Maïa Taïeb (Paris, 2000) is a multi-disciplinary artist based in Amsterdam.

 “Fuelled by a love for tools and craftsmanship, my practice dances in equilibrium with different mediums and what they offer me. Through sculpture and installations, I explore my materialistic obsessions. Using these tangible forms, I transpose my imaginary fantasies into a palpable reality. My sculptural practice often encounters video making, entering a great playground for blurring lines between props and furniture. With a keen eye for cinematic storytelling, I use moving images to delve into topics that relate to my identity and the societal conditions that shape it. My close relationship to materiality feeds my filmmaking with tangible sensitivity and my cinematic plots infuses concepts for new sculptures to arise. I connect this approach to the realm of dreams—perhaps the closest an adult can get to the boundless creativity of a child’s vision. Like childhood perspectives, dreams dismantle rigid logic, allowing for fluid narratives where objects, spaces, and emotions merge in unexpected ways. This sensibility shapes how I approach both materiality and storytelling. I like to use playfulness as a resilient tool resisting violence, opening symbolic windows to playgrounds for me and the audience to indulge, laugh, scream and obsess. Often times, my work reveals in the intersections of play and critique. I think of my practice as a living being, growing with my experiences, both ‘expressing’ and ‘telling me’ about who I am and where I am.”

Maïa Taïeb’s work has travelled to festivals such as Go Short Festival as well as galleries and museum like Gallerie Chloe Salgado (Paris), the Stedelijk Museum (Amsterdam) and The Eye film Museum (Amsterdam) whose Collection center recently acquired one of her work.

How would you describe your artistic practice, and what are the primary themes in your work?

I like to think of my practice as playful. Recently, it has evolved towards more site-specific processes and spatial interventions. As a tool lover, my work is an excuse to learn traditional crafts, particularly woodworking. I often draw inspiration from design methodologies and research to shape my concepts and production methods.

My main themes revolve around children’s imagination, emotional relationships with objects, and alternative truths—nourished by mythology and my own political opinions.

What projects are you currently working on, and what inspires you these days?

I’m currently in residence at the Moving Art Centre of Amsterdam, working on a theatrical film installation that immerses the audience in a child’s gaze—where reality, mythology, and fiction merge into a non-hierarchical belief system. Blending film, set design, and projection mapping, the installation reconstructs the way a child processes and makes sense of the world.

This project is both thrilling and daunting, as I’m experimenting with new techniques such as projection mapping, light design, and theatrical elements on a larger scale than ever before.

What are your thoughts on the Amsterdam art scene? How has WOW Amsterdam helped you build new connections?

I’m currently rediscovering the Amsterdam art scene, and I’m growing increasingly fond of it. When I first moved here from Paris, I found it quite underwhelming—mostly because I wasn’t yet aware of the variety of spaces and communities that exist beyond the obvious ones I got to know through my school.

Building connections outside of my initial academic circle was, and still is, a key goal for me. Moving into WOW last August has been incredibly stabilizing. Having a secure home and a supportive community is invaluable—especially in the inherently unstable life of an emerging artist. Knowing that I have stable housing for the next five years allows me to plan ahead, be more ambitious, and take risks in my work. Through WOW, I also discovered Lola Lieven, where I will soon start to organize community activities with children—a project that means a lot to me and that will feed my research.

What brought you to Amsterdam? How has the transition been for you?

I moved to Amsterdam just after turning 19. I had lived my whole life in Paris, and I knew that if I didn’t leave for my studies, I might never take the leap. Paris is a city that I’m deeply connected to, but I wanted the experience of living abroad.

Getting into the Rietveld Academie felt like stepping into a big playground. Despite the whirlwind of change, the excitement of beginning a new chapter made any growing pains fade into the background.

What challenges do you face when creating new work, and how do you overcome them?

Currently, the biggest hurdle is the cost of bringing ideas to life. I don’t have a continuous studio practice, so every new project is a fun (and sometimes stressful) puzzle of logistics and finances. Art-making is only one part of the journey—the rest involves research, application writing and creative problem-solving. I tackle these challenges by chasing funded residencies, repurposing materials, and mastering DIY techniques when big machines aren’t an option.

And when solitude sets in, I make a point of engaging with communities/friends and group residencies to keep the creative energy flowing.

After graduating from the Gerrit Rietveld Academie, how did you adjust to post-student life?

After graduating, I dedicated a year to my collective, Cranberry Juice, after we secured a great funding opportunity. We developed an intercurricular program at the Rietveld, releasing a podcast and publication, organizing workshops, and hosting lectures on gender and sexual inequalities, as well as the future of contraception.

In retrospect, decentering my personal practice for a year was super healthy move—it protected me from the post-graduation void that many artists experience. Meanwhile, I spent that time applying to open calls, strategically building a coming year full of opportunities.

You work between film and fine art—how do you balance these two worlds?

My close relationship to materiality feeds my filmmaking with tangible sensitivity and my cinematic plots infuses concepts for new sculptures to arise.

I connect this approach to the realm of dreams—perhaps the closest an adult can get to the boundless creativity of a child’s vision. Like childhood perspectives, dreams dismantle rigid logic, allowing for fluid narratives where objects, spaces, and emotions merge in unexpected ways. This sensibility shapes how I approach both materiality and storytelling.

How do you maintain financial stability in the often unpredictable art world?

Financial stability has always been a priority. Over the past two years, I’ve worked as a content creator and editor for a film festival and a residency program, which provided a stable base income. I supplemented this with freelance work (editing, production, commissions) and opportunities within my own practice (sales, paid residencies, etc.).

Currently, I’m focusing on long-term funding applications to sustain myself fully through my artistic practice in the coming year.

What five key elements do you consider essential for a sustainable artistic practice?

• Stable housing
• A basic income
• A healthy mind and body
• A strong network and community
• Making work from a place of honesty and excitement—be self-driven and autonomous!

Where do you see yourself artistically and personally in the next few years? Do you follow a plan or trust your instincts?

In the next 2-5 years, I see myself rooted in Amsterdam, strengthening my presence in the contemporary art scene. I hope to grow through community and collaborations, and my dream is to create or join a woodworking workshop for women and gender minorities.

I follow my instincts, but they are grounded in rational calculations—I try to balance ambition with a realistic approach to opportunities.

How do you recharge creatively and emotionally?

When I get overwhelmed, I remember that I’m not a doctor who saves lives, or a school teacher forming the next generation of kids. I’m just a girl who likes to make things and will fight to make this my life job.

I work out quite often, mostly running in the forest which is quite central to my emotional regulation.

Creatively, when I feel uninspired, I make sure my vital needs are met (enough sleep etc..) and then I feed myself from inspiring things: films, exhibitions, conversations with friends or fellow artists, helping people…

If you could be reincarnated as a plant or animal, what would you choose and why?

I would be a donkey. I get told a lot that I have eyes of a donkey, which is the best compliment. Donkeys are very sensitive, charismatic and emotionally intelligent. They also really seem to have fun and I love that they express themselves in such a singular way of singing.

Photos by Roman Ermolaev