalent of writer's block, then?KB: “Not really. When I don't know what to do, I start making some of my best-selling items, like the clay sockets and fire alarms, my non-limited editions. And I also have a long list of things I still want to make, so I can always return to that.”&nbsp;Failure is always an option with any creative process, maybe even more so when working with delicate materials. How do you deal with frustrations like that?KB: I've spent so many hours working with clay that fewer things break now. I've learned how the clay behaves, but sometimes things still go wrong, usually because I'm a bit careless with the material. The most important thing is drying the clay properly. Too much wind or leaving the door open too long can cause cracks. It's crucial to wedge the clay properly, removing air and ensuring the molecules are mixed well.&nbsp;But even with practice, things can still go wrong or break. But I'm not really too bothered by that. And when something breaks in a museum or gallery, I feel bad for the person who broke it, but the piece itself is insured, so I don't feel angry or frustrated about it."

You're very productive and have show after show lined up. Do you ever feel pressure to constantly produce new work?KB: "Not really. I enjoy what I do and love experimenting. I aim to make each exhibition as good as or even better than the last. The key is to keep enjoying the process and not worry too much about external expectations.I'm not insecure about my work, but sometimes my friends' comments can make me doubt myself. They'll say things like, ‘You should try something different,’ or 'Aren't you tired of doing the same thing?' And the answer is no! I'm having a blast exploring new things. I've been doing more installations lately, creating scenes with various objects instead of individual pieces. It's like a tableau, and I'm really enjoying it.I've also been working with glass, and I'm making wooden tables for a museum in Arnhem, which is a new experience for me. So, I'm not doing the same thing at all. And even if I continue working with the same medium, repeating myself, it's unfair to dismiss my work like that. It's like telling a great cartoonist to make something other than a comic, or telling Dick Bruna that he should stop drawing lines and bunnies. It's weird and doesn't make any sense to me."&nbsp;<blockquote><h1>“It's not a hobby. It's my job. One that allows me to support my family, and I'm proud of that.”</h1></blockquote>

<blockquote><h1>“I didn't have a natural talent for sculpting or drawing precise sketches. However, I improved significantly through persistent practice and learning from my mistakes.”</h1></blockquote>&nbsp;You have two young kids, how has becoming a father affected your work?KB: "Since becoming a father, my work has definitely changed. My priorities have shifted. Before, I spent much more time in the studio, experimenting with different techniques all day. But now that time is more limited.I also decided to stop drinking because I wanted to use my time more efficiently. In the past, I could spend my free days relaxing and maybe drinking, but now I prefer to spend that time with my family and doing productive work. I now work four days a week, from 10 to 5, and during that time, I need to be focused and get my work done. This has taught me to work much more efficiently and be goal-oriented with my time.As for creativity, I don't believe in the myth that you can only be creative under certain conditions. Inspiration often comes at the most unexpected moments. It's about being open to inspiration and being able to translate it into your own medium, in my case, clay. So, although I spend less time in the studio, my time there has become much more valuable and productive. And at home, I am truly present, which is essential."

What is your view on creativity?KB: "Creativity has a lot to do with keeping a childlike sense of wonder and embracing naive playfulness. It's about letting things happen naturally. But it's also serious work.Creativity is very broad—you can be a creative architect or even a creative banker. It's about being true to yourself in your work, and that's something I take very seriously. Some artists focus on profound concepts, while others, like me, thrive on spontaneity and play. But it's still work. I enjoy what I do but can't stand it when people say, 'Oh, you just get to play all day in the studio. That must be fun for you, right?' It's not a hobby. It's my job. One that allows me to support my family, and I'm proud of that. Although sometimes, I yearn for the freedom to create without pressure. Ideally, I would just sculpt and not worry about where it's going."&nbsp;Do you believe you can learn to be creative, or is it something innate?KB: "You can definitely learn to become more creative. I enjoy comparing it to Ronaldo and Messi. I don't like either of them, but Ronaldo might be less naturally gifted than Messi. Messi has a lot of raw talent and works hard, too, but not as hard as Ronaldo. Ronaldo has always been wholly dedicated, constantly practicing and improving. He has talent, but his success comes more from his relentless effort.I see myself more like Ronaldo than Messi. I might have less natural talent than others, but I excel in other areas, like creative thinking. For instance, I didn't have a natural talent for sculpting or drawing precise sketches. However, I improved significantly through persistent practice and learning from my mistakes. I believe you can develop talent or creativity through persistence. And as for ceramics. Anyone can sculpt, but for some, it just takes longer than for others."

<blockquote><h1>“I don't believe in the myth that you can only be creative under certain conditions. Inspiration often comes at the most unexpected moments. It's about being open to inspiration and being able to translate it into your own medium, in my case, clay.”</h1></blockquote>

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Dutch artist Koos Buster has captured a growing audience with his unique clay sculptures of everyday objects. Since graduating from the Gerrit Rietveld Academy six years ago, the self-proclaimed Minister of Ceramic Affairs has showcased his work in numerous art galleries and museum exhibitions. Working from his studio in Amsterdam Noord, the neighborhood where he was born and raised, Buster has become a leading figure in the modern ceramics scene.