Rabin Huissen on Traces, Rituals & Vulnerability : "We all leave blueprints of our experiences in life."
Rabin Huissen doesn’t just make art. He leaves traces of his existence, embedding himself into each piece with an immediacy that feels both intimate and evocative. His work captures the ephemeral, transforming fleeting gestures into permanent imprints. Using his body as a tool, he stains, presses, and transfers his presence onto delicate surfaces, creating ghostly, acid-blue forms that hover between absence and permanence. The result is visceral—an archive of movement, a record of presence that resists erasure. There’s something deeply personal yet universal in his process, a ritual of self-exposure and transformation. We spoke with Rabin about the act of creating with the body, the vulnerability of leaving literal marks behind, and how touch—raw, direct, and unfiltered—is at the core of his artistic practice.
CAN YOU TELL US MORE ABOUT YOUR BEGINNINGS – WHAT WAS THE MOMENT YOU DECIDED CONCEPTUAL ART IS SOMETHING YOU WANT TO DO? WAS THERE A PIVOTAL MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU REALIZED ART WASN’T JUST A PATH BUT A NECESSITY FOR YOU?
Yes, I remember my first encounter with art, and how it touched me! It was in primary school. That’s where I made my first ‘conceptual’ artwork, even though I didn’t realize it at the time. It was a cast of my hand, made of white plaster. I was seven years old. It was a pure and great discovery for me. I still remember it like it was yesterday—especially how my right hand touched the soft milky texture of white plaster and seeing my hand getting all covered by it. That material touching material was a revelation! This replica of my hand became a real work of art. My mother had hung the artwork on the inside of the cabinet in our living room. Every time we had breakfast, lunch, or dinner, the cabinet would open, and I would see my artwork hanging there. As I saw the artwork every day, I realized that I could physically translate my feelings with materials into a visual object. This allowed me to get closer and deeper into my inner feelings. I felt complete, and it became a necessity for me. This childhood memory really shaped me and still does, and it's also the way I like to approach art.
By touching a surface or my own body, I realize myself that we need matter in the world. That colour, texture and materials are there for healing and to feel part of a whole. Rabin Huissen
Touching is a big part of my art practice. Maybe that is the reason why I use paper as the main material in my practice. It’s so diverse—from lightweight to heavyweight papers and in all varieties of transparency, structures, and sizes. Besides paper, I love to touch all sorts of surfaces such as soil, sand, glass, stones, textiles, furs, wood, concrete, plastics, walls, etc. Each has its own character and special qualities. By touching a surface or my own body, I realize that we need matter in the world. Color, texture, and materials are there for healing and to feel part of a whole. I feel it is all connected. And yes, my work can be touched gently.
YOUR ACID BLUEPRINTS HAVE SUCH A DISTINCT PRESENCE AND ARE THE EVIDENCE OF AN INTIMATE BODILY EXPERIENCE. CAN YOU WALK US THROUGH THE PROCESS OF CREATING THEM? WHERE DOES IT BEGIN, AND HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHEN A PIECE IS COMPLETE?
That's right, they do! My work is about showing my state of consciousness and focuses on the human body, especially my own body and the traces I leave in the world. From my footprints on the beach to the fingerprints on a coffee cup, and also the way I wear my clothes and the little marks—like scratches—I leave in the interior of my house. We all leave blueprints of our experiences in life. I am fascinated by that and feel the urge to visualize these marks in my photograms/paintings.
My process starts by getting myself in the right frame of mind through the ritual of waking up one or two hours before sunrise. I love this moment. It is a moment of transition where night becomes day and where something becomes something else. It is a surreal and wonderful place to be and to start creating.
Every work begins with a preparation process. I start by choosing the type of paper, size, and shape and then collect all the ingredients and tools needed to make light-sensitive paper. This process requires precision and focus. It is a challenging part because the entire process must be done in pitch darkness to avoid any exposure to UV light! I can only rely on my instinct and intuition.
Since most of my artworks are made while traveling, doing this process with precision in different locations is always a challenge. But I believe that this is also part of my artwork. My previously prepared photo paper reacts to daylight and is exposed when I feel ready. These ‘performances’ of making the artwork are always unannounced and take place in public spaces. Time is the invisible agent that makes the reaction happen and ultimately records the moment. Natural conditions such as sun, wind, temperature, sand, dust, and water interfere with the process, and that is what I love. The bright colors and textures arise during and after this process, influenced by pigments, liquids, and inks. The entire process is like playing—experimenting with different elements until I instinctively know when a piece is complete.
HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHICH MOMENT/MOVEMENT YOU WILL CAPTURE WITH YOUR ART?
I follow my intuition. It is a powerful and important human asset.
My works are the result of meticulous rituals, where I follow a script with instructions I have set for myself to capture movement in time. The script acts as a structural framework where I am the initiator and often the 'performer'. These are the ingredients of my work: the script that sets up a situation, human contact, and the natural circumstances that make the experience possible. The outcome varies, from small-scale photograms to human-scale compositions.
Our intuition is our compass and is unique to each of us. I trust mine completely. The moment of creation, or the choice of movement, is based on my intuitive feeling, and it is pure. I strongly believe that there is no right or wrong in it. It helps me connect more deeply with my true self.
YOU HAVE TRAVELED A LOT DURING THE PAST YEARS, PARTICIPATING IN DIFFERENT RESIDENCY PROGRAMS. WHAT HAS BEEN THE IMPACT AND ROLE OF TRAVELING IN YOUR WORK?
Traveling and participating in residency programs is indeed an essential aspect of my creative process. I love exploring new places, countries, and cultures because traveling invigorates me with energy, ideas, and insights. Through exploration, I learn new things and, in turn, discover more about myself. Although it can be challenging—and sometimes tough—these experiences always lead to growth. In new environments, I often find myself reinventing how I function and create my art. It’s all part of the journey, and I enjoy it.
This means that my work is influenced by different factors such as location, culture, season, temperature, natural elements, my body, my emotions, and timing. I try to ‘feel’ and ‘read’ the room. For example, the result of an artwork made on a tropical island feels and looks different from an artwork made between cold mountains. You could say that my work is shaped by the environment, just as growing up in the countryside is different from living in a big city. Both experiences shape who I am and thus shape my art.
In recent years, I have felt the urge to consciously touch the materials I work with, such as paper, sand, plants, water, pigments, ink, and more. This tactile connection keeps me grounded in my surroundings. At the end of my making process, I create a handmade white box for each artwork, which then gets a place on a shelf in my archive. This growing archive represents a collection of personal memories. By arranging these boxes in chronological order, one can follow the evolution of my artistic style and travels.
YOUR WORK IS VERY PERSONAL, WITH YOUR BODY AT THE HEART OF YOUR CREATIONS. IT URGES US TO RECONNECT WITH THE ESSENTIAL PARTS OF OURSELVES. HOW HAS THIS PROCESS RESHAPED YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF PHYSICALITY AND VULNERABILITY?
Yes, it is true that my work is very personal.
My artworks depict communal shared experiences that manifest on my body. In addition, my work searches for a limitless universal language. I use my body as a tool to create my art, and I am not ashamed or uncomfortable portraying it. It is certainly something personal, but at the same time, I create a visual language and use my body as a tool, a visual grammar. Everyone has a body and can relate to someone else’s body in some way. So when I use my body, it is not about a private message but about an understandable meaning that everyone should be able to connect with.
Unfortunately, we still live in a macho world where men can’t show their feelings too much. But why is that? Rabin Huissen
I don’t struggle as an artist to break the barrier between my creations and my personal body. It’s so important, at least for me, to feel comfortable in your own body. I’m also aware that I make myself vulnerable by doing this. I’ve taught myself to say that it’s okay to show my feelings and that I don’t have to be ashamed of them. Unfortunately, we still live in a macho world where men can’t show their feelings too much. But why is that?
It took me a long time to get to know and love my body. Really! As a male teenager, I never felt truly connected to it. Later, as I got older, I started doing yoga. During these group sessions in front of the mirror, I saw how beautiful the human body is—how it works and how you can use it to feel better. I became fascinated by it. Taking care of my body was something new to me because I grew up in a masculine society where men don’t pay much attention to their bodies. But even as a male artist, working with a male body is something unusual. In my art, I use my own body to say something about the present. It also helps me understand it and how to take care of it. It is not just a vessel. The body is a powerful instrument. It helps me understand the world around me and how to relate to it. It lives, breathes, transforms, and grows all the time. The concept of the body runs like a common thread through my artistic practice.
THE COLORS SEEM TO BE AN IMPORTANT PART OF YOUR WORK – THE WAY YOU USE THEM, COMBINE THEM – IS THERE A SPECIAL CREATIVE PROCESS BEHIND HOW YOU SELECT THEM?
Yes, the colors in my works have an intentional meaning or contain a 'secret' or 'code.' In my work, I have many secrets and codes that are developed for personal use only, as a personal reminder of date, time, location, action, or state of being, etc. I hope that the colors and textures have their own energy and speak for themselves.
An example of a color code that I work with relates to the seven days of the week. If I make an artwork on Monday, logically, it is yellow. For me, yellow relates to Monday, pink to Tuesday, and green to Wednesday, etc. The intensity or brightness of the color depends on how I feel at that moment. Therefore, the interpretation of the intensity or brightness relates to my feelings.
Besides adhering to my conceptual idea of color codes, the intensity or brightness is very personal. But not only color plays a big role in my work—texture and materials do as well. They speak and give direction to how the artworks should be read. All these ingredients in a work play an important role in the whole picture. The color, size, texture, and even the back of the work are just as important as the front, which is why I see my work as a sculptural object rather than a two-dimensional image.
IF YOU WEREN’T AN ARTIST, WHERE DO YOU THINK ALL THESE IDEAS AND EMOTIONS WOULD HAVE GONE? WHAT WOULD YOU BE DOING INSTEAD?
If I weren’t an artist, I would have been an architect. The reason I feel this way is because I consider my own body as my home. I believe that the body is not only a vessel but also the place where our soul lives. It helps me understand the world around me and how to relate to it. It is always living, breathing, transforming, and growing.
A house is also temporary. We need to understand it in order to determine how to take care of it. I feel a strong passion for architecture and the idea that a place, space, or building can give you a sense of connection. I think I could put all my ideas and emotions into architecture. So, if I weren’t an artist, I would definitely have become an architect!
AS AN ARTIST, WHAT IS FREEDOM TO YOU?
Freedom means everything to me, and my art practice can take me there. Art is a vehicle that can take you anywhere!
IS THERE A PARTICULAR ARTIST THAT STRONGLY INSPIRED YOU IN YOUR ARTISTIC JOURNEY?
Yes, there are a few artists who have inspired me and still do. But my great hero is still the conceptual artist stanley brouwn. He was an example of conceptualism from the 60s, and his best-known works include This Way Brouwn.
Later in the 70s, brouwn created a new measurement system using his own body as a standard to investigate how distances are perceived. By combining an abbreviation of his name and units of measurement based on his own body, he introduced the "sb-foot," "sb-cubit," and "sb-step."
As brouwn said: “My work is a way of existing, a way of being.” For me, this is truly inspiring!
WHAT IS NEXT FOR YOU?
I am very excited about the future!
It started off great with the completion of two publications this year. One is my first monograph, and the other is an art publication about an exhibition I did—in a work of art that is also a building.
In addition to this great opportunity, I am starting an art residency in the spring on the southern island of Kyushu in Japan, which I am very excited about! I will be doing research on Shinto philosophy and how it is implemented in Japanese architecture. This is where my fascination with architecture comes in! (laughs). The residency space is in an old traditional Japanese house.
I want to better understand Shinto, the architecture built with this philosophy, and how I can integrate it into my art practice. I strongly believe that this work period in Japan will strengthen my artistic vision.
I think that my special collaboration with ceramic master Genta Yamamoto will make it even stronger. Master Yamamoto is famous for his glaze and pottery that is still used for Japanese tea ceremonies. He finds the clay and glass in the surroundings of his studio and kiln. In addition, he dedicates his life to the rhythm of nature. So inspiring, don't you think?!
What I am most looking forward to is how I will delve further into Japanese culture and how my body relates to it. This will result in an exhibition in Japan, but also at the Fotomuseum in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, at the end of 2025.
Portraits : Jacqueline Fuijkschot
Images of the artworks : Christina Nesterova
Images of the artworks : Christina Nesterova