Written by Nicole Štěch

You were born in Costa Rica and now live in Antwerp. How do these two landscapes, both physical and emotional, coexist in your inner world, and how do they find their way into your work?

Costa Rica was my starting point. The landscape and nature, the slower pace, the constant rain, and the sense of something mystical and spiritual… all of it shaped me deeply. But it’s not about the postcard version of Costa Rica, the sunsets or endless beaches. It’s about growing up there. It teaches you to become sensitive, to listen, and to feel connected to nature as well as to your inner world in a very intuitive way. That awareness comes from within. My work began as a kind of healing process rooted in that environment. Antwerp, on the other hand, plays a very different role. It reminds me of what’s possible. There’s a strong presence of art and design here that pushes me to take my work more seriously. It challenges me, inspires me, and at the same time gives my practice a certain structure and direction. I feel like I’m here because there’s still something unfinished. Something I need to explore or complete. So both places coexist within me: Costa Rica as an internal, emotional, and intuitive world. Antwerp as an external, driven, and evolving space.

What fascinates you most about your creative process today?

I think what fascinates me most is how my drawings seem to come from nowhere. They surprise me. It feels as if my subconscious is revealing something I don’t fully understand yet. Sometimes the process becomes a kind of dialogue between me and the painting. In those moments, I don’t feel alone. It’s as if I’m in conversation with something beyond myself.

When you feel deeply connected to your practice, what does your day look like?

My days are very quiet. I usually isolate myself for a few days, ideally alone. It’s a kind of solitude I need in order to truly tune in and listen to where the work is coming from.

Your paintings feel like translations of something pre-verbal. Do you remember when you first recognized this impulse, giving form to something you couldn’t yet name?

I remember being a very sensitive child, full of emotions I didn’t know how to express. There was so much inside me. I tried hard to make my parents understand what I was feeling, but they weren’t very open to that kind of emotional expression, so I often felt unheard. I think that experience shaped me deeply. In a way, becoming an artist is connected to that. I’m still trying to give form to what I couldn’t name back then. And when people connect with my work – when they feel something through it – I finally feel understood.

You often work in the space between shadow and light. In your personal life, do you feel more drawn to one or the other?

It’s hard to say. Which is why I would answer: both.

You are also drawn to darker tones. Do they allow you to express something that lighter tones cannot?

I’m drawn to dark tones because they carry an emotional depth that feels very honest to me. I’ve always felt closer to the night, the blue hour, or the quiet mystery of fog. There’s something introspective in those moments, and that atmosphere naturally finds its way into my work. Even when the mood leans toward melancholy, that’s exactly what I’m interested in exploring. Darkness creates space. It allows you to slow down, to feel, and to turn inward. At the same time, dark tones make light more powerful. Light becomes something that emerges, something you notice and almost hold onto. It’s not just visual, it’s emotional. For me, it reflects an inner landscape: in darkness, we become more aware of ourselves, of silence, and of subtle feelings that might otherwise go unnoticed.

You created two artworks that are now part of the archive store. Could you describe them?

The larger painting is about shifting perspective. It developed intuitively – it began with splashes of gesso and was then painted almost instinctively. When an oval form appeared and seemed to look back at me, I knew it was complete. It stayed with me through my studio and exhibitions before the archive store acquired it. I like to think that paintings choose their owners too.

Does your personal style reflect the same inner world?

Yes, definitely. It’s quiet, soft, and romantic. Full of silence, but not provocative. It’s subtle, yet not to be underestimated.

What is the most precious piece in your wardrobe?

My wedding dress. It’s a minimal silk piece from the Belgian brand La Collection.

What does your wardrobe say about you that your paintings perhaps don’t?

I tend to wear soft, darker tones. At home I choose lighter colors, but outside I dress in darker ones… maybe as a way to protect myself and appear stronger than I feel.

Do you return to certain pieces of clothing like a ritual, similar to how you return to motifs in your work?

Yes – black trousers that I come back to again and again. They feel masculine and strong, almost like a grounding constant.

Have you ever come across a vintage piece, clothing or object, that felt as if it carried a memory of its own?

Yes – ceramic from the Mexican region of Oaxaca.