Episode 1 – Andreas Thijs

Location: Brussels

Discipline: Contemporary Art

Interview by: Kasper Vandekerckhove (Routeqadsix)

On Creativity and Beginnings

Kasper: Andreas, welcome. We’re sitting here in your backyard, in the sun — the perfect place to start. What does creativity mean to you?

Andreas: That’s a tough question. People have often told me I’m one of the most creative people they know, and as a kid I thought that meant being able to draw well. I wasn’t the kind of child who played outside much. I stayed inside drawing, inventing stories, and creating comics. For me, creativity has always been about inventing worlds and telling stories — taking something small and turning it into something larger and meaningful.

Even when I played with Lego, I was creating little worlds and characters. That sense of imagination evolved naturally into what I do now as an artist. It’s all storytelling, just through different materials.

Becoming the Story

Kasper: Your work often feels like a form of storytelling. Where does that come from?

Andreas: Since childhood, I’ve always needed to become the things I watched. After a movie, I’d turn into one of the characters — I couldn’t just sit and watch. After Harry Potter, I’d wave a wooden kitchen spoon like a wand. After Star Wars, I was a knight. Later, in high school, that shifted to musicians. I became obsessed with The Beatles — I’d pretend to be one of them. I bought a guitar mostly to look like I was playing, and a big canvas to act like I was painting something grand. For a long time, I thought that was weird, but now I realize it was just me expressing creativity in my own way — by living through other people’s stories.

Alter Egos and Artistic Identity

Kasper: That idea of living through others now shows up in your art. Tell me about your alter egos.

Andreas: I often work through fictional personas — alter egos that I inhabit completely. For example, I once created a French artist who worked with plaster and plants. I dressed like him, acted like him, thought like him. When I’m creating, I fully step into that role until I feel the character’s story is told. It’s immersive, but once it’s over, I move on. Each alter ego opens a new door: one might paint, another might sculpt or write or make videos.

Kasper: Do these personas change how you create?

Andreas: Yes, absolutely. When I’m in a character, I see the world differently. I once had an Italian alter ego who made abstract art, and a Dutch one who worked in more figurative painting. It’s like each gives me permission to explore a new voice. Without them, I think I’d feel limited.

Between Self and Character

Kasper: Does it affect your sense of self — being so many people?

Andreas: It does. After a while, getting out of character can be hard. I sometimes wonder, “Who am I really?” I’m not the best painter or sculptor, but I think I’m good at connecting things — ideas, emotions, stories. That’s my real strength. Through these alter egos, I’ve learned that I don’t need to master one thing; my art is about transformation and empathy.

On Environment, Flow, and Spontaneity

Kasper: How do you approach making art day to day?

Andreas: I work in waves. There are days when I don’t produce anything, but I’m constantly thinking about my projects. The environment matters — my tiny studio on campus isn’t always inspiring. I can’t force it by saying “now I’ll make something.” My process is spontaneous, not routine-based. Some artists go to their studio every day to paint; that doesn’t work for me. My discipline lies in staying open — to ideas, to moments, to life. I’m always working internally, even if I’m not physically creating.

I get inspiration from conversations, exhibitions, and even assignments I do for Montorollo. I like being given a framework — it keeps me in a creative rhythm without confining me. I think I’m more interested in depth than repetition. I’d rather go wide than perfect one thing forever.

Perception and Communication

Kasper: How do people — teachers or viewers — respond to your work?

Andreas: They find it intriguing but sometimes hard to grasp. My professors say I have a strong vision but that it’s not always clear to others. I’m learning to communicate better. When I organized my own exhibition recently, I showed work from an alter ego under my real name, partly so people could connect more easily. Maybe that comes from a little insecurity — but also pride. I wanted to stand behind it as myself.

On Insecurity and Growth

Kasper: Is that insecurity still part of your process?

Andreas: Probably, yes. Every young artist struggles with that. I don’t need to be the best — I just want to be honest. I’m twenty-one; I’m still learning. The artists I admire have had decades to develop. I’m still finding my voice, and I’ve learned to embrace that instead of rushing it. Art takes time — the point is to stay curious and keep evolving.

Place and Belonging

Kasper: You often mention Brussels and Leuven. How do these places shape you?

Andreas: I moved around a lot. My parents divorced early; I grew up mostly with my dad. My mom passed away two years ago. That loss made me rethink where I want to root myself. I once applied to a film school in Brussels but didn’t get in — they said I lacked experience. Brussels is inspiring but chaotic. Leuven feels calmer, more personal. I’m trying to show that creativity can thrive anywhere, not just in big cities. That’s why I organized an exhibition in Leuven with local artists — to prove that there’s artistic energy here too. Projects like Montorollo fit perfectly with that mission: to make creativity local and accessible.

Words and Visual Art

Kasper: You’re mainly a visual artist. How important are words in your practice?

Andreas: That’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. For a long time, I didn’t see words as part of art. Now I see that language builds bridges — between people, between ideas. My alter egos often experiment with writing; it’s become part of my storytelling. Still, I prefer when the work speaks for itself. I don’t want too many explanations. The visuals come first, but I appreciate how words can deepen the meaning.

Everything Is Story

Andreas: I’ve realized that everything in the world carries a story. A painting in a thrift store once belonged to someone, meant something. A highway barrier was placed by a worker sighing under the sun. Even a tacky plastic frog at a swimming pool was sculpted by someone who thought it mattered. Thinking about that hidden human layer — the invisible authors of the everyday — inspires me. Nothing is meaningless; everything is narrative.

Art, Credibility, and Ethics

Kasper: Should art always provoke or make a statement?

Andreas: I don’t think so. Art doesn’t have to be political or shocking to be valid. For me, the most important thing is credibility. The artist’s intent must feel real. There are no strict boundaries for art itself, but there are limits to what feels authentic. If something is made only to shock, I lose interest. What matters is conviction — that the artist truly believes in what they’re doing.

What Makes a Work Credible

Andreas: Credibility starts with the artist. Many people imitate childlike styles; that only works if it’s sincere. If you don’t take your own approach seriously, no one else will. Once, I tested this idea during an assignment about color. I forgot the brief and ended up presenting a small plastic box with a moldy tea bag inside. I built a concept around it — that mold represents nature’s color palette, that banal objects can reflect humanity. I spoke with conviction, and my professors loved it. It showed me that belief and clarity of idea can make even the simplest thing powerful.

Artistic Ethics and Boundaries

Kasper: Are there ethical boundaries in art?

Andreas: There aren’t fixed limits on art itself, but there are on credibility. You can explore dark or controversial themes, but if it feels careless or exploitative, it loses power. Respect and intention matter. Some artists cross that line — they shock without purpose. I believe good work should be grounded in something honest, not just provocation.

The Artist Versus the Artwork

Kasper: So for you, what matters more — the art or the artist?

Andreas: The artist. I’m drawn to people who live their art fully — who are driven and passionate. A hyper-realistic painting can impress me technically, but I connect more to an artist whose life and work feel intertwined. I’m fascinated by people who are completely absorbed in their own creative universe.

Ambition and Longevity

Andreas: Artistic credibility doesn’t come overnight. It takes years of commitment. You can’t become an artist in a year; you have to grow into it. When a famous artist shows an empty canvas, people see meaning in it because of their established credibility. That’s why I believe consistency and belief are everything. The story behind the work matters as much as the work itself.

Art as Conviction

Andreas: Once you believe fully in your work, it gains power. Even if you present a moldy tea bag, it can be great art if you stand behind it completely. For me, art is conviction. That’s what I strive for — to make what I believe in, and to grow into the kind of artist whose sincerity carries weight.

Closing Thoughts

Kasper: So, in the end, what drives you most?

Andreas: Curiosity. Transformation. Storytelling. I make art to understand myself and others — to become other people and, in doing so, find out who I really am.

Interview conducted by Kasper Vandekerckhove, edited for clarity and length — recorded in Brussels and Leuven, 2025.