Artist in conversation: Dr. Barbara Raddatz
“ I find beauty and individuality in the patina of age and the charm of decay ”
Barbara Raddatz is an artist whose works embody her visual and emotional perceptions. Born in 1982 in Vilshofen, Lower Bavaria, she invites viewers to journey into the heart of her aesthetic universe, where the interplay of creation and decay is revealed through changing materials and media. Her art serves as a declaration of individuality and a manifesto for those who dare to embrace the extraordinary.
A self-taught artist, Barbara has been experimenting with various materials for several years. In addition to her artistic endeavors, she has an impressive academic background. She completed her high school diploma in 2002, studied veterinary medicine from 2003 to 2009, earned a PhD in neuroscience in 2015, and obtained her Dr. med. vet. doctorate in 2016. By 2019, she had also become a specialist veterinarian in pathology. Barbara's multifaceted expertise enriches her unique artistic perspective, making her work both profound and sophisticated.
What initially inspired you to become an artist, and how did you develop your unique style?
My journey as an artist began with a deep-seated desire to bring my own aesthetic vision to life. I've always had a clear sense of what I find beautiful and sought to create an environment that reflected this vision. This clarity led me to start painting for myself, realizing along the way that others shared an appreciation for my aesthetic.
I’ve never confined myself to a single style; instead, my style has evolved organically from my aesthetic preferences. I find beauty and individuality in the patina of age and the charm of decay, and this perspective permeates my work. My entire life is oriented towards pursuing my unique aesthetic, whether in my art or my surroundings.
My creations blend sculptural elements with two-dimensional canvases, resulting in an organic, dynamic flow. I explore contrasts like light and shadow, texture and smoothness, depth and surface. My images are not peaceful retreats but arenas of struggle, celebrating the transient beauty of life.
In a world that often values the polished and pleasing, my work should stand out as challenging and thought-provoking, reminding us that true beauty often lies in the unexpected and raw aspects of our reality.
Do you have any rituals or routines that help you get into a creative mindset when starting a new project?
My creative process begins with keen observation of the world around me. Inspiration strikes from various sources, be it an intriguing texture or a compelling shape. I channel this inspiration into my art without preliminary sketches, relying on a mental vision of the overall impression I want to convey.
Once I begin translating my mental image onto the canvas, I let the material guide me and respond to the impressions that arise from working with it. Often, my paintings remain unfinished in my studio for weeks. During this time, I reflect on the work. Eventually, I can see clearly what the material is telling me and I can complete the work.
This process-oriented approach is integral to my style, which has developed organically through my aesthetic sensibilities.
How do you approach the process of experimenting with new materials, and what discoveries have been most surprising or transformative for your work?
Experimenting with new materials is like a wild treasure hunt. For me, a trip to the hardware store is like stepping into Disneyland. Seriously, it’s a treasure trove of possibilities. In junkyards and flea markets I’m like a kid in a candy store, grabbing all sorts of odds and ends. Whether it’s old boards, wires, nails, or random trinkets, I know that someday, they’ll find their place in my art.
My studio is a beautiful mess, and I certainly have hoarder-genes, but hey, you never know when that rusty old hinge will become the centerpiece of a masterpiece!
Some stuff has really captured my heart, like this specific type of concrete that I absolutely adore. It's got this amazing ability to capture even the tiniest details, adding a unique flair to my work. And don’t get me started on lime plaster. It’s got these beautiful properties that you can manipulate to create stunning effects. It’s like magic, only messier. And then there’s my secret weapon: the wash bottle. I absolutely love it! Not so much for cleaning, but for creating unforeseeable patterns and effects. It’s like the Swiss Army knife of my studio—perfect for adding that unexpected twist to my pieces.
Playing around with these materials has led to some surprising and transformative discoveries in my artwork. Each new material opens up a world of possibilities and challenges. These discoveries not only expand my creative toolkit but also deepen my connection to the artistic process, reminding me that there’s always something new and exciting to unlock with every experiment. It’s like being on a never-ending adventure, but with more glue and fewer dragons. And honestly, I love getting dirty—my painting style is usually really messy, but that’s half the fun!
What materials and media do you find most inspiring or challenging to work with, and why?
As I mentioned earlier, concrete and lime plaster are old friends in my journey and like my artistic soulmates. But there are plenty of other materials that inspire and challenge me. Tile cement, for example, is my secret weapon for certain effects. Clay holds a special place in my heart; it's incredibly versatile. Wood glue is another unsung hero in my toolkit—super useful for various projects. Silicone and resin, on the other hand, are just so fun to play with and can create some really cool effects.
But let's talk about plaster. Plaster and I do not get along. It's like that one friend who always wants to hang out but just doesn't fit into your plans. Its properties just don't jive with my working style, so I avoid it unless I absolutely have to. I only use plaster to make molds for my ceramic pieces.
Can you share a particular project or photograph that stands out to you and explain the creative process behind it?
One project that really stands out to me is my painting "Neuropathology," a mixed media piece measuring 60x75x11 cm, completed in 2023. This work intertwines elements from my scientific background with my artistic expression, making it particularly special to me.
I’ve always been fascinated by the medical illustrations of Santiago Ramón y Cajal, especially his intricate drawings of pyramidal cells in the cerebral cortex. These detailed depictions honor Cajal’s groundbreaking contributions to neuroscience and highlight the intersection of art and science in our understanding of the human brain's complexities.
For the background of "Neuropathology," I started by etching neurons into concrete, creating a textured homage to Cajal’s illustrations. This process was both meticulous and deeply inspiring, allowing me to connect with the aesthetic beauty of his scientific exploration. However, the foreground proved to be more challenging. I experimented with various elements and compositions, but none seemed to convey my fascination or the personal connection I felt with the subject matter.
The painting stood unfinished in my studio for over a year. It wasn’t until I realized that the piece needed a more personal touch that I decided to integrate a self-portrait with brain in the foreground. This self-portrait symbolizes my personal journey and connection to the theme, bridging my scientific curiosity and artistic vision. I consciously chose "Neuropathology" for my
self-portrait to make a statement about my unconventional approach—perhaps somewhat pathological.
"Neuropathology" invites viewers to reflect on the interplay between art and science. It also emphasizes the importance of careful observation and description, a skill mastered by scientists like Cajal but often overshadowed in modern science by the sheer volume of generated data.
How do you incorporate feedback from critics and audiences into your artistic practice, and how do you balance this feedback with your own artistic intuition?
I love engaging in conversations about my art with people. Given that some of my pieces can be quite polarizing, I receive a mix of feedback—not just praise, but also puzzled looks and critical comments. I genuinely enjoy talking with those who are willing to share their emotions or aversions about my work. I'm interested in understanding why a particular piece evokes certain feelings in them. It's fascinating to delve into these reactions and see what sparks such strong responses.
That said, I don't expect everyone to like my art. Just as I wouldn't hang a floral still life over my own sofa—I've got my "Guardian Angel Malfunction" piece up instead—it's perfectly fine if my work isn't someone's cup of tea. I appreciate diverse opinions, but I don't let them dictate my creative process. While I consider feedback, I ultimately follow my own artistic intuition.
In the end, my art is a reflection of my unique vision. It's a balancing act: respecting and acknowledging the audience's perspectives while staying true to the brutal elegance and spontaneous dynamism that define my work. My goal is to create pieces that challenge and intoxicate the observer, making them think and feel deeply, even if it's uncomfortable. It's in these unexpected, raw corners of our reality that I believe true beauty lies.
How do you stay motivated and inspired despite any setbacks or creative blocks you may encounter?
When I hit a creative block, I get my fix by hitting up art exhibitions or chatting with other artists, whether online or in real life. There's something about watching someone else paint or seeing their work that makes my fingers itch to get back to my own canvas. If I’m stuck on a painting and can't seem to finish it, I just toss it aside and start something new. I've got a head full of ideas waiting to spill out, so it’s never hard to jump into another project. Usually, after a while, I’ll come back to the unfinished piece and suddenly know exactly what it needs. Sometimes, I just mess around with a new technique until something clicks. Plus, let’s be honest, who doesn’t love an excuse to procrastinate a little by "researching" cool new art?
How do you feel about exhibiting your artworks with The Holy Art Gallery?
I’m absolutely thrilled to be exhibiting my artworks with The Holy Art Gallery! It’s like being invited to the cool kids' table. I can't wait to see my piece up on those walls. It’s going to be an amazing adventure, and I’m just so pumped to be a part of it!
Looking ahead, what are your long-term goals and aspirations as an artist, and how do you plan to achieve them?
Looking ahead, my long-term goals as an artist are to continue evolving my style and pushing the boundaries of my creativity. I aspire to have my work exhibited in renowned galleries around the world and to reach a broader audience who can connect with and be inspired by my art.
To achieve these goals, I plan to keep experimenting with new materials and techniques, constantly challenging myself to grow and innovate. I'll continue to engage with the art community, both online and offline, to exchange ideas and gain fresh perspectives. Attending workshops, collaborating with other artists, and staying curious will be key parts of my journey.
Ultimately, my goal is to create art that resonates on a deeper level, sparking thought and emotion, and to leave a lasting impact on the world of contemporary art. I’m excited for the future and all the artistic adventures it holds!
What role does emotion play in your creative process, and and how do you aim to evoke specific feelings or reactions from those who view your artworks?
Emotion is like the secret ingredient in my creative process. It's what turns a collection of materials into a piece of art that can really punch you in the gut—or at least make you stop and think. When I create, I'm pouring my feelings, thoughts, and sometimes even frustrations into it.
Take "Threads of Thanatos," for instance. It's about more than just mortality; it's about confronting the shadows and uncertainties that surround us all. At its core, there's a woman ensnared in ebony threads, symbolizing the labyrinthine complexities of fate. Despite the darkness, her gaze skyward bathed in ethereal light suggests hope—a desire to transcend the mortal coil and embrace the infinite. I've poured a lot of personal experience into this painting. It reflects a journey from a dark place to seeing hope again, much like the hopeful expression on the woman's face.
Emotionally, I want viewers to feel that tug of conflicting emotions—hope and despair, acceptance and yearning. If my work can make someone pause, ponder, and perhaps find solace or inspiration, then I've achieved what I set out to do.
Plus, let's be honest, I love the idea of someone looking at my art and having that "Whoa, what is going on here?" moment. It's all about creating a connection and sparking a reaction, whether it's love, intrigue, or even a bit of confusion. After all, art should be an experience, not just a pretty picture to hang on the wall.