Julia Euteneier

Your series With Closed Eyes explores perception and inner states. What initially drew you to the idea of connecting leaves and eyes?

This connection between eyes and plants has been with me for quite some time. About three years ago I worked on a tarot deck, an intuitive hand-illustrated card set that became a tool for self-encounter. In this deck, eyes appeared very frequently. For me, they symbolized intuition and inner perception: everything that moves within us, what touches us, nourishes us, or hurts us. The eye was like a symbol of the ability to perceive what lives inside us, often before we can put it into words.

After completing the tarot deck, I felt the need to explore something more reduced and minimalistic in my drawings. I wanted to work with less, with clearer forms. Even in terms of color, I reduced everything to a single nuance, blue. This color has accompanied me since childhood; it brings calm, depth, and a quiet clarity into my work.

During this phase I began to draw plants, simply because I felt drawn to them. And as I was drawing, I discovered that the shape of the leaves almost naturally suggested eyes. It was not a planned idea, but something that emerged in the process, an organic convergence of forms that had already been moving within me for a long time.

Julia Euteneier | The Tree From Which I Fall

You mention that your practice follows an inner impulse and is free from academic instruction. How do you see the role of intuition in your creative process?

Intuition plays a central role in my creative process; it is the beginning of everything. For me, intuition is a kind of knowledge that has not been learned, and words I have never consciously thought. Sometimes it appears as a quiet voice, sometimes only as a subtle feeling.

This process is not always straightforward. There are moments when logic intervenes, a logic that judges and evaluates and thereby interrupts the creative flow. At such times I feel how important it is to let go of this inner noise in order to create space for what wants to emerge.

For me, intuition has a great deal to do with trust, with trusting something that wants to reveal itself even when I do not yet know where it will lead me. I believe that we as humans often sense more in the body than we know in the mind. When we follow this inner knowledge, a quiet space opens up in which something can become visible that has always been there. It only takes the courage to trust this silence.

And when I follow this inner impulse, I often feel that I am merely the hands that make visible something that has long existed but until then had no form.

Julia Euteneier | The Observed

In your works, the eyes do not look outward but rather inward. What personal experiences or reflections inspired this inward gaze?

I was fortunate to grow up with a mother who showed me from an early age how important it is to look inward. She not only taught me this, but lived it herself. That shaped me deeply, this knowledge that in silence and self-perception there is so much to discover, and that it is essential to look inside oneself first instead of focusing on what is said, thought, or expected on the outside.

The deeper transformation within me, however, began when I became a mother myself. Through my three children I experienced an entirely new dimension of self-encounter. They mirrored me, challenged me, inspired me, and showed me that in order to truly see them, I first had to see myself. Through them I came to understand that true love is only possible when it also includes oneself. This process moved a great deal within me; it was not always easy, but it led me into a depth that is now present in everything I do.

Today this inward gaze is not only an essential part of my work, but also an essential part of my life. I cannot imagine living in any other way than the way I now feel and live. My path unfolds in such a way that, no matter what happens on the outside, I first look inward. I ask myself: What does this show me? What does it do to me? What can I learn from it?

It is an ongoing process of reflection, of recognizing the world we live in, how it functions, and by which rules it operates. And it is also the realization that in life we do not receive what we want, but what we are.

Julia Euteneier | Roots In Darkness Eyes Toward Light

Many of your drawings transform plant structures into hybrid beings. Do you see these beings as symbolic, autobiographical, or something entirely different?

For me these plant beings do have a symbolic meaning. I see a deep connection between us as humans and the plants I draw. Plants have roots that lie invisibly in the soil. We cannot see them, but they are there, firmly anchored and full of strength. It is the same with us humans: we also have roots that are not visible. They are our origins, our family, our ancestors, all the generations before us from which we have emerged.

These invisible roots carry so much within them: our talents, our view of the world, our patterns, preferences, and also our resistances. Everything that shapes us is anchored in these roots. I see them as gifts. Some people recognize these gifts very early, while others need half a lifetime or more to understand what lies within them and how to use this potential for themselves.

Just as plants need their roots to absorb nutrients and water, we too need these invisible roots to find strength, orientation, and energy in life. They are our quiet source, something that carries us, nourishes us, and helps us to overcome challenges or to set out on new paths.

The theme of growth also connects plants and humans. A plant never stops growing. And we too are constantly in motion, not in the sense of optimization or performance, but in the sense of unfolding. There is the visible growth that we can feel, and the inner, quiet growth that continues throughout our whole lives: in our patterns, in our perception, in our understanding of ourselves and the world.

Julia Euteneier | Olive Branch Of Longing

How does your background in fashion design and dressmaking influence the way you approach composition, texture, or rhythm in your artworks?

I am not sure whether my background in fashion directly influences my art. But what I can say about myself is that there was a reason why I chose to study fashion. Even as a child I had a strong need to surround myself with beautiful things. The atmosphere of rooms, the aesthetics of objects, beautiful clothing – all of this was always important to me.

Perhaps this sensitivity now flows naturally into my art. Not in a conscious or deliberate way, but as an inner urge toward beauty, harmony, and something that feels coherent. Creating beauty is what drives me, whether I am painting, designing fashion, or baking a cake. I simply have to create something that feels beautiful to me.

Julia Euteneier | Network Of Attention

The series suggests a dialogue between self and world, language and silence. Do you think your art is a form of non-verbal communication?

Yes, absolutely, and not only my art but art in general. I believe that this is precisely why art exists: so that we can perceive, sense, absorb, and carry something further without the need for words. For me, art is always a form of nonverbal communication. It opens a space where language is no longer necessary, because what touches us becomes directly perceptible.

A work of art is often much more to me than just a beautiful object. It communicates with me. When I stand in front of a painting, I feel something, sometimes joy or lightness, sometimes comfort, sometimes the memory of a particular time. And I also believe that it is no coincidence when something appeals to us or when we are drawn to a work. It means that something within us, perhaps something we cannot yet put into words, has resonated with the work and touched something in us that words often cannot reach.

Julia Euteneier | Growth In Observation

In our fast and noisy times, you create a space for slower perception. What do you hope viewers will feel or experience when standing in front of your works?

I have no concrete expectation of what someone should feel or think. It is not about sending a message. It is enough for me if someone stands in front of a work and feels something, even if they cannot name it. If it opens a quiet dialogue in which the person is simply with themselves for a moment, then that is already enough.