Portraits

Encounters at the Jan van Eyck Academie (Maastricht, The Netherlands)

Rafael Edem Kouto, Gwladys Gambie, and Rouzbey Shadpey in their studios at the Jan van Eyck Academie (October 2025, Maastricht, The Netherlands).

In the heart of Maastricht, the Jan van Eyck Academie stands as a quiet yet potent sanctuary for contemporary thought and creation. It is not an art school, nor a gallery, but something in between: a place where artists, designers, and thinkers from all over the world come together to reimagine what art can be when given time, trust, and tools.

Walking through the studios during the Open Studios days feels like entering parallel worlds. Each resident unfolds a vision that stretches beyond their discipline—woven through questions of history, identity, and repair. Among them this year: Rafael Edem Kouto, Gwladys Gambie, and Rouzbeh Shadpey — three distinct voices united by a shared urgency to heal and reimagine.

Rafael Edem Kouto

Rafael Kouto, a Swiss creative director and fashion designer of Togolese and Ghanaian origin, builds his practice on the ethics of reuse and cultural continuity. His work, deeply rooted in West-African material culture, embraces upcycling as both method and message. By transforming discarded textiles and objects, Kouto turns what was once waste into a vehicle of memory and renewal.

His ongoing project Artefacts & Notes from Altared Futures – Temporarily Closed for Healing examines portable artifacts that once travelled across the Atlantic with the slave trade — talismans, fabrics, small objects that survived displacement. Through these, Kouto forges an emotional connection between craft and spirituality, between what is lost and what can still be made sacred again.

Gwladys Gambie

From Martinique, still formally a French colony, Gwladys Gambie brings to Maastricht a dreamlike yet defiant visual universe. Her work explores the representation of Caribbean black bodies and the female condition under the long shadow of colonialism. Through drawing, painting, writing, and performance — and lately through embroidery — she builds an oneiric space where fantasy and critique meet.

In her project Metaphor of the Coconut Tree, Gambie confronts “doudouism,” the exoticized image of the Caribbean perpetuated by literature and tourism. Her hand-drawn portraits of trees and textile installations challenge the coconut’s lazy association with paradise, instead revealing the violence of history embedded in its trunk and leaves. Each stitch, each line, becomes an act of reclaiming narrative — turning ornament into testimony.

Rouzbeh Shadpey

Physician, writer, and artist Rouzbeh Shadpey brings the language of the clinic into dialogue with the language of poetry. His research unpacks the aesthetics of chronic fatigue and the colonial legacy of medical power. Through video, sound, and text, Shadpey transforms the experience of illness into a site of resistance — a way of thinking that honours those whose suffering has been dismissed as “medically contested.”

In his installation Musique Chronique, he stages a scenography that may or may not unfold into performance — an unfinished ritual about the transformation of pain into music. Elsewhere in the academy, a second intervention mirrors the first: not music as healing, but music as illness, a meditation on the dissonance between harmony and violence. His work resonates as both a lament and a call for empathy — an appeal for recognition of human vulnerability in times of devastation.

A house for multiplicity

Together, these artists exemplify what the Jan van Eyck Academie does best: it shelters voices that speak from fracture, from history, from the desire to mend. Here, discarded fabric becomes altar cloth; embroidery becomes resistance; sound becomes protest.

The academy’s studios are not quiet after all — they hum with the slow, persistent work of reimagining the world.

Jan van Eyck Academie

Between Despair and Hope: The Sound of Ghanni Maastricht

Ghanni Maastricht performing at the Jan van Eyck Academie Open Studios Days (October 2025).

At the Jan van Eyck Academie, voices rose in harmony — soft at first, then firm, like a tide refusing to retreat. The choir Ghanni Maastricht, a collective of “Musicians for Palestine”, filled the air with Holm — Arabic for Dream.

The song, originally by the Tunisian artist Emel, speaks of imagining a world rebuilt from pain — a place where love and hope can grow again. Its words were written long before the present war, yet in the shadow of Gaza’s devastation they resonate with unbearable clarity:

If I could close my eyes and the dreams take me by the hand,
I would rise and fly in a new sky and forget my sorrows.

Since the attack by Hamas on October 7, 2023, and Israel’s two year devastating response, Gaza has become a symbol of suffering and endurance. Today, amid a fragile ceasefire, peace remains elusive — the future of the Palestinian people uncertain, suspended between grief and survival.

Ghanni’s performance did not pretend to offer solutions. Instead, it offered a space for compassion, a reminder that art can keep our humanity alive when politics fails. In their voices, sorrow turned into resistance, and music became a fragile bridge between despair and hope.

From the Archive: La Dama at the Lange Voorhout with Zoë Wijnsouw (The Hague, The Netherlands)

Zoë Wijnsouw with ‘La Dama’ from Manolo Valdés (2001) in The Hague, 2010, by Barend Jan de Jong.

In the summer of 2010, the stately trees of the Lange Voorhout in The Hague looked down on a remarkable guest: La Dama (2001), a three-metre-high bronze sculpture by Spanish artist Manolo Valdés. With her majestic circular headdress and calm, archaic face, she evoked one of Spain’s greatest archaeological treasures — the mysterious Dama de Elche, a limestone bust dating back to the 4th century BC.

Valdés did not attempt to copy the ancient figure. Instead, he reimagined her presence: monumental yet human, classical yet modern. The bronze surface captured the shifting Dutch light, turning gold in the morning sun and deep green by evening. Between the linden trees of the Voorhout, she seemed both visitor and guardian — a piece of Mediterranean memory grounded in northern soil.

Two Souls in Awe of Venice

Two Asian girls in Venice.

We came from far across the sea,
 With phones and dreams and time for tea,
 Each bridge, each boat, each golden dome,
 Feels like a story far from home!

 Oh, life is full of wonders, see —
 From gondolas to gelat-i!
 We click, we pose, we laugh, we cheer,
 Europe feels like magic here!

 The pigeons dance, the waiters smile,
 We’ve walked in style for half a mile,
 We tilt our heads, the photo’s right —
 Two wandering souls, what a sight!

 Oh, life is full of wonders, see —
 From bridges old to the wide blue sea!
 With selfie-sticks and joy so clear,
 Europe feels like magic here!

 So if you see us grin and spin,
 Just smile — and let the cameras in!

The Pieterpad: A Journey Through the Heart of the Netherlands

A group of friends hiking on the Pieterpad near Roermond.

Imagine standing in Pieterburen in northern Groningen on a crisp morning in northern Groningen, looking out over flat polders, salt air on your skin, and maybe a seal in the distance. Somehow, this quiet shore is the beginning of something grand: roughly 500 kilometres of trail winding south through woods, heathland, rivers, villages—finally ending at Sint-Pietersberg, just south of Maastricht. This is the Pieterpad, the most famous long-distance walking route in the Netherlands.

A Bit of History

  • The idea was born in the late 1970s, when two Dutch women—Toos Goorhuis-Tjalsma from Tilburg in the south, and Bertje Jens from Groningen in the north—grew frustrated by the lack of long-distance walking paths in their homeland.

  • From about 1978 to 1983 they explored, plotted, tested stages, connecting existing paths, picking landscapes that showed off the diversity of the land.

  • The route was officially opened in 1983. Since then it has slowly evolved: slight adjustments of stages, small detours when infrastructure shifts, and improvements to signage and accommodation.

What You’ll See & How It Feels

Walking the Pieterpad is rarely rugged or remote—it’s not about trail-blazing, but about experiencing the changing Dutch landscape up close. Northern flatness gives you wide skies and polders; heathlands and woodlands in the centre; then gentle hills, river valleys, even vineyards, in Limburg. You pass through small towns and villages where time seems slower, where B&Bs, farmhouses and local cafes offer rest and character.

The trail is marked well (with the white-red markers of Dutch long-distance walking paths), and is divided into 26 stages of approx. 15-25 km each, so it’s accessible even if you can’t walk nonstop.

Estimating how many people walk the Pieterpad each year is tricky, because many people do just part of it, or break it up over many trips, and there's no central registry of walkers. But here are the best figures we have:

  • Some 30,000-50,000 people annually walk one or more of the 26 stages.

  • With the COVID-19 pandemic, interest and usage spiked: guidebook sales doubled, and people booking lodging on popular stages reported full occupancy more often.

So, safe to say: tens of thousands of people walk parts of or the whole Pieterpad every year.

The Pieterpad is more than a trail—it’s a mirror of the Netherlands. It shows you its history, its many landscapes, its rhythms. It brings people out into nature, connects rural to urban, past to present. After 40+ years, it continues to grow in popularity—not just among older walkers, but among younger people, couples, families, foreign hikers—especially once people discovered how beautiful and varied “Dutch wilderness” can be.

For More Information

Without Knowing, on the Camino

Each morning he walks the same stretch of the Meuse — unaware that he follows the ancient route of pilgrims bound for Santiago de Compostela.

Every morning, as the mist still clings to the Meuse, people set out from Roermond for their daily walk. Some follow the dike for exercise, others to clear their minds — yet without knowing, their footsteps trace one of Europe’s oldest pilgrim routes.

The Camino de Santiago passes quietly here, unmarked by fanfare or faith, just a worn rhythm between river and sky. The man in the photo has walked this path for years, greeting the same geese, watching the same current. He may never carry a scallop shell or reach Santiago, but his devotion to the road is its own kind of pilgrimage.

Mores and Christians Festival in Bocairent (Spain)

Early in February, Bocairent bursts at the seams in honour of its patron saint, San Blas (Sant Blai). For six vivid days, fireworks crackle, pasodobles and comparsa music swell, parades roll, processions wind, and gunpowder booms through the streets. Everyone with a tie to Bocairent comes home—students, emigrants, cousins, the old guilds and new cofradías—crowding balconies, drumming in doorways, marching beside standards stitched by their mothers. At the castle, captains parley and boast before the mock assault, the old rivalry reborn in pageantry. By night, lanterns and drums fold the town into a pulsing heart; by day, Sant Blai crosses streets. Half theatre, half memory—history retold on foot to the rhythm of trumpets and gunfire—leaving your ears ringing.

More on Bocairent

Keepers of Time and Stories

The Keepers of Time and Stories.

Wandering through the bustling Flachsmarkt at Burg Linn, I stopped to watch a stand with some antique clocks, their soft ticking almost lost in the hum of the crowd. That’s where I came accross two friends from the north of the Netherlands — strangers at first, but quickly united with me in conversation by a shared curiosity.

They spoke about clocks the way my eldest brother could — with affection, reverence, and a twinkle in the eye. Their hands traced the shapes of ornate cases, their voices lingered over the details of intricate mechanisms, and every so often, they would pause to listen to the chime of a restored timepiece as if it were a voice from the past.

For them, each clock holds a story: of the craftsperson who built it, the families who lived by its hours, and the quiet persistence of time itself. I left our meeting feeling as though I had been shown not just clocks, but the heartbeat of history.

Urban Echoes from Ripoll (Spain)

Urban Echoes from Ripoll (Spain).

Ripoll is a charming town in the heart of Catalonia, known for its rich history and welcoming atmosphere. It is home to the world-famous portal of the Santa Maria de Ripoll monastery, a stunning example of Romanesque art. But Ripoll is not just about history – it plays a vital role in shaping the future too. The Institut Abat Oliba is a key education center for young people from the region. Many students travel to Ripoll by bus or train to study here, as the school offers excellent programs in administrative, sports, and technical fields. This makes Ripoll a hub of learning and opportunity for the next generation.

Motorhome travel

Motorhome travel offers the freedom to explore the World at your own pace, embracing a lifestyle focused on experiences rather than possessions. While it comes with challenges like managing limited space and vehicle upkeep, it allows travelers to form a unique community and enjoy a life of adventure and discovery.

Les Compagnons du Devoir et du Tour de France

Students from Les Compagnons du Devoir et du Tour de France (Metz, 2024)

Les Compagnons du Devoir et du Tour de France is a renowned French organization focused on training craftsmen through a tradition of apprenticeship and mobility. The association allows young men and women to learn trades such as carpentry, masonry, leatherwork, and baking while traveling across France and internationally. It promotes values like solidarity and skill-sharing, vital to French cultural heritage. Since 2010, the guild has been included in the UNESCO register of intangible cultural heritage.

During our visit to Metz, we met students from this institute who were mastering diverse crafts, representing the living legacy of France's artisanal history.

For more, visit their website (Les Compagnons du Devoir).

Introduction to Repair Cafés: Fostering Community and Sustainability through Collaborative Repair

Volunteers at the Repair Café Roermond.

Repair Cafés represent a global grassroots movement that marries sustainability with community engagement. These events, like the one held in Roermond, are free and open to everyone, offering a space where individuals can come together to repair broken items. The philosophy behind Repair Cafés is simple yet profound: rather than discarding and replacing, people are encouraged to repair and reuse, thereby reducing waste and promoting environmental stewardship.

At a Repair Café, participants bring in broken items from home—whether it's clothing, furniture, electrical appliances, bicycles, or toys—and work alongside skilled volunteers to fix them. These volunteers, who possess a wide range of repair knowledge and skills, provide guidance and support, transforming what might otherwise be a frustrating experience into an educational and rewarding one. The act of repair becomes a shared endeavor, with visitors learning new skills, gaining confidence in their ability to fix things, and contributing to the collective knowledge of the community.

Even those who arrive with nothing to repair find value in the experience. They can enjoy a cup of coffee or tea while observing the repair process, offer help to others, or simply gain inspiration from the books on DIY repair and crafting available at the reading table. The atmosphere at a Repair Café is one of collaboration and creativity, where the focus is not only on fixing items but also on building relationships and fostering a sense of community.

Repair Cafés are more than just places to mend broken objects; they are vibrant hubs of learning, sharing, and sustainability. They challenge the throwaway culture and emphasize the importance of resourcefulness, all while bringing people together in a spirit of cooperation and mutual support. Through these gatherings, Repair Cafés empower individuals to take an active role in reducing waste and preserving the environment, one repair at a time.

Some more volunteers at the Repair Café Roermond.

Ptaha: A Choir of Resilience and Heritage

In the wake of the brutal Russian invasion, a group of courageous women who fled Ukraine found solace and strength in music. Brought together in Roermond by Peter Driessen, these women formed the choir Ptaha, a name that symbolizes their journey and resilience. Ptaha, meaning "bird" in Ukrainian, aptly represents their spirit of freedom and the beauty of their homeland's culture.

Specializing in Ukrainian folk music, Ptaha brings to life the rich, melodic traditions of their country. Their performances are deeply evocative, often accompanied by the hauntingly beautiful sounds of the bandura, a traditional Ukrainian instrument. This combination of vocal and instrumental music not only preserves their cultural heritage but also creates a poignant reminder of the homeland they had to leave behind.

For the members of Ptaha, the choir is more than just a musical ensemble; it is a sanctuary. Amidst the chaos and trauma of displacement, singing together provides a crucial sense of community and emotional relief. The shared act of making music helps them maintain their mental well-being, offering moments of joy and connection during these incredibly challenging times.

Through their performances, Ptaha not only honors the traditions of Ukraine but also embodies the resilience and hope of its people. Their songs tell stories of love, loss, and the enduring spirit of a nation, resonating with audiences and providing a powerful testament to the strength and solidarity of the Ukrainian community.