Stepping into Bob Mollema’s studio is like walking into a portal, where every object buzzes with untold stories. His work is drenched in mythology and symbols, while firmly planted in the present moment. We sat down with him to talk about the forces shaping his practice, the talismans and alter egos that guide him, and why looking to the past might just be the key to moving forward.
Your studio feels like a universe unto itself—your work fills every inch of the walls, surrounded by books and oddities. Are they keeping you company while you work?
My studio is a physical expression of all my fascinations. The books, image archives, and objects are like little portals and monuments. I see connections everywhere. I let elements collide or mentally rub against each other until they merge. I'm deeply inspired by existing visual culture and let it guide me, rather than chasing originality. For me, it's essential to pick up the visual language that has existed for thousands of years, magnify it, expand it, and pass it on. As artists, we continue the human experience captured in images, carrying it forward for new generations.
One monument I draw strength from is a water bottle that broke my fall during a car crash when I was sixteen. Thanks to it, I survived. The water is still in that bottle, which I've never opened since. The bottle is wholly battered and is a reminder of death always lurking. It is a talisman for living in the moment! Another one is an alter ego I had for a while named Flip Zonnheuvel. His mask hangs in my studio and acts as a pick to dig deep into myself. It allowed me to get in touch with a deep creative undercurrent that I was afraid to approach before. I located a creative fountain that I have now been able to cultivate as part of my personality.
"I believe that if we resuscitate the old gods, we can better reconnect with the world around us"
A lot of your work seems to echo something ancient—symbols, figures that feel like they belong to another time. What do they reveal about the present?
I'm fascinated by mythological motifs because they come from a time when gods embodied the world around us and our emotions, not something separate from it. The belief that we were created outside of nature has blurred the line between humans and the natural world. It reveals how disconnected, uprooted, and lost we have become on this planet. I believe resuscitating the old gods can help us reconnect through stories and symbols. If we use art to shape our deepest undercurrents rather than overcoming nature, we can better connect with our environment and each other.
So, nature plays an increasingly big role in your art, while your works move further and further away from realism.
The one-to-one imitation of nature or our surroundings isn’t true realism—it’s merely a reproduction of the light imprinted on our retinas. Realism, instead, lies in capturing the internal images that emerge in their purest form. In that sense, you could say I advocate for a kind of naiveté. More importantly, I believe that by listening to your inner world, you stay close to your signature—honest and transparent. To me, that’s the purest form of realism.
Words and images by Kees de Klein