A Blank Page
waiting to be filled —
each imprint a story of presence
I have always been drawn to processes that take time. To making something slowly, with my hands. To experimenting, creating, developing, not towards perfection, but towards meaning.
Perfectionism still catches me now and then, slowing me down or making me doubt. And yet, I’ve always been driven by something deeper: the desire to create objects and experiences that carry meaning, preserve memories, and touch the people they are made for.
I studied Fashion & Design at the Art Academy in Utrecht, where my fascination for materials began. What interested me most was not the finished garment, but the fabric itself: combining fibers, reworking materials, using them in unexpected ways, and leaving room for chance. Looking back, those same principles quietly returned years later, through paper.
A BLANK PAGE
waiting to be filled —
each imprint a story of presence
My first encounter with papermaking started almost by accident. I was asked to design menu cards, and wanted to create everything myself, including the paper. I gathered old scraps, blended them, pulled the pulp through water, and formed my first sheets by hand.
The first sheets didn’t turn out as I had hoped, yet I fell in love immediately with the rhythm, the patience, the quiet repetition. With the way paper asks you to slow down and pay attention. What started as an experiment became a language.
Today, my work lives at the intersection of handmade paper, photography and handwriting. I create slow, tangible keepsakes; letters, images and objects that carry traces of time, touch and care. Each sheet of paper is made by hand. Each fiber holds a memory of water, movement and waiting.
We live in a world that moves fast and forgets quickly.I believe there is quiet power in returning to the basics: writing a letter, holding paper, taking time to look - really look.
We live in a world that moves fast and forgets quickly.
I believe there is quiet power in returning to the basics: writing a letter, holding paper, taking time to look - really look.
What could be more valuable than a handwritten letter, written slowly,
on a sheet of paper that carries the marks of a human hand?
Nearly ten years ago, just three months after we got married, my husband and I packed up all our belongings into our tiny Polo and set off from the Netherlands to Switzerland. About six months earlier, we had spent a weekend exploring towns to see where we might like to settle. We fell in love with Thun the moment we arrived, and after a few stops in nearby villages, the Thunersee has become our backyard.
Watching the seasons change here is a constant gift; each one brings its own beauty.
I am now a mother of two beautiful sons, and we love going on adventures together as a family of four. Swimming in the Thunersee, sleeping in our car among cows with ringing bells, and wandering into the mountains to walk, sled, grill, and enjoy all the small and big adventures life offers. These are moments we treasure.
Being a mother has been the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me. It has deepened my wonder and my attention to presence, reminding me that it is often the smallest moments that matter the most.
