Please introduce yourself. What initially sparked your interest in art? How have you developed your passion into a career?

My name is Esther Boesche. I am a conceptual artist from Germany, currently based in New York City. The knowing that I want to live my life as an artist started early in childhood. This is true for many artists actually. I was supported by my inventive, creative father, who frequently took me to interesting museums and supplied me with boxes full of used artist books, that he would find for me at flee markets and used book stores.

Aside from the economic situation and cultural expectations on girls at the time, I was lucky to grow up in a supportive, creative environment surrounded by a lot of nature, where I had the freedom, space and material to explore and express myself. Without the distractions of social media, my childhood was filled with outdoor adventures, art, and exploration.

My elementary school offered art, handicraft, music, and woodworking classes, while my father’s workshop provided access to building materials that fostered my curiosity. My first ‘art works’ included creating things and exploring together with my older brother in nature, drawing, painting with watercolours and experimenting with all kinds of materials. This creative playfulness and deep desire to explore my surroundings and know and understand everything about everything shaped my early artistic practice into a path to create my own creative life, outside of cultural expectations or what a ‘normal, good life’ was at the time.

What sets artists apart from ‘regular folks’ is not just that they are creating impactful or interesting things and artworks, but that they are willing to take the risk to look deeper and step out of the blue print, to research in themselves and around them, to listen, to look and to develop something completely new yet meaningful, that they then release to the world for inspiration and discussion.

How has nature inspired you and your artwork?

Nature has always been a very profound influence in my life, as a subject in my art and as essential part of my being. I grew up during a very special time, in a very unique landscape of flatlands, forests, the ocean, rivers, and fields —a world that is very different from the hustle and hectic in New York City. I wonder sometimes how New Yorkers would look at a place like my childhood environment, I think it’s so different, that its existence, or if I showed pictures would really puzzle and surprise some people over here.

The 1980s, was a very special time in German history. The country was still split between East and West Germany by the Berlin Wall, making life in West Germany distinctly different from the East. Growing up in West Germany meant exposure to Western culture, democratic values, and consumer goods, while the contrast with the East provided an awareness of political division and the Cold War. I grew up before the widespread use of the internet, social media, smartphones, and other digital addictions, so there was more space for other activities. It is so utopic to me when I think about children that are born into the world now and think that it is completely natural and that’s how the world just is, that everyone is on their devices all the time, including their parents.

This short era of the 1980’s in Germany fostered a direct connection with the natural world, creative problem-solving, and a sense of freedom and adventure. The country was perceived as very safe at the time, and there was a strong cultural emphasis on spending time outside, through activities like hiking, camping, swimming, and interacting with nature. Parents allowed their kids to roam the neighbourhood, emphasised play outside regardless of the weather, and independent exploration without the same level of supervision seen today. This connection to nature was considered vital for building resilience and mental clarity. It fostered independence, responsibility, and self-reliance. It was a time of relative freedom for children, especially in the countryside and in my family, because of my creative father who was determined to protect his children’s imagination and provide us purposely with a combination of adventure and good education.

I feel deeply connected and rejuvenated by water, wind sun, and wide landscapes. Living near the ocean as a child was very impactful for my soul, I spend lots of time in and on the water as a swimmer, going canoeing with my dad and walking and playing in the ocean, literally. The ocean in my childhood town is subject to the tide. It is a magical phenomenon, where people can literally walk on the ocean floor, when the water from the shore is pulled back deeper into the ocean, by the moon, for a couple of hours each day.

I still find nature to be my greatest source of inspiration, creativity, and clarity. I feel most at peace when I’m outdoors, which makes it hard for me to spend too much time indoors, even when working on my art sometimes. I maintain a rather big attic studio in Northern Germany in my families house, where I retreat to recharge and work on projects that require space, silence, and fresh air. It also allows me to produce works that are harder to make in NYC. For example, here it is difficult to find affordable space where you are allowed to work with chemicals such as resin, or materials that create lots of noise, smell or dust. This balance between the energy of New York and the tranquility of nature keeps me grounded. While I love the vibrancy of city life, if I had to choose only one place, I’d always pick a place surrounded by nature and a simpler live.

How do you explore ideas of identity in your work? Have you learnt anything about yourself whilst creating your artwork?

It took me a while to realise that much of my work revolves around identity, and that it may be one of the, if not the main theme. You often need to create art over several years to truly understand what it’s about. I started making art as a playful exploration, but it quickly became a tool for connecting with myself, a way to dive deep within and find solace. Much of my early art was driven by social and cultural protest, a search for connection with my authentic self, and navigating an environment that often felt alien to me. I wasn’t a child who easily fit in, and I always had more questions than most people, especially about how we live as a society, why things are the way they are, and if they could be better - more aligned with human well-being and community.

Simple answers never satisfied me, and I saw most structures and obligations as restrictive to my freedom and creativity. I couldn’t relate to the dreams or ambitions of my peers; "ordinary life" felt too ordinary for me. This led me on a quest for answers and to carve my own path, with my art as both the tool and the goal.

Through art, I explored human nature, how we form social contracts, and how we express ourselves. What I’ve learned is that the best place to find a sense of home and identity is within yourself, in the places we can touch through any kind of meditation or ‘re-trained’ awareness. In a world driven by efficiency, templates for everything, and measurable results, it takes courage to listen to your heart and intuition over culturally and socially logic and pre-defined paths. An open heart is happier and always knows best, leading to better outcomes.

Humanity is amazing, and the creativity found in diverse self-expression, especially in a place like New York is beautiful and inspiring. The multifaceted expressions of people here are part of what keeps me in NYC, despite its challenges like crowds, noise, and high costs. However, I also believe that people, especially in the U.S., are too obsessed with their own identity and being seen. There’s a superficiality and a lack of deep social connections compared to places like Europe or parts of Asia, where I find people more calm, caring about others and less egotistical. In the U.S., there seems to be fear of deep connections, and identity is sometimes used as an excuse for rude or aggressive behaviour.

It’s a hard working, attention deprived culture, and the constant public attention-seeking can be misguided and exhausting. I wish people would focus more on finding stability in their own hearts, community and creativity rather than designing themselves into a certain type or character, that then needs to seek validation and reassurance to be perceived as real. It is very forceful and rather futile when you think about it, as it rarely creates more connection and acknowledgement and only for a created self not the natural authentic self, that relies on expressions ones own natural beingness. Certainly, people are born with certain predilections and interests and some people are naturally more expressive than others. But naturally creative expression is energetically very different from the flywheel of seeking validation for a completely designed identity.

Many people define themselves by their career, or choices of gender, sexual preference or original wardrobe. In combination with the high professional demands in NYC, the lack of time and the impact of economic difficulties and competition for space and opportunities, I find that more and more people are loosing connection to their natural self and to community as well as awareness and consideration for other people. People seem increasingly isolated and afraid to even look at other people and strangers in the street. But that is what should be perceived as natural and healthy in my perception. We are one race of human, and everything we have built as a human race, is because of community, creativity and collaboration.

With much of my work, I am advocating to act from a place of true authenticity — what I call “beingness" and listening to your natural self that fosters creativity and diversity from a place of joy and inspiration, not as compensation for insecurity or fear of lack.

You use a variety of mediums in your practice, how does your choice of medium reflect the narrative?

Thank you for noticing the effort! I’ll do my best to explain. My creative process is very intuitive in the early stages, often based on observation, experience, and insight that comes to me when I feel most curious and connected. I was fortunate to attend a strong art and design program for my undergrad studies in Germany, where I was trained to pay close attention to details and meanings. This helped me develop a mindset for choosing the best medium to present each narrative in the truest and most impactful way. Growing up so freely and with access to a variety of materials encouraged me to experiment and try out new things without fear. This benefits my artistic expression. Also moving from a small village to New York has also shaped my resilience, which is crucial in such a challenging and fast-paced environment.

My project *Loyal Employee* (2019) connected material and narrative in a way that I am still proud of. It was my first time creating large, freestanding sculptures from resin, a challenging but necessary choice because I wanted the sculptures look like real, human bodies. The project highlighted the harsh and dehumanizing conditions low-income workers face, inspired by the degrading language used in job ads. I researched and transferred popular, common terms from these dehumanising ads onto cheap T-shirts often worn by low income workers. Then I sculpted them using resin and wire to represent human bodies, emphasising how these workers are treated like replaceable robots. Adding a light switch to "turn on and off" the figures drove home the metaphor.

The process to be honest was difficult - early attempts failed, as I didn’t sufficiently consider the impact of humidity and heat that could affect the sculptures over time in environments that are not fully climate controlled and I injured myself on the wire many times. I had to restart many times, but after about three months of trail, error, studio revise, try again, the sculptures finally worked, and it was worth it.

Currently, my work is focused on promoting joy and kindness, pushing back against the aggressive hustle culture, resentment, anger and me first thinking that sadly is very palpable in the city lately. My latest painting called We are all New York and my recently published photography book encourage people to slow down and appreciate life and being present, kind and focused towards your environment. The new book, “Tacos for Breakfast”, uses playful overlays of photographic images and graphics to invite viewers to explore and dive in and reconnect with themselves, reminding them that life isn’t just about winning over others and rushing from one task to the next. It is a funny thing for me to make work in this way, but especially the book format invites people to dive in and rest. So it’s not a book about my art or my photographs, but he book itself is the transformative art work, because it stands against her current Zeitgeist of rushing and anxiety, because of how we tend to interact with books and photographic images.

Describe your creative process from start to finish of one of your paintings. How do you establish the composition? Is the end result more, or less important to you than your process?

I usually start my paintings with a sketch, something I learned through my photography practice. When working on a series of images, I need to sketch them out to visualize what I’m aiming for in a photoshoot. Occasionally, I’ll do some research, exploring styles and ideas that inspire me and I read history, statistics and philosophy that relate to my subject. My background in Communication Design, and my deep admiration for the designer Paul Rand and the children’s book illustrator Alan Gree, and Yayoi Kusama, have also influenced my approach, though not always visibly in my work.

Once I begin, I feel like an instrument for the creativity that flows from a higher source. The ideas come from a place beyond me. You can even test this for yourself: try to locate the origin of a thought in your body — it’s not really something you can pinpoint.

As a young artist, I went through a phase of experimenting a lot with composition. I tested different arrangements and studied various elements, like photographing paper boats in a river or drawing hundreds of soda cans from different angles and in different sizes and combinations. This process taught me the philosophy of choice and exclusion, helping me understand how composition shapes the narrative of a work — and of a life frankly.

Making art involves a lot of trial and error, resilience, and knowing when to step back. Some paintings take three days; others can take eight months or even years to complete. Over time, you develop an instinct for when a piece is finished or when you need a break. Neuroscience backs this up—rest and sleep are crucial for creativity and brain growth. Most people find that after sleeping on a problem, they wake up with new insights, which I think you can call magic, the fact that you have to go to sleep and wake up with new ‘downloads’ and ideas and solutions!

Which part of your process do you enjoy the most, and why?

It really depends on the artwork and the medium I’m working with. The process varies significantly from one form to another. For example, drawing, which remains my favorite medium, offers a deep sense of satisfaction and connection with peace and the higher self. There's something incredibly healing and reconnecting about the act of drawing, to the point where the final outcome becomes almost secondary. It's a meditative process that allows me to fully immerse myself in the present moment, which I love.

On the other hand, photography is different. I find the most joy in the planning, the capturing of the shot, and seeing the perfected photograph at the end. There's an excitement in visualizing a concept and then making it come to life through the lens. However, the editing phase, particularly when working on several images, can sometimes feel monotonous. It’s more technical than creative at that point.

Working on my new book, for example, has brought me a lot of joy. I find myself looking at it again and again, feeling a sense of pride that it’s finally complete, and that my name is on something physical and real. A book is a permanent artifact, it has an ISBN, and will be registered in history as something I created. That brings a special kind of fulfillment, as it is evidence that I existed long time after I am gone. It’s about legacy and understanding that I really was here and how impactful, adventurous, miraculous and magical it is to be alive and to create things, that are then appreciated and used by other people.

There are parts of the art-making process that feel more like hard work. Tasks like retouching or final adjustments can feel like just finishing up details. It’s not always purely enjoyable or creative, but necessary to complete the work. Ultimately, though, the most rewarding part is seeing the entire process through, taking the risk to present your work, and opening it up for discussion. That moment of sharing, of putting your creation out into the world, carries immense joy and a sense of accomplishment. It’s about connecting with others and seeing how they respond and are inspired by what you’ve made, which completes the circle of the creative process. The moment, you release a work of art into the world it is no longer alone yours in some sense.

How would you describe your style of work? What do you believe makes your work unique?

Describing a unique style can be quite challenging. I believe a really unique personal style emerges not so much from deliberate intention but rather as a natural evolution that grows through experience and openness over time. While it does happen that artists and designers especially and intentionally shape their style, which is totally fine, to choose to express in a certain way, my work develops organically.

Each of my projects seems to be quite different, yet they share overarching themes such as identity, social structures, human rights, and female experience. When viewed side by side, it's clear that they come from the same artist. However, this coherence wasn't something I consciously practiced; it’s more about what emerges when you’re art enters a certain stage of experience and you have cultivated clarity and trust within yourself so that you can hear and act on your inner voice. What makes my work unique is this interplay between the diverse mediums I use and the depth of the subjects I explore. My background allows me to approach themes from multiple angles, whether through drawing, photography, or installation. This multifaceted approach invites viewers to engage with the work on various levels, encouraging them to reflect on their own experiences and perspectives.

Ultimately, my style is a reflection of my journey as an artist and as a person, shaped by the lessons I’ve learned and the connections I’ve made. It's an evolving narrative that delves into to the complexities of human existence and the shared experiences that bind us together. This authenticity paired with a hight quality on choice of narrative and material combination is what I believe sets my work apart in a meaningful way.

Out of all your artwork, which piece has had the greatest impact on you?

Out of all my artwork, the one that has the greatest impact on me is always the latest piece. Each artwork I create is fundamentally transformative, shaping both my understanding and the world around me. The subjects I approach lead to greater clarity, acceptance, and insight than I had before. Every piece is designed to create awareness for a subject or cultural and social behavior in my environment and to help me process something I want to understand better.

From a psychological perspective, even small changes in thought or habit can drastically alter one’s life—almost like entering a new dimension. For instance, if an airplane takes off from New York and wants to go let's say DC or Boston, and is just one degree off course, it will land in an entirely different city. This metaphor illustrates how impactful even tiny shifts are. So, with each creation, I experience growth and expansion in my mindset. This transformation isn’t limited to me; it also affects viewers and readers. Engaging with a compelling piece of art, literature, or even a good conversation can shift one's perspective and whole life. Each artwork, each insight, allows for a profound change—more than just a minor adjustment, but a meaningful change of direction and understanding.

Think about it some artworks, that artists have made are so strong that they were world changing for a whole generation or society. A prominent example in this context is "The Unknown Boy" taken by photographer Horace Bristol during the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s. The image captures a young boy with one leg, using crutches. It highlighted and made people more aware of the devastating impact of war on innocent children. This powerful photograph, and photography in general contributed to changing perceptions about war and influenced public opinion regarding the humanitarian consequences of conflict. Nowadays photography is often abused to manipulate and direct wars and public opinions thereof. Like in the famous quote: The first victim of war is the truth. But that’s another subject. However, at the time it was an earth shattering shaping experience for people to see the work. There are many other examples about the impact of art on society and culture, but as a trained photographer this one comes to mind immediately.

Is there anything you wish that you had learnt sooner in your artistic journey?

Not really. I believe everyone develops at their own pace, and you are always exactly where you’re supposed to be. While I’ve made a few ‘mistakes’ along the way that might have sped up my career, I see those experiences as valuable. They allowed me the time to refine my art and to discover who I truly want to be, free from the pressure of market demands while I was still developing my craft and artistic intentions. And over the past months and years, I have learned to balance the business aspects of being a professional artist more and more.

In hindsight, I appreciate the journey. I’ve come to understand that consistency is key, as well as fostering a supportive community. Openness to critique but always taking it with a grain of salt is essential, along with maintaining a strong vision and self-belief, without arrogance. This combination has shaped my growth and continues to guide me as I evolve as an artist.

Who is your greatest artist inspiration? If you could ask them one question, what would it be?

Just one?! Well ok, I have a deep admiration for Pina Bausch, the groundbreaking dance choreographer. Although she wasn’t a visual artist, her brilliance and rule-breaking spirit resonate with me. If I could ask her one question, it would be about the importance of intuition and how to connect with people to effectively communicate ideas.

Pina had an extraordinary ability to nurture the creativity of her dancers, encouraging them to bring their own insights while responding to her vision. She skillfully directed and guided them, all while remaining attuned to the audience’s reactions. This balance is akin to how artists interact with their materials and the environment. I’m curious about her thoughts on navigating these dynamics and how she maintained that openness while achieving such unique success. Her perspective would undoubtedly offer invaluable insights into the artistic process and the power of connection in art.

Why do you think art is important in society?

As a teaching artist, I believe the role of art in society is profoundly significant. Art has the power to awaken, heal, motivate, and inspire. The contributions of artists and their messages are still undervalued, especially those of not famous artists. Numerous industries thrive on the creative work of artists, yet many artists receive little recognition or fair compensation for their contributions. I sometimes think that artists who demonstrate an active, societal relevant practice should be granted a universal basic income, reflecting the substantial impact they have on society. But that’s probably moonboy thinking and there is something to say about working yourself upwards as well of course, however a lot of thought and invention and progress gets lost in societies were art and artist are not sufficient supported.

Through my work with children, I’ve witnessed firsthand how art can be character-building, transformative, and healing when taught effectively. Unfortunately, art education is increasingly marginalized in schools, and art teachers often face skepticism from colleagues who don’t understand the profound effects art can have on social and intellectual development. When approached intentionally, art education fosters confidence, self-reliance, collaboration, public speaking skills, and logical thinking. In my teaching, I emphasize skill-building and empowerment through art, and I’m currently developing transformative mindful art programs aimed at addressing similar skills for adults in corporate and professional environments.

Art offers invaluable opportunities for recreation and reconnection, providing a joyful, exploratory way to navigate our complex world. On one hand, humanity has achieved remarkable feats; on the other, we face a reality that can be inhumane, overly competitive, distrustful, abusive and toxic. Art serves as a vital tool for connecting individuals to one another and to themselves. And to become more aware of how we live and move as humans and question more.

I already touched on this a little bit, but the direct impact of art and artists on societal progress cannot be overstated. Artists like e.g. Cindy Sherman, Artemisia Gentileschi, Mary Cassatt, Frida Kahlo, Louise Bourgeois, and Shirin Neshat have created transformative bodies of work that resonate deeply, especially with women. Their art has fundamentally shaped how women see themselves and how society perceives and treats them.

Occasionally, a piece of art or an artist emerges that is so earth-shattering that it cannot be unseen; it has the power to transform society fundamentally. Cindy Sherman’s work is a prime example, as is the film "The Matrix." This highly philosophical and transformative piece has had a profound impact on how people think about reality, free will, and identity. The conversation it has sparked continues to resonate, illustrating how transformative art can alter perceptions and even influence the very fabric of filmmaking itself. The world before and after such a transformative artwork is never the same.

Esther Boesche

ARTIST INTERVIEW: Esther Boesche