Vera Jochum is an abstract artist based in Illingen, Germany, whose paintings serve as layered reflections of her inner world. These are raw, textural, and emotionally charged.
Her creative process unfolds in silence, on a large horizontal worktable where she builds each piece through an ongoing dialogue of adding, scraping, and revising. What began in 2019 as a full-time commitment during a period of global stillness has since evolved into a distinct visual language rooted in spontaneity and structure.
Jochum’s work has been exhibited in numerous national and international shows, including solo exhibitions at Galleryone962 (Spain), Zhinous Art Gallery (Tehran), and Galerie WerkStadt (Germany), as well as group exhibitions at venues like the Diocesan Museum in Andria, ARTHOUSE SAAR, and the Städtische Galerie Neunkirchen.
In 2024, she was awarded first prize in the YELLOW: Light and Vision exhibition in Italy. Drawing inspiration from everyday textures and fleeting impressions, her paintings invite viewers into quiet contemplation: open-ended spaces where meaning emerges layer by layer.
Vera, if you had to summarize your art in just three words, which ones would you choose and why?
Profound, multi-layered, intuitive.
Profound because my art goes far beyond the surface. It is an expression of my inner world—woven with emotions, experiences, and a constant exploration of what it means to be human. Each painting carries a narrative depth, even if it’s not immediately visible.
Multi-layered because my process consists of numerous overlapping layers—both technically and conceptually. My reduced color palette may seem simple at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it reveals a complex and vibrant depth.
Intuitive because my creative process is guided by emotions, moments, and impulses. I don’t follow a rigid method or adhere to a specific style; instead, I let my inner voice lead me, allowing for a dynamic interplay of construction and deconstruction.
What emotions or ideas do you hope people experience when they engage with your art?
The most beautiful thing is when viewers are touched emotionally, purely on an instinctive level. This experience is deeply personal—each person brings their own associations, memories, and emotions into my work.
The worst thing that can happen to an artist is for their work to evoke no reaction at all. Of course, receiving approval and appreciation is a wonderful feeling, but even a critical or negative response is valuable.
Art should move people—whether they love it or dislike it, any reaction is better than complete indifference.
Vera Jochum, acrylic, charcoal on canvas, 80 x 80 cm
Your process is deeply intuitive, but do you have structured habits or rituals that help you get into the creative flow?
Not really. I approach each painting in such different ways that I wouldn’t call any of them a ritual. That’s precisely one of the messages I want to convey on my YouTube channel: don’t be afraid of the blank canvas! There are countless ways to just start.
Sometimes, I’m inspired by a particular technique I want to try, sometimes by a new color combination or an unfamiliar material. Since my works emerge in many layers, early ones may hardly be visible in the finished piece—or sometimes, what began as a mere experiment becomes the dominant element.
If I have any kind of ritual, it might be this: I always keep something nearby to jot down ideas or quick sketches—even in the middle of the night.
Especially when I reach a point of doubt, when I’m on the verge of giving up on a piece, taking a step back helps. The moment I let go of the initial plan and turn my attention elsewhere, a new idea often emerges—and ironically, these works often become the ones that mean the most to me.
Is there a non-artistic habit or ritual that unexpectedly fuels your creativity?
It could be anything and nothing. I’m not someone who follows fixed rituals, but inspiration can be found anywhere—in everyday moments, fleeting observations, subtle details. If something catches my attention, it often finds its way into my work unconsciously.
What does failure look like in your creative process, and how do you decide whether to push through or abandon a piece?
Almost every painting I create goes through a phase where I think, That’s it, this piece is ruined.
At that point, I have two options—I either cover it with gesso and start over, or I set it aside for a while.
By now, I’ve come to accept this stage as a natural part of my process. Often, it happens just when a layer needs to dry anyway—a perfect moment to step back. I’ve never truly abandoned a piece. The final work may sometimes look nothing like my original idea, but I give myself the freedom to allow that transformation.
As long as a work is in my possession, it can continue to evolve. Some paintings remain in my home for weeks until I finally see what’s bothering me. And when that moment comes, I take it back to the studio and make changes—and I’ve never regretted it.
Many artists seek a connection with their audience, but your work invites open interpretation. Have you ever been surprised by how someone perceived your paintings?
Oh yes, all the time. One of my guiding principles is:
It is not my place to interpret my art—that is the role of the viewer.
I don’t deliberately look for recognizable motifs in my paintings, nor do I want to impose a specific meaning through their titles. What fascinates me is how differently people perceive the same work. I find it particularly exciting when viewers discover shapes or figures in my abstract compositions that I had never noticed myself.
These conversations enrich me deeply because they show me how uniquely art can be experienced.
Is there a moment or theme you’ve always wanted to capture but haven’t yet found a way to translate into paint?
No, not really. I approach whatever I want to express on canvas without fear. That’s also why I resist being confined to a specific artistic direction.
In my early years, I painted exclusively figuratively—not necessarily out of conviction, but simply because no one had ever shown me that there were other possibilities. Over time, I discovered my love for abstraction, but it took a while to find my own visual language.
My sense of color and my drawing skills provided a solid foundation, but it was my willingness to experiment that truly helped me develop my style. I have deliberately never taken art courses—I wanted to find my own path, free from external guidelines.
If your artistic journey were represented as a timeline, what creative turning points would stand out?
There were several pivotal moments.
One of the first was the birth of my children. I used to work exclusively with oil paints—right in our living space. Anyone familiar with oil paints knows that’s not a good idea. Because of this, I stopped painting for several years.
Another turning point was discovering acrylic paints, which opened up an entirely new way of working for me.
But the most significant shift came during the first lockdown of the COVID-19 pandemic. My intense engagement with my art helped me get through that time. It was during this period that I decided to present my work professionally—a challenge I have never regretted.
If you could give one piece of advice to your younger self as an artist, what would it be?
Believe in yourself and trust your abilities.
Don’t depend on the opinions of others—your art will never please everyone, and it doesn’t have to.
Vera Jochum, acrylic on canvas, 70 x 70 cm
Vera Jochum, acrylic, charcoal on canvas, 80 x 80 cm
Vera Jochum, acrylic, charcoal on canvas, 80 x 70 cm
Vera Jochum, acrylic, charcoal on canvas, 100 x 80 cm
Vera Jochum, acrylic, charcoal on canvas, 80 x 70 cm
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All images courtesy of the artist.
