Christa uses arts education for people without an obvious connection to heritage: 'The Netherlands is a difficult country to become part of'

Why Christa chooses to work with this particular group

The idea for her research emerged during conversations at work. 'At Paleis Het Loo, I see how easily many Dutch people walk into a museum. Dutch visitors often have a certain sense of belonging. They think: let’s just go and have a look around the king’s house. Some people even say: I pay taxes, so it’s a little bit mine too. I actually think that’s a beautiful feeling.'

But she doesn’t see that feeling in everyone. 'For many people, heritage doesn’t feel like something that naturally belongs to them. It’s as if a place like this isn’t really meant for them.' According to Christa, this isn’t only about people who are new to the Netherlands. 'People without an obvious connection to heritage can be very different. It can be anyone who feels: this isn’t really part of me.'

She also recognises this from her own family. 'My mother moved from Belarus to the Netherlands at a young age. Because of that, I know how difficult the Netherlands can be to make your own. It can be hard to find your way in. That typical Dutch sense of cosiness is often mainly for ourselves.'

That’s precisely why she wanted to explore how a place like Paleis Het Loo could feel more accessible to people who have only recently arrived here. 'I want everyone to experience that feeling: this is a little bit mine too.'

Education in arts without a language barrier

For her research, Christa worked with students from international transition class De Wereld in Apeldoorn. 'The class consists of young people who have only recently arrived in the Netherlands and first learn Dutch before moving on to mainstream education. One class included students from completely different backgrounds and with different languages. In the end, I translated my assignments into twelve languages, but even then, not everyone immediately understood what they were supposed to do,' Christa says with a laugh. 'That’s when I thought: okay, now I really have to start relying on other ways of communicating. I’ve believed for a long time that you don’t connect with people through language alone. So I wanted to find out: does that actually work? Can I communicate what I mean by working in a sensory and intuitive way?'

'I was really nervous, but it was precisely during those encounters that I realised why I enjoy this work so much. There was one boy who kept saying to me: "Miss, don’t stress." I thought that was so lovely. I arrived there thinking that I had something to offer them, but they gave me just as much in return.'

During the workshops, Christa asked the students to think about what they would like to see, hear or feel in their own version of Paleis Het Loo. They could also choose images that they felt represented them. One boy chose an image of a peacock. 'That immediately caught my attention, because there are peacocks at Paleis Het Loo too. But for the boy, the bird meant something else as well. In his culture, the peacock symbolised his people and his heritage. During our conversation, he also told me that he missed his family and that one of his sisters had died. Later, I made a kind of peacock for him with ten feathers around it, as a symbol of his family.'

For Christa, that is exactly where the power of arts education lies. 'An assignment like this starts small, but suddenly it becomes about identity, memories and belonging.'

How small answers can open up big stories

'What fascinates me is how quickly personal stories emerge when people are given the opportunity to feel or create something. For example, another student said that if it were his palace, he would want to taste coffee and rice. I immediately found that interesting, because why that particular combination? Later, during my research, I discovered that coffee and rice are connected to the colonial history of the Netherlands and Indonesia. A boy says one sentence, and suddenly an entire world opens up. Everything turns out to be connected. That’s exactly what appeals to me about arts education. You’re not just working with words or knowledge, but with memories, scents, food, sounds and images. It leads to different kinds of conversations.'

According to Christa, the master’s programme gave her the opportunity to really explore how heritage can be made accessible to people who don’t automatically feel welcome in those spaces. 'In your day-to-day work, you often don’t have enough time for that. During the master’s, I could spend much more time reflecting on questions such as: what happens when you make language less central? How do you make someone feel seen? When does a museum feel distant, and when does it feel personal?'

In the process, she also became increasingly aware of her own way of working. 'Inclusive, sensory and accessible. Those qualities have always been part of me, but the master’s has strengthened them. I really value the combination of practice, research and social issues. You don’t just learn to think about arts education, but also about how you can use it to make a difference in people’s lives. And it doesn’t have to be complicated. Sometimes it starts with one simple question, such as: What would you like to see in your palace? Ultimately, we are all different, but we also have much more in common than we think.'