Instagram rarely makes me feel anything other than overstimulated or algorithmically misunderstood. But every once in a while, it delivers something moving. A moment of pause. A creative I’ve never seen before whose work reaches straight through the screen and says, “Slow down. Feel this.”
That’s exactly what happened when I came across the art of painter Claire de Wolf. Her lines were elegant but unpolished, like memory made tangible. Her palettes—the soft pinks, grounded earth tones, and classical shadows—felt not just aesthetically beautiful, but emotionally familiar. I was immediately drawn to her work, and without hesitation, reached out.
The real joy, though, came after our Instagram connection. As you’ll read, Claire isn’t just an artist—she’s a thinker, a feeler, and a woman navigating the beautiful chaos of motherhood, identity, and creativity with the kind of grounded clarity that makes you want to linger in conversation. This interview put a genuine smile on my face. I found myself nodding along, relating deeply, and feeling unexpectedly seen. It reminded me of what social media can be—a place of connection, not just curation.
Claire, an artist, mother, and deeply intuitive observer of life, creates from a place of memory and presence. Her work bridges classical elegance with modern emotion, drawn from generational ties, fleeting childhood impressions, and the everyday beauty of now. What she’s building from her attic atelier isn’t just a body of work—it’s a legacy of expression, intention, and self-trust.
In the spirit of returning The House to its editorial roots, I’m to sharing this conversation with you. Her story is a gentle reminder of the power of listening to your gut, trusting the timing, and creating something meaningful in the quiet corners of your life.
Your artistic roots trace back to your family’s influence, with your mother’s passion for art history and your grandmother’s work as an artist. How have these familial ties shaped your creative journey and the themes you explore in your work?
Those ties have definitely shaped and sparked my creative journey, as it has always amazed me how painting and drawing runs through generations in my family. My mother, grandmother, and great-grandfather were all (literally) drawn to it, and it gives me goosebumps to see how passions truly connect us across time and generations. Since becoming a mother, my reflective and nostalgic side has grown stronger. Lately, I find myself thinking more often about my own childhood and the moments that made me feel my happiest. From the time I was a baby, we always spent our summers in Switzerland, where my grandparents lived. Those weeks were so precious and are a big source of inspiration to me. Surrounded by family, beautiful nature, fresh air, and art. One of the highlights will forever be our visits to the Fondation Pierre Gianadda. I remember walking through exhibitions of Rodin, Renoir, Manet, Matisse & being completely mesmerized. We would come back to my grandparents’ home and I was filled with ideas and an urge to recreate a piece I saw there that left a big impression. My mother and grandmother have always been incredibly supportive of my creative outlet – ever since they noticed (early on) that I found comfort and joy in drawing as a little child. There was always paper and pencils at hand, and always encouragement to explore. That quiet but consistent nurturing shaped much of who I am. The themes I explore are often born from a mix of present emotion and cherished memories – what I’m feeling in the moment I create, layered with subtle references to the classical world. I’ve always felt drawn to that era. To me, it represents both heritage and timelessness. With time, I’ve learned to be fully present, in the now, while still honoring the memories that I hold dear. That’s where my work comes from. That’s where I create from.
You mention transitioning from treating art as a ‘side dish’ to making it the ‘main course’ of your life. What prompted this shift, and how has it transformed your approach to creating art?
For me, drawing and painting have always been very personal forms of expression. I viewed them as a private space, a moment of pure self-expression, untouched by the outside world. However, the birth of our second daughter profoundly shifted my perspective. Her first year was challenging, both physically and emotionally, and it forced me to reassess what truly nourished my spirit: what inspired me, and what gave me the necessary energy. With two young children and little time to myself, I had to be honest about what mattered most. I decided to take extended parental leave, which allowed me the freedom to follow the growing urge to create. What happened next still surprises me. I began sharing small glimpses of my work on Instagram stories. And when the messages of support and encouragement started pouring in, I couldn’t help but wonder: What if I was meant to listen to my heart and truly follow this path? At that moment, I did what I would advise my own daughters to do: listen to your gut. I left my job as a project manager, immersed myself in painting, and transformed our attic into an atelier. Now, only 6 months later, I am amazed about this journey so far. The challenges of coming face-to-face with yourself, starting from ‘sketch’ and feeling vulnerable, but also how many inspiring people you meet, unexpected places you come, how much gratitude you feel when someone expresses a genuine connection to my work and chooses to bring it into their home. This experience has definitely changed my approach to creating. What once was a very private act of self-expression has blossomed into something shared with others: a beautiful, open exchange of energy and appreciation.
Classical art and sculptures are significant sources of inspiration for you. Can you share how these timeless elements influence your abstract creations and the process of blending them with contemporary expression?
I’m drawn to bold, expressive lines – they carry the raw emotion of the moment. It’s almost like the brush leads me across through the process as if it has a mind of its own – and it holds the energy of the moment. Before I start with the canvas, I immerse myself in the act of sketching. This is where the process begins: an exploration of memories and subjects I feel compelled to portray. This can either be elegant, static statues on pillars – but it can also be vibrant groups of people enjoying life to the fullest. I love both. Gradually, the sketches evolve – I strip away the excess, reducing the lines until they feel more in tune with the expressive energy of painting. This transformation allows the classical elements to blend with my present-day expression, a dialogue between past and present.
Your work emphasizes the importance of intuition and being present in the moment. How does this philosophy manifest in your creative process, and how do you balance it with the structured aspects of art-making?
For me, painting is about being completely immersed in that moment. It’s a space where all emotions are allowed (and welcomed) to surface, shaping the initial raw layers of color and texture. That unfiltered connection to the now is what makes the process so meaningful. Balancing this free-flowing creativity with the more structured aspects of art-making is something I’m still navigating. In my previous roles, I thrived on being organized, structured, and I was always very focused on prioritizing tasks. But now, when I create, I’m so deeply immersed in the moment that the concept of tasks or structure fades away. I’m trying to integrate this into my weekly routine – carving out time for pure creative expression, for dedicated commissions, for moments of social media engagement, and for the required administrative work. It’s a constant dance between freedom and structure. But when the urge to create strikes, it’s impossible to ignore – and I do think this is also the beauty of it.
Bridging the past and present is a recurring theme in your art. How do you navigate this interplay, and what messages or emotions do you aim to convey through this fusion?
For me, painting is a way to merge both memories and the present moment. I create with love, intention, and blend past experiences and current emotions. I’ve noticed that many people tend to either dwell on the past or excessively plan for the future. It can be challenging to find that fulfilling balance where you are carrying those memories with you while being immersed in the now, allowing both to enrich your experience of life.
Being a mother of two young daughters, how has motherhood influenced your artistic perspective and the subjects or emotions you choose to explore in your work?
I do feel more grounded since becoming a mother. It brought a clear sense of what truly matters and a deeper appreciation for the quiet essentials, and a new lens through which I reflect on my own childhood. The early inspirations from my youth resurface, alongside the natural, earthy tones I now reach for – since they carry a sense of calm and rootedness. This matches the grounded feeling I’ve been experiencing since becoming a mother and choosing – more than ever – to trust my gut.
Your art seems to resonate with themes of nostalgia and memory. Are there specific personal experiences or memories that have significantly impacted your artistic expression?
The urge to create came on strongly after a period of having so little energy or time – as a working mother of two young kids, that space for myself had been rare. Painting became a powerful outlet, almost cathartic. The bold, expressive brushstrokes felt instinctive, as if I was quite literally brushing it all off. In terms of subject matter, I’ve always been drawn to the classical era. That fascination has been with me for as long as I can remember – from childhood summers in Switzerland visiting exhibitions with my grandparents, to countless museum visits with my mother across the world, visiting Paris (the city of classical elegance!) with friends as often as I could. I chose art history in high school, worked at the Rijksmuseum during my studies – those influences have quietly but consistently shaped me. The elegance, timelessness, the quiet grandeur – they continue to inspire me. As for color, I instinctively return to grounded, natural tones – earthy neutrals and romantic shades like soft, dusty pink. The natural hues are emotionally charged for me; they bring me back to the sensory memory of waking up in my grandparents’ home, opening dark wooden shutters to see vineyards, mist-covered mountains, and the subtle palette of grey-blue, green, and warm browns. That palette, to me, is both nostalgic and grounding—an emotional landscape I return to through my work.
Looking ahead, are there new themes, mediums, or projects you’re excited to explore that align with your current artistic vision?
While painting is a passion of mine, drawing/sketching has always held a special place as well. I often treat sketches as the beginning of a piece – a first exploration. But I’m increasingly drawn to the idea of letting a sketch stand on its own, as a finished work in itself. I’d love to explore more opportunities in that direction, perhaps even in the world of illustration. There’s something incredibly honest and immediate about a drawing – its simplicity can be just as powerful as a fully developed painting.
How do you envision your work evolving in the future, and what legacy do you hope to build through your art?
I’m taking it one day at a time, following my gut and staying open to where it leads me. What I’ve found most beautiful in this journey is how often the unexpected turns out to be more rewarding than anything I could have planned. More than anything, I hope to pass that sense of freedom on to my daughters – the idea that having an outlet, a way to express your emotions and immerse yourself in something that’s yours, is incredibly powerful. It doesn’t need to be creative in the traditional sense. I just hope they find something they absolutely love – and feel brave enough to follow it. I can’t wait to be their biggest cheerleader.
Describe your art in three words. “Expressive, Timeless, Grounded.”
What is one piece of art (not your own) that you find endlessly inspiring?
I am obsessed with Au Bal by Édouard Manet (circa 1877). I saw it at The Courtauld last year and stood in front of it for what felt like ages. The way Manet captured this woman with such expressive, instinctive strokes, using grounded, earthy tones, is so powerful. Another work that continues to move me is The Kiss by Auguste Rodin. This marble sculpture of an embracing nude couple is not only technically masterful but also speaks to me emotionally. The way the bodies are intertwined speaks to something universal and timeless.
Morning routine: Coffee or tea, and what’s your go-to creative ritual to start the day?
Since becoming parents, my husband and I have made it a ritual (no exceptions allowed!) to begin each day together with the family in our bed. The kids sip their warm milk, while we drink our cappuccinos. It’s a lovely moment to share, an endorphin boost to start the day on a positive note. After breakfast & daycare drop off, we love to walk our dog to have some fresh air and talk about the day we’re going to have. Then, we both head upstairs to our separate spaces – my husband to his office in the attic, where he works remotely for an American company, and I go to my atelier. I’ll admit, I often interrupt his workday to ask for his opinion on something – which he loves.
If you could curate the perfect shelf, what objects would we find on it?
Books! I love Taschen’s beautifully curated art collections. My husband, on the other hand, has a passion for cooking and gathers books on every cuisine imaginable – so we have a lot of books around the house. Along with those, I also love vintage finds, ceramic vases & framed little drawings that my daughters made.
Credits:
Written by Kacey Perez | @the.house.studios
Photography by Bo Balsing | @bybobalsing
