YOU’VE GOT THE LOVE, An Interview with Liselotte Watkins
YOU’VE will come. GOT THE LOVE, An Interview with Liselotte Watkins text Natalia Muntean images courtesy of Liselotte Watkins and CFHILL “I am a kiosk,” says Liselotte Watkins. For Watkins, a kiosk is more than a nostalgic nod to the disappearing newsstands of Italy, it’s a metaphor for her art, a space where history, memory, and everyday objects collide to tell stories that bridge the past and present. Her need to see new things and experience new places has taken her from a small town in Sweden to Texas, New York, Paris, Rome and now Tuscany. “Moving around has shaped me,“ she says. “I’m like a treasure hunter. I collect experiences, and they come back to me years later.” Watkins says that challenging herself in new environments has done her good and that she enjoys diving into the culture wherever she finds herself. “When I came to Tuscany, I wanted to learn everything about the Renaissance, the Medici, Florence. I immerse myself in it, and that expands my world,” she says. In her latest exhibition, Edicola, at CFHILL Gallery in Stockholm, Watkins tells stories, of which she has many, all kept in “a bank of memories” she draws from. She weaves together fragments of art history, personal narratives, and pop culture into a tapestry that is as thought-provoking as it is visually stunning. In Edicola, stories both old and new are confronted, engaged in dialogue, creating a bridge between what has been, what is and what YOU’VE will come. Natalia Muntean: You started as an illustrator, working with big names like Vogue, Prada, and Marimekko. What led to your transition from illustration to becoming an artist?Liselotte Watkins: When I moved to New York, I was just surviving. Fashion was exciting in the ’90s, and I got my first job at Barneys. I didn’t know much about fashion, so I studied everything: designers, editors, history. Knowing my stuff helped me a lot. But over time, fashion became less about knowledge and more about being part of the “cool” crowd. I got bored. I’ve always drawn and painted, so the transition felt natural. I didn’t think, “Now I’m an artist.” It just happened. The discipline I learned as an illustrator still helps me – I get up in the morning and go to the studio. That’s what I’m used to. NM: What happens when you get to your studio and there’s no inspiration?LW: Inspiration doesn’t just come. You have to work for it. If you’re constantly working, thinking, and immersed in it, it’s more about curiosity. If my curiosity ever faded, I’d be really upset. If I woke up and felt like, “Oh, I don’t want to know or see or think about anything today,” that would be sad. But inspiration… I don’t even know what that is. I can feel inspired to clean the he house, but inspiration to paint? That’s just what I do. NM: You don’t see it as something that randomly visits you. It’s more like a muscle that you train.LW: Of course! I don’t think any artist would say it just comes and visits like a muse. It’s not like the old Greeks, where you’d pray to the Muses and hope they’d show up. You have to put that idea aside. If you start thinking like. that, you’ll just sit there and do nothing. Nothing’s going to come if you wait for it. No one’s going to knock on your door and say, “Hi, I’m your muse.” And I think that’s depressing for some people to hear because they think artists just sit around and wait for inspiration. I can’t speak for everyone, but I don’t think it works that way. By doing, you make things happen. NM: Do you have any rituals to get you in the mood to work?LW: I drink coffee, and I need to have some quiet time. I take walks with my dogs and think about what I need to do that day: what’s a priority, what can wait. But when I’m in my studio, it’s my little bubble. NM: Do you usually have a plan for what to work on, or is it more intuitive?LW: Everything is planned. Even if the plan doesn’t always go accordingly, I have an idea. I research, think, do more research, and have different projects going. I also try to have a project that involves other people so I don’t isolate myself completely. You have to include people in your work. It’s better to share and collaborate because if you keep everything to yourself, it can be hindering. NM: Are you comfortable with feedback?LW: Yes, but that’s something I learned as a commercial illustrator. You get harsh feedback sometimes, and it taught me not to take it personally. Now I’m more stubborn because my work is more personal. I argue more. Now I think, “Why don’t they get it?” But you have to stop that. The people I work with now are young, and they know so much about today. You have to be open to that. I can’t sit here thinking I’m some kind of veteran. NM: What is your earliest memory of creating something, or painting?LW: I didn’t grow up in a very creative home. My mother was a dog trainer and painted dogs for other people. She was quite good at it, but it wasn’t a creative environment. We didn’t have art books or go to exhibitions. But I was always drawing. In a very Swedish way, in the 70s, nobody acknowledged it. It was just something you did. I always had the highest grades in drawing, but no one said, “Oh, you’re really good at it.” It was like, “Everybody’s equal. Don’t make anyone feel special.” That’s kind of why I went to the States. I needed a break. I knew I was good at drawing, not a genius, but it made me feel good. It was a big part of finding out who I was. I explored myself through drawing. It was a place where I felt good about myself. I didn’t even know it was something you could









