A reflective essay for art collectors about consuming less, valuing care and attention, and choosing slower, more meaningful ways of living with art and the world.

We Have a Choice

We Have a Choice is a reflective essay for art collectors about consuming less and valuing care, attention, and time. Through everyday observations — a crooked plane tree, shared books, waiting behind a garbage truck — the text explores an alternative to fast transactions. It reflects on living with art and objects as a conscious practice, asking how we choose to relate to what already exists and how small, careful choices can open other ways of being.

ericafraaije

2 days ago2 min read

A reflection on waiting as a way of being — in people, objects, and making — without expectation.

Waiting without expectation

This essay reflects on waiting as a way of being. It moves from a quiet moment before a Pilates class, through memories of blossoms, poems, and missed expectations, to objects resting in a thrift shop. Waiting appears not as delay, but as presence — in making, in daily life, and in allowing time to unfold without expectation.

ericafraaije

6 days ago3 min read

Stopped too early

In a time when decluttering and pushing forward are often seen as solutions, this reflection explores a different kind of perseverance: staying. Through studio work, materials in progress, and moments of care and attention, the text considers protection without aggression, clarity that comes too early, and responsibility toward materials that have meaning. It reflects on staying with complexity — with materials, illness, climate, and friendship — as a way of remaining present

ericafraaije

Jan 53 min read

At the end of this year, I notice that I look different from how I used to- about Presence Without Explanation.

Lightness without losing seriousness. A quiet reflection at the end of the year.

ericafraaije

Dec 31, 20252 min read

A soft, round textile form with layered openings. What began as a keyhole now resembles an eyeball or even an iris scanner; the shape shifts depending on how we name it. Mixed media, 2025.

Which Boundary Shall We Cross Today? Which keys will we find?

I often start without an end in mind. I work with what is already present: the place I’m in, the tools I have, the material, my own strength and mood. By breaking familiar patterns—sometimes gently, almost invisibly—I discover new possibilities. A work is never truly finished; it keeps shifting, waiting to be reopened, seen and understood anew.

ericafraaije

Dec 9, 20254 min read

A fabric key with soft folds hangs next to a rigid metal key made of hardware and tensioned straps, showing a strong contrast in material properties.

Softness as a Choice

Two keys, two materials, two ways of opening and closing. This piece explores how softness, tension, and our oldest instincts shape the way we move through the world. The materials speak — and the interpretation remains open.

ericafraaije

Nov 16, 20253 min read

Weaving Vulnerability into Form + upcoming expositions

In my studio, questions come before knowledge, and materials come before questions. I start with what is at hand — fragments waiting for meaning. Listening becomes a way of working. Loss, both remembered and unfolding, is part of that process. Through absence and imperfection, new forms emerge. Each key in the Key Series opens new layers of meaning — a practice of attention, moving from vulnerability to form.

ericafraaije

Oct 31, 20252 min read

Half hardened but not half hearted, sculpture between firm and tender

A reflection on care, frugality and mildness, about finding meaning in what already exists, how materials become whole in the right context.

ericafraaije

Oct 11, 20251 min read

Sleutels tot waarheid – over Rilke, Houvast en mijn komende expositie in Warmond

Sleutels als zoektocht naar waarheid en context. Van Rilke tot mijn expositie in Warmond.

ericafraaije

Sep 13, 20252 min read

Finish to Exist

Let it exist Sometimes, finishing something matters more than making it perfect. I completed a woven nest — layers of branches, rattan, and dried blooms, with a light hidden inside. It felt complete, like everything had found its place. The same day, I finished an old writing prompt. Both reminded me: You don’t have to get it right. You just have to let it exist.

ericafraaije

Jul 31, 20252 min read