Julia Rehme is a Berlin-based painter whose work explores forms of perception beyond language and representation. Through intuition, experimentation, and openness to chance, she creates abstract paintings rooted in instinct, the archaic, and a sense of ancient knowledge. Her practice bridges inner and outer worlds, drawing on observations of nature, material processes, and the parallels between microcosm and macrocosm. Working with fluid pigments on raw canvas, Rehme embraces the balance between control and surrender, allowing each painting to emerge through a direct dialogue between gesture, material, and perception.
The archaic and the childlike play an important role in your work as forms of expression beyond language. What draws you to these two poles in your artistic practice?
I am not interested in the childlike and the archaic as stylistic devices, but as states of being. They relate to a realm of perception that precedes language, something primordial that all of us carry within us. A thought that often accompanies me comes from Agnes Martin, who said, in essence, that she did not paint what she saw, but what we already know deep within ourselves.
In my work, I try to approach that space. Intuition, chance, and immediate response play a central role in this process. I deliberately create situations that escape my control—flowing colors, unpredictable traces, or material reactions—and then respond to them spontaneously as the work unfolds. What emerges is a kind of dialogue between what happens and my reaction to it.
The more I let go, the closer I often come to something that feels truthful to me. This reminds me of the openness with which children draw or play: not because they want to represent something, but because they respond directly to their perception. I am interested in what emerges when one responds to the world from that source. Painting is the language through which such experiences can be expressed for me—the place where words reach their limits.
The relationship between microcosm and macrocosm appears as a recurring motif throughout your work. To what extent do you see your painting as an attempt to connect inner and outer worlds?
For me, painting exists precisely at the intersection between the inner and outer world. It is a place where perceptions, memories, moods, and observations can enter into dialogue with one another.
I am fascinated by the fact that structures often resemble each other on both small and large scales. Microscopic images can sometimes evoke landscapes or cosmic scenes, while satellite views may appear strikingly organic. I see these visual parallels as indications that many things are interconnected and repeat themselves across different scales.
My works often begin with observations of the external world but are transformed through internal processes. The aim is less to depict something concrete than to open a space in which these two dimensions can meet. Painting thus becomes a form of translation between what we experience and what we carry within ourselves.
You worked for many years as a tattoo artist, engaging deeply with skin as a surface. How has the transition to canvas and paper changed your perception of materiality and physicality?
Skin has always interested me as a boundary between the inner and outer world. As a tattoo artist, I witnessed how people use images to make their identities, memories, and inner visions visible. In a sense, skin functioned as a medium of translation.
With painting, the underlying questions have remained the same, but the material has changed. Canvas and paper allow for a different kind of immediacy. I work extensively with fluid paints, water, and spontaneous material reactions. A comparable process would hardly be possible on skin, where every decision must be executed with precision and control.
Today, I am less interested in producing a predetermined image than in responding to what emerges during the act of painting. This is why I prefer working on raw canvas or untreated surfaces. The paint is absorbed directly into the material, and traces appear quickly and irreversibly. This openness and rawness are essential aspects of the process for me.
The physicality of my work now lies less in the motif itself than in the direct encounter between gesture, material, and surface. It is precisely there that the space emerges in which intuition, perception, and material enter into dialogue.
You are part of the Anniversary Show as a winner of the New & Abstract Open Call. What does this participation mean to you, and how do you see your work within the context of this exhibition?
Participating in the Anniversary Show means a great deal to me. I have followed New & Abstract for many years and particularly value the platform for its openness toward diverse artistic positions and life paths.
It is important to me that contemporary art is no longer visible through only a single route. There are countless backgrounds, experiences, and biographies that can shape an artistic practice. New & Abstract creates a space where this diversity becomes visible, and I consider that one of its greatest strengths.
I am especially excited to be exhibiting alongside artists whose work I genuinely admire. The selection brings together many distinctive and compelling positions, and it is a great honor to be able to present my own work in such a context.
The exhibition also holds personal significance for me. Berlin has been my chosen home for many years and a place that has profoundly accompanied my artistic journey. Being able to present my work here as part of this exhibition therefore feels like a particularly meaningful moment.
I see my work as part of a broader dialogue about abstraction, materiality, and personal forms of expression. In an exhibition that brings together different approaches, there is an opportunity to place these perspectives in conversation with one another—and that is precisely what makes such exhibitions so exciting to me.
What are you currently working on, and what are the next steps or developments you envision for your artistic practice?
At the moment, I am focused on reduction. Over the past years, I have explored a wide range of materials, processes, and possibilities. Today, I am increasingly interested in how little is actually needed for a work to hold its own.
As a result, my current painting practice is moving toward greater clarity: fewer layers, more restrained color palettes, and more space for the individual event within a painting. I am interested in how tension, atmosphere, and meaning can emerge without everything being explained or filled in. The unpainted canvas is just as important as the marks that are made.
At the same time, I am returning, in a way, to my roots. Many of my works are based on the properties of fluid materials—water, pigment, and the unpredictable processes that arise from their interaction. This interplay between control and surrender remains a central theme for me.
As a next step, I want to pursue these questions in significantly larger formats. I am drawn to the challenge of transferring the same openness and immediacy that I know from smaller works into paintings spanning several meters. I see my practice as an ongoing process of distillation—not in the sense of searching for answers, but as an increasingly precise approach to the questions that continue to occupy me.