After her graduation from high school, Sonja Keppler studied at Freie Kunstschule Stuttgart from 2009 to 2013. There she learned the basic artistic skills. From 2014 bis 2015 she absolved a pre-internship for the course Jewelry Design at Pforzheim university, in which she studied from from 2015 to 2020. Mostly she worked in the field of sculpture in the sculpture department of Pforzheim university leaded by Prof. Abraham David Christian. Since 2020 she studies Master of Design and Future Making at Pforzheim university. Her work is about preserving ancient culture and traditions and making them available for our time and future. @keppler_art
Where were you born and raised? How did it influence your art and your thinking about the world? I was born and raised in Pforzheim, Baden-Württemberg, Germany. I still live and work here today. My parents and grandparents had a few gardens, so I spent a lot of time outdoors and learned a lot about it. My great-aunt was a jewelry designer and collected many objects from different cultures, such as ritual objects, shadow puppets from Java, and African masks. This impressed and influenced me. I also spent many holidays with my parents, especially in Greece, which has influenced me to this day. I don't feel tied to one place, but rather a travel enthusiast.
Was there a particular moment in your childhood when you realized you weren’t just making things, but that you were becoming an artist? For you, what is the importance of the arts? I painted a lot as a child. Between the ages of about 7 and 14, I created numerous colored pencil drawings of mythical creatures. That was the beginning. It continued to develop, and I went through a long process of uncertainty, study, experimentation, and observation before I came to primarily create objects.
It was a gradual process toward becoming an artist. I did a lot of artistic work without even realizing that I was an artist. I only became aware of that much later.
For me, art is a universal language that connects cultures. It can be beautiful, it can also be strange and comical, or provocative. Art is versatile and surprising. But, to be honest, it can sometimes be frustrating when it doesn't work out the way you imagine.
What does your typical day in the studio look like? Walk us through your studio and your most used materials and tools.
Your work spans mushrooms, electroplating, paper pulp, bronze. How do your studio days unfold working with such diverse materials and processes? Well, there isn't necessarily a "typical" studio day. Every day is different, because I don't always work on the same types of objects. Sometimes it's electroplating work, which requires its own unique techniques; sometimes it's paper pulp works with electrical resistors and capacitors; sometimes it's clay works; and sometimes mushrooms get active with different materials. It's very diverse. I want to work on things that people aren't necessarily familiar with.
You mentioned a fascination with transformation and organic growth. What are some materials or ideas you’re currently experimenting with, and where are they taking your work? My work is very diverse and can be interpreted on many different levels. I work at the interface between people, nature, and technology, and I also blend these areas. As I mentioned, I often work on one type of group of works and then on another that belongs to another. And then I invent something new that I want to develop further. I'm constantly expanding my repertoire. Soon, I plan to develop bronze works. A very classic material that I love very much.
A few aspects are important to me in my artistic practice: I work with organic growth, which means I explore natural and artificial growth processes, such as electroplating or fungal cultures, where the form cannot be fully controlled. Materiality and structure are also important. I work with a wide variety of materials and value tactile and visually interesting surfaces. Transience and transformation are inspiring for me. My works reflect processes of becoming and passing away and are inspired by Japanese wabi-sabi and archaic symbolism.
My intuition guides me, and I don't work strictly conceptually or entirely to measure, but rather allow myself to be guided by the material and its reaction – in dialogue with the form.
Much of your work invites a quiet kind of attention—through touch, scent, or subtle visual cues. What kinds of responses do you hope your sculptures evoke in viewers? I hope that people will be touched and remember my work. The smoke sculptures, for example, are interactive because herbs or resins are burned inside. This means that you can also experience them olfactorily. This touches people in a deeper way. The objects are intended to have a connecting and inspiring effect on people.
I guess my art touches people in a quiet yet haunting way. They should feel invited to pause and observe the delicate, often fragile structures—like traces of time, nature, or memory. Many experience a quiet awe when they sense that something living continues to work in my works—not as an image, but as the energy of becoming.
Some are reminded by the archaic symbolism of something primal—of myths, of the earth, of organic processes that are intangible but palpable. Others may experience my works as poetic, almost comforting, precisely because they allow for imperfection. In my opinion, they are calm, grounded works.
Which artists, living or historica, would you like to meet? I've already met several interesting sculptors, like Peter Jacobi, who lives not far from my hometown, and Jürgen Goertz, whose many fascinating sculptures can be found in numerous cities. Who would I like to meet? I would love to meet artist couples with whom I've been very interested: Jean Tinguely and Niki de Saint Phalle, or Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera. They are fascinating individuals to me. As a living artist, I would love to meet Tony Cragg in person. I'm fascinated by artists and people who have a lot of life experience and can tell stories.
Your work draws deeply on cultural memory, folk objects, and ritual—but you resist direct imitation. How do you navigate your inspirations from other disciplines or traditions while remaining true to your own intuitive visual language? I'm undoubtedly inspired by folk art; that's obvious. However, I don't try to copy or imitate, and when it comes to design, I'm guided solely by intuition. I don't want to copy from others. At most, I look at techniques and materials and consider how I can incorporate them into my work in my own way.
I listen to a lot of music, including when working in the studio. I wouldn't say, however, that I'm directly inspired by it. I like listening to classical or early music, like the Ensemble L’Arpeggiata or the Capella de la Torre. I'm a fan of that, and I like the emotional appeal. I also really enjoy listening to Greek music from various sources. Perhaps all of this will be reflected in my work, and the music will be woven into it.
Pforzheim might not be seen as a cultural capital, but it’s clearly been an anchor for your practice. What are some overlooked or unexpected resources there that have supported your development as an artist? A great thing about living in my city/town is that I have access to various companies and workshops. Pforzheim was shaped by the jewelry industry, and therefore numerous metalworking businesses are still located there. I also still have contact with the University of Art and Design, and sometimes I can still do some work in the workshops there. My hometown isn't generally considered a beautiful city. But I personally always find beautiful corners and great places. For me, it's a good place to live and work.
Can you tell us about a piece that tested your patience or pushed your technical limits—like your Woman in Resistance sculpture? How did you stay with it when things fell apart? There's an object called "Woman in Resistance." It drove me crazy. It's 50 cm high and about 45 cm wide. That's quite large for an object that had to be worked on while wet, and with many small electrical resistors and capacitors. It was half-finished when I ran into problems with the statics. It slipped off my workbench and fell to the floor. It was pretty damaged, and I had to remove the wet material, clean all the small parts, and re-sort them. Afterward, the object had to be repaired, and then I started again with the various layers. Fortunately, the result was still satisfying. If you want to see results, you have to do the work. And sometimes, you have to do it again.
Tell us about important mentors in your life.
The now retired professor of sculpture at the Academy of Art and Design was a committed and inspiring mentor to me. He always encouraged me to keep working. It wasn't easy for me, as I'm the daughter of a tax official who values financial security, if you know what I mean. I always had doubts. That's why my path into art was delayed, as I took a detour via a jewelry degree. But that's how I ended up in Abraham David Christian's sculpture department. He talked about Japan, and his artistic approach influenced me. He also organized my first exhibitions, including at the Aurich Art Association, where even Markus Lüpertz and other big names exhibited. So I had the privilege of being introduced to the art world.
You’ve spoken about using found, organic, or even perishable materials—and letting weather, growth, or erosion play a role. How does this co-creation with the natural world shape your understanding of sustainability in art? Absolutely! I work with nature, for example, using natural materials or incorporating the growth of mushrooms into my work. I also incorporate rain, for example, when I place copper objects outside to let nature work on them. My works emerge in dialogue with nature—not as an imitation, but as a co-creation. I observe organic processes such as growth, erosion, and transformation. In doing so, I allow materials to react rather than dominate them. For me, nature is not a backdrop, but an actor.
Sustainability is not a concept I apply externally, but rather an internal compass: I work with found, recycled, or perishable materials, or use what is already there.
Every object is a fragment of time, shaped by hand, chance, and the elements. Within it, questions about life after death, transience, and what remains resonate long afterward.
As someone working at the intersection of old techniques and future-making, how do you view the role of artificial intelligence in creative practice? What continues to feel vital about human touch in an increasingly digital age? I don't reject modern techniques. I work with them myself on a theoretical basis. However, my practical work wasn't concerned. Here, I value individual craftsmanship, the act of doing, which is what defines people and is incredibly satisfying. It's a unique form of expression. Human art and handcrafted creative works carry a deep, personal meaning that goes far beyond the object itself. They reflect individuality, the creative journey, and the dialogue between artist and material. Every handcrafted piece bears the traces of the artist's hand, be it through the choice of material, the creation process, or subtle imperfection. It is precisely this imperfection that fascinates me.
Handcrafted works of art provide direct access to the artistic process and offer the viewer an authentic experience. They bring with them responsibility and mindfulness. They remind us that art is not just consumption, but connection—between the artist, the work, and the viewer.
Exploring ideas, art and the creative process connects me to…on the one hand with myself, but on the other hand also with other people.
