Buraq
October 2024
approx. 150 x 70 x 50 cm
materials: paper mache, soda can, polymer clay, video projection
Photos by Django van Ardenne.

My first memory of a doll’s house was a plastic one with pink bricks. It was even too tiny for the barbie behind the doll shop’s window. Everything there in the doll’s house was made out of pink plastic. The plastic was so boring and cold that they tried to add as much as pink they could to make it happier. I bet the barbie herself there was not happy or at least her eyes were falling off for the amount of pink she was encountering every day in her plastic house.

In this dollhouse, we see curious creatures hiding behind animal faces. They play in a space where identity is fluid, where appearances shift like dreams, reminding us of ancient myths, the tales we craft about ourselves and who we might become. I chose mythical creatures because myths have always shaped how we see power—how it flows, transforms, and affects our lives. Myths are the original stories of hierarchy and rebellion, of kings and gods, of beasts that defy their creators. They mold our understanding of roles within society, showing us how authority is constructed and maintained, and how it can be questioned. They remind us that power itself is often an illusion, a story we’ve been taught to believe.

The dollhouse sits precariously on top of a giant head, as if these strange beings are the thoughts of a mind in sleep. Like forgotten dreams, these creatures shape the inner workings of its mind, influencing decisions, emotions, and perceptions without ever rising to the consciousness. The head remains unaware of how deeply they affect it, how these symbolic figures weave through its inner world, just as myths and stories subtly shape the way we see ourselves and others.

In the upper room, these creatures carry out the most mundane of tasks. Ordinary actions, yet in this setting, they become surreal, infused with a quiet magic. The everyday becomes becomes something beyond ordinary when seen through the lens of a dream. They remind us that life’s most routine moments are often where the deepest thoughts brew, where transformation begins, even if it seems unnoticed at first glance. The creatures' stillness belies the rich inner world unfolding within, a reflection of how we can be consumed by our own thoughts and yet appear outwardly calm.

In these uncertain times, building a future or even a home can feel like an impossible dream. So I’ve made mine from the remnants of things people have touched and discarded. The materials I use aren’t just about recycling for sustainability; they’re about accessibility. Everyone has seen an empty soda can, held a letter from the belastingdienst, municipality, or in some circumstances IND that they no longer need. These scraps become my building blocks. There’s a kind of alchemy in turning something as ordinary as tin into something new, unrecognizable—a transformation from the known into the unknown, a reflection of how we rebuild and reimagine our lives from what’s left behind. In this way, the dollhouse is more than just a structure— it’s about how to turn something that we know to something that we don’t recognize anymore.

Design by Julia

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