Artwork From Home: Misja van Laatum

Misja van Laatum is a mixed media artist based in Utrecht. His sculptural pieces are created from surreal, synthetic histories, oftentimes aged like artifacts you might find in a science fiction or fantasy setting. Each of his sketchbooks, “21 Divoti,” “A Journey up the River Leiph,”, and “Kukloj—or the Rings at Europia,” are their own little universes, deeply immersive through the writing and illustrations they contain. You can keep up with van Laatum’s latest work by following him on Instagram and Facebook. You can also check out more of his works on his website, including his experiments with light fixtures and his vessel-like, whimsical assemblages made with found objects. 

When did you first begin making art?

That’s a difficult question, actually. I’ve been making things for as long as I can remember, drawing, building, tinkering. Of course, I never called that “art.” The moment it changed was in a gap year. After I finished the Dutch equivalent of high school, my parents asked me, “what would you like to do now?” and I really just didn’t know. Being great parents they told me to take some time and think it over. After a year of soul-searching and short-term jobs, I knew what I wanted: art academy. That’s also when I started taking my hobby a bit more seriously, but I still hesitated to call it “art”.

What does your workspace look like now?

My studio needs a thorough spring cleaning and rearranging, but I think I’ll wait for the Coronavirus crisis to blow over. Because I’m in between projects, it’s not as messy as when I’m in “creation mode.” Whenever I’m working on a piece, I need tools and materials all around me. It gets quite chaotic but that’s just the way it works.

How did you become drawn to bookmaking and three-dimensional forms of assemblage?

Bookbinding and books in general have always fascinated me. The idea that you can take a pile of paper, glue, twine, and cardboard and turn it into a book is just magical. I implore everyone to try some bookbinding at least once. Yes, it can be fiddly and, if you want to do a really good job, it takes years of practice but the process is very satisfying. In addition to making the physical book comes the writing, illustrating, thinking about structure, story, and language. You get to flex a great number of creative muscles and that’s what makes it so much fun to me. 

Assemblage feels separate from making books. I’ve made far more assemblages than books, and the process feels more intuitive. It requires less planning and thinking ahead—usually.

The love for assemblage came from my father; he was a painter and collagist, but made a good number of assemblages as well. He introduced me to other assemblage artists that still inspire me: Marcel Duchamp, Joseph Cornell, Robert Rauschenberg, Nick Bantock, and more.

How have present circumstances affected your creativity?

As horrific and unusual as the present circumstances are, they haven’t really affected my creativity that much—yet. Ideas usually take quite a bit of time to ferment in my head before my hands turn them into art so I fully expect these troubled times to inspire me. Just not immediately.

What or who do you look to for inspiration?

The cop-out answer would be “life.” That’s both too easy as well as completely true. A great many things inspire me. It can be a word, a book, friends, art, music, anything really. Oftentimes, inspiration comes from objects I collect or visiting new places or history or simply going for a walk.

What are some art-making materials you can’t live without?

There’s some materials that I use all the time. I couldn’t function without cardboard, PVA glue and 5-minute epoxy. I love Winsor & Newton acrylics and colored inks, but I’d be absolutely lost without the materials, objects, and books I source from second-hand stores. I’m fortunate that there’s quite a lot of those shops in my town.

How do you make time for your art practice at home?

I’m privileged to have a studio separate from my home (a 10-minute walk away). It means that I can simply drop everything and leave it when I’m done for the day, and pick it up when I return.

Being a bit of night owl, I usually arrive towards lunchtime in my studio then work into the evening. It’s a small space so I prefer to work alone but, occasionally, I have good friends over to work on their own projects.

Do you listen to or read anything while you work?

I can’t really imagine working without music and, of course, I have playlists for different creative flows. There’s the meditative (Dead Can Dance, Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, David Sylvian, etc.) for writing and planning, the bouncy energetic (Afro Celt Sound System, They Might Be Giants, Thermostatic, etc.) for deadlines and many, many more.

Can you describe your process in creating your sketchbooks?

So the three books I made for the Sketchbook Project came together in a very similar process. The first inspiration for each of them was a system or order: the structure in a painting, twenty-one personal archetypes and seventeen parts of the human body. After that came stories around these “systems.” I really like travel journals, so that’s the form I chose. I wanted a lot of freedom, so I picked imaginary places. Writing in a language that isn’t your native tongue and the limitations that the sketchbooks impose because of their physical size made it very challenging. After writing came illustrating, which was a lot less stressful as I feel much more at home drawing images. At the very end came binding the book and embellishing with labels, stamps, etc.

How do you get through creative blocks?

Creative blocks happen and there’s not a lot you can do about them. The thing that usually works for me is a change of scenery. If a piece isn’t going well, or I feel uninspired for whatever reason, I usually let it rest for a while. Start a new piece, read a book, watch some YouTube, go drinking with friends. Anything that’s completely different will usually allow me to get back to it later. 

What’s the best piece of art-making advice you ever received?

I can’t remember who told me, or where I read this, but going on an “art vacation” works amazingly for me. Simply take yourself on an inspirational trip: go to a museum, a beautiful piece of nature, or play tourist in your hometown. Observe. Open yourself up to whatever there is to experience. It can be as short as a couple of hours. Works every time for me. 

How can people support your work?

By sharing it with others—there’s little point in making art when people can’t experience it. I also really appreciate feedback. Be it praise or criticism: that’s the only way I’m going to get better at all this. Finally, the best way to support my, and all other artists’, work is to keep life fascinating and inspiring for each other.