From the grey skies of Belgium to the lush landscapes of Bali, her story is one of remembering. Of slowly peeling away expectations to reconnect with creativity, intuition, beauty and truth. There are some women who don’t simply create beauty, they live inside of it. Through motherhood, art, nature and the quiet rituals of everyday life, she has built a world that feels deeply intentional, soft, and alive. In this conversation, we explore creativity as a way of being, the transformative nature of motherhood, and the journey of returning to oneself.

Can you share a little about yourself—where you grew up and what life looks like for you now? 

I grew up in a small town in Belgium, where life often felt very grey to me — long winters, practical thinking, people keeping themselves small. But even as a child, I was always searching for beauty. We had a little holiday home by the seaside, and I spent hours making paper flowers, bracelets, tiny things I tried to sell on the beach. I think that was my first taste of creating worlds through beauty.  

My grandmother was also a huge influence on me. She was a successful entrepreneur, but also a painter — although she always treated art as something secondary, a hobby rather than a life. Spending time in her home in Spain changed something in me. The warmth, the mountains, the flowers climbing walls, the architecture, the ocean… I remember thinking: this is how I want to feel when I wake up every day.  

Today I live in Bali with my Portuguese partner and our two sons. Our life is deeply creative and deeply imperfect in the best way. We built a home filled with old wood, limewashed walls, plants, paintings, dogs, sunlight, chaos, and children. My days revolve around motherhood, photography, painting, nature, storytelling, and trying to create a life that feels honest to who I really am.  

How would you describe yourself to someone just discovering your world?

I would say I’m someone trying to live as truthfully as possible.  

For a long time I lived very much in my mind — studying law, sustainability, always trying to prove myself through achievement and intellect. And while I’m grateful for that part of my life, I think I slowly realised that underneath it all, I was simply a deeply creative person trying to find her way back to herself.  

My world now is very sensory. It’s about light, texture, movement, emotion, motherhood, nature, femininity, beauty, longing. I’m interested in the feeling of things more than perfection. I don’t just want to make art — I want to live inside of it.  

When did you first feel drawn to creating, and how has your creative practice evolved over time?

I honestly think I came into this world creating. As a child I was constantly making things — drawing, dancing, building little worlds around me. But somewhere along the way, I think I learned that creativity wasn’t necessarily something to build a life around. So I followed a more academic path for many years.  

Coming to Bali reopened something inside of me. The island gave me permission to explore creativity in a much more embodied way. Not as performance, not as productivity, but as a way of living and feeling.  

My work now is deeply connected to the season of life I’m in. Motherhood changed everything creatively for me. It cracked me open emotionally. I don’t make the same work I made a year ago because I’m not the same woman I was a year ago. My art evolves alongside my life. 

How does your environment in Bali shape your daily rhythm and influence your creativity?

Nature completely regulates me.  

Living surrounded by tropical plants, ocean air, storms, sunlight, flowers, old trees — it pulls me out of overthinking and back into my body. Bali feels very alive to me. There’s texture and ceremony everywhere. Beauty isn’t separated from daily life here.  

The island has softened me in many ways. It has made me slower, more observant, more connected to intuition and rhythm rather than constant productivity. Creativity flows much more naturally when I’m living close to nature.  

I also think the visual beauty of Bali opened pathways in me creatively. The colours, the layers, the imperfections, the spirituality woven into ordinary life — all of it influences how I photograph, paint, dress, decorate, and move through the world.

What are the moments with your children that feel the most magical or grounding?

It’s often the smallest moments.  

Watching them completely absorbed in wonder. Seeing them collect nature’s treasures, observing bugs and other animals, move without self-consciousness, fall asleep salty from the ocean. Children are so fully present in life, and being around that constantly brings me back to what actually matters.  

Motherhood has made me experience the world differently. It’s almost like seeing life through another dimension again — colours become brighter, ordinary moments become sacred.  

I think what grounds me most is simply being needed in such a primal way. It strips away a lot of illusion and ego. 

What does “Wild Mother” mean to you, personally?

To me, the “Wild Mother” is a woman who hasn’t abandoned herself in motherhood.  

She is nurturing, but also deeply alive. Sensual. Creative. Emotional. Honest. She allows herself to exist as a whole human being rather than shrinking into one role.  

I think for many women there is a journey of returning to the body and reclaiming parts of themselves they were taught to suppress — softness, intuition, emotion, sensuality, rage, creativity. For me, becoming a mother intensified that journey rather than ending it.  

The wildness isn’t chaos to me. It’s truth.  

What is one feeling you hope people experience when they come across your work?

Permission.  

Permission to feel more deeply. To soften. To romanticise life a little more. To create beauty for no reason other than being alive.  

And maybe also the feeling of recognising something inside themselves they had forgotten.  

What helps you return to yourself when life feels overwhelming?

Nature, always.  

The ocean. Bare feet on the earth. Silence. Painting. Long walks. Photographing light. Music. Moving my body. Being alone for a moment.  

I think returning to yourself is rarely something dramatic. Usually it’s remembering what was always there underneath the noise. 

Perhaps what lingers most after reading her words is the reminder that beauty is not something separate from life — it lives within presence, connection, creativity and the courage to remain open to becoming. Her reflections feel like an invitation back to ourselves: to soften, to feel more deeply, and to romanticise life a little more. A quieter, more truthful way of living that feels both grounding and deeply inspiring.