Julia Holtmann

Julia Holtmann is a German visual artist, currently based in Spain, whose practice is rooted in drawing. She studied Visual Arts at the University of South Africa in Cape Town, South Africa, before continuing her studies in Illustration at the Design Department of the University of Applied Sciences Hamburg, Germany, where she focused on drawing and graduated in 2013 with a Bachelor of Arts. In 2022, she received a Master of Fine Arts in Interdisciplinary Arts from the University of Málaga, Spain.

She was a recipient of the ADD ART Stipend in 2014 and a project grant from the Stiftung Kulturwerk in 2020. Publications include various exhibition catalogs, a special edition of her book Fremde with MamiVerlag in 2012, and, most recently, in 2023, a contribution for Paradigma #25—the academic cultural magazine of the University of Málaga. She has had solo shows in Germany, Spain, and the US, and has also participated in several group exhibitions in Italy, Switzerland, and Japan.

Her work has shifted over time from a former figurative and realistic interest to organic abstractions, often characterized by delicacy, intricacy, and a fluctuating impression. Influenced by her father's research in biology during her early childhood, and surrounded by wild meadows that offered space for insects and weeds, her visual language is strongly informed by the organic, botanical world. Investigating the slow yet direct quality of her medium, she presumes that knowledge is accessible through immersion, employing various self-imposed techniques and strategies rooted in automatism. What connects her different approaches and projects is a recurring self-inquiry about healing and what it means to be and to relate: how to go beyond mind, concept, and language?


Artist Statement

Drawing is at the core of my art practice. As a medium that can be both utterly immediate and protracted, rudimentary and virtuosic, I use it to focus on the experience itself and to explore the notions and correlations of presence, time, and being.

When does a boundary shift from protection to isolation? How short is the path from open to lost? When is control sovereignty, and when is it obsession? How can we identify the difference between automatic patterns and inspired flow? The image serves as a frame or mirror in which I can deeply engage with these questions on a level that goes beyond intellect.

In search of a deeper understanding and a state of clarity through immersion, I often explore drawing as a kind of ritual, using different processes that include variations of automatic drawing, warm-up exercises, deliberate repetition, and self-copying methods in various formats.

Regular walks, keeping a drawing journal, and collecting and examining found organic matter are the foundation of these processes. I find clues in nature, particularly in discarded and overlooked things. Weeds or withered residues, as traces of transformation, become access points to explore the intersection between the banal and the sublime.


www.juliaholtmann.com

What initially drew you to art?

There is no clear, straight link from my family context or upbringing to why I expressed, at a very young age, that I wanted to become a “painter.” In my immediate family or the rural environment where I grew up, there was nothing that could have provided me with the concept of what it meant to be a visual artist. Art was certainly not seen as something one should or could pursue as a career. Yet, photos from my early childhood show me either holding a pencil, with my nose deep in the paper, or somewhere in the garden scrutinizing a plant or bug. I have always been drawing as a kid. Looking back, it seems like it served a therapeutic purpose, as I used it as a cure for any difficult situation. But, in fact, it was much more than that. I remember how I was always extremely concentrated while drawing, tackling visual problems, and constantly looking for an alternative path or something else to explore—be it a new material, subject matter, or “problem.” Fascinated by and analyzing the imagery of old masters and antique illustrations, I would lose myself in any book I could get my hands on.


What elements of your life have ended up becoming a part of your art?

As is the case for many artists, it is difficult to draw a clear line between where creation starts and ends, as any random piece of conversation, line in a book, glimpse of scenery, or perception of atmosphere can become vital inspiration—or even part of a project.

But the most intertwined element for me is being out in nature. It will always feed my artistic process, whether in a subtle or direct way. Even if I’m “just” going for a run without any artistic intentions, there’s always something—be it a new insight or a plant along the way—that ends up in my pocket and later in my sketchbook.


What about your practice do you find the most fulfilling and/or energizing?

The pure and innocent stage of the beginning. To follow impulses, whatever and wherever they may be. The “not knowing” where it will lead, when I am fully trusting the process and allowing myself to be carried by the stream of creation.

But there is also something extremely satisfying in the moment when clarity arises after having faced all the obstacles of the middle phase. It’s the moment when it is time to clean up and move forward into the knowing—shifting from following to leading and giving deliberate direction.


Tell us about your experience getting to where you are now. What has been the most important thing you’ve learned?

You are always on your path. After finishing high school, I felt the need to escape Germany and moved to Cape Town, South Africa, where I took a part-time day job while studying Fine Art through a distance course at the University of South Africa. It was the only option I could afford at the time. Those four live critiques per year always left me in tears. The purely intellectual approach caused a “why” blockage in me for years. Eventually, back in Germany, I decided to start over with Illustration to unblock myself. Though in that context, it was finally okay to explore something visually without having all the answers upfront, I soon realized that I felt very limited in Illustration and completed my degree with a series of abstract drawings. I found myself back in the world of visual art, and it took me almost 10 years to decide to go back to university and pursue my MFA.

This detoured path always made me feel like an outsider until I realized that it simply is my path. All those experiences have contributed to my approach to art-making.

To know when to disconnect and when to connect is important. It’s too easy to get lost in other people's opinions, advice, critiques, accomplishments, and the constant battles of everyday life.

It’s also important not to be afraid of producing “bad” work and to be at peace with not producing at all. (Both of these, but particularly the latter, are still a big challenge for me to accept at times.)

To me, it is unavoidable on the path to real work—not work that is merely a product of a limited view, method, or unconscious replication of what is currently popular, but work that is an honest investigation, free of constructs or prejudice.


How has ‘community’ impacted your artistic practice?

Enormously! Artist residencies, in particular, have been turning points or fuel for my art-making. Immersed in a diverse environment where approaches from other artists and disciplines mingle with my own patterns, feedback and input are absorbed almost unconsciously, alongside the deliberate exchange. Such environments are incredibly enriching to me and usually fuel my practice for a couple of years.