Ladri Di Patta

Interview by Liesje Verhave | Photography by Tengbeh KamaraFor Faria van Creij-Callender, painting is more extensive than just image-making. It’s a method of navigating identity, space, and belonging. Drawing from personal memory, family archives, art historical references, and recent experiences in Suriname, the Dutch-Surinamese artist creates dreamlike worlds that sit between reality and imagination.Her paintings explore what it means to exist between cultures without the need to choose one over another. Figures emerge from layered compositions that blend observation, memory, and fiction. Reflecting a lived experience that is deeply personal and widely relatable. Whether exhibiting in museums, developing new bodies of work inspired by travel, or preparing for major art fairs, van Creij-Callender continues to build works with a visual language rooted in nuance, curiosity, and self-discovery.Following her recent solo exhibition at Lang Gallery and being exhibited at the Dordrechts Museum for winning the Scheffer Kunstprijs 2026, we caught up with the artist to discuss representation, Surinamese identity, painting practices, and the creative impact of her first visit to Suriname.How did you first get into painting?My mother was a painter, so art was always accessible to me. There was always paint around the house, so making things felt very natural. But that being said,  I never planned on becoming an artist. I first studied several different subjects at university before realising that art history was what interested me most. At some point, I realised: I don't just want to study art, I want to contribute to it. Through trying different things that didn't quite fit, I realised that everything I felt passionate about could be expressed through painting.I studied illustration before moving into fine arts at KABK, and once I got there, I never really questioned it again. It felt like the right path.Your work is currently being shown at the Dordrechts Museum as part of De Scheffer Kunstprijs. How does it feel to see your paintings in a museum setting?It's incredibly special. It was the first time my work had ever been shown in a museum.There is always this balancing act of how people perceive your work. You don’t want to be seen only as a Black artist. For me, being Black and Surinamese is where the work starts, but there are many other aspects to my identity. My family comes from many different places, and there are many layers to who I am.Seeing my work in a museum felt like a meaningful step forward. Simply having that presence as a Surinamese artist in that space already means a lot.Has recognition changed your confidence as an artist?Recognition is always nice. After graduating from KABK, there was a real question about whether I could continue my practice full-time or if I would need another job.A few months later, I was very fortunate and received the Royal Award for Modern Painting in 2025, which gave me both recognition and practical support. It helped me pay for studio rent and materials. But the most important validation comes from the work itself. Every time I finish a painting, I feel a sense of peace. It reminds me that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.Many of your paintings embrace multiple identities rather than choosing between them. Why is that important to you?Growing up, I often felt like I had to choose between different sides of myself. My mother is from Brabant and my father's family is Surinamese. There was always this feeling of being asked to identify with one side or the other.But that wasn't my reality. I've always felt like I existed somewhere in between. When I was studying, I found inspiration in Black American artists and saw parts of myself reflected there. But I still wanted to express something more specific to my own experience. I couldn't really find images that reflected that feeling of existing between cultures, so I decided to create them myself.Your work often exists somewhere between reality and imagination. How do your characters come to life?It happens in many different ways. This year, I visited Suriname for the first time and took hundreds of photographs. Many recent paintings are based on those images and the people I encountered there. Other works begin with art history. I'll look at Renaissance paintings or 18th- and 19th-century works and borrow elements like compositions, poses, or gestures. I also use family archives, old photographs, objects from daily life, and references from my own surroundings.Then I start cutting, combining, and pasting everything together until it becomes a world of its own. All those references merge into a world that feels grounded in reality but also dreamlike. It’s important to me that I recognise something from my own life within the work, but also that I recognise my community and people who look like me. You mentioned that aspects of yourself appear throughout your paintings. What role does self-portraiture play in your work?Whenever you paint faces long enough, they eventually start looking a little bit like you.For me, it begins with wanting to recognise myself in the work. Sometimes I use my own features as references because it's practical. If I need to understand how an eye tilts or how light falls across a face, I can simply photograph myself. But I don't necessarily want every painting to be a portrait of me. I use myself as a starting point, then move away from it.You recently visited Suriname for the first time. How did that experience affect your work?It had a huge impact.I took so many photographs and filled sketchbooks with ideas. I wasn't painting while I was there because I wanted to fully experience the moment, but I was constantly drawing and collecting references. Being in Suriname for the first time made that process even more meaningful. I wanted to capture the atmosphere, the colours, the air, the feeling of being there as quickly as possible so I could hold onto that experience for longer.When I returned to the Netherlands, all of those experiences immediately became paintings.Would you describe yourself as a nostalgic person?I’m definitely a nostalgic person. Memory enters my work in different ways. Sometimes I'll experience something and feel an immediate urge to paint it. I'll come back to the studio and want to begin as soon as possible.Other times, a memory takes much longer to reveal its importance. Some moments only become meaningful years later, and then I suddenly feel the need to return to them through painting. Because I work with so many references and images, memories often become layered. Sometimes a memory isn't complete on its own and needs other references to help build the image. Different memories move at different speeds.For example, one of the paintings behind me was inspired by my girlfriend in the Surinamese jungle. I remember taking the photograph and immediately wanting to return to the studio and paint it. There was a sense of urgency to that work. At the same time, another painting contains two figures in the distance who appear to be sharing their first kiss. That image was also inspired by a moment in Suriname, but it developed much more slowly. It required many different elements to come together before it felt complete.So memory exists at different paces within the work. Some moments arrive immediately, while others take years to fully form.What does a typical day in the studio look like?I usually start with a run in the morning and then head straight to the studio.I work with oil paint, so planning is important. Each layer needs time to dry, which means I usually have three paintings in progress at the same time.What part of the painting process do you enjoy most?The third layer.The first layer is about structure. The second introduces colour. But it's the next stage where the painting really starts revealing itself. That's the moment I love most because I can finally see whether the image is becoming what I imagined. It's the point where the painting begins to tell me where it's going. It's not finished yet, but suddenly I understand its direction.Your recent solo exhibition at Lang Gallery was inspired by your trip to Suriname. What did that show represent for you?It represented a very immediate response to the experience.I returned from Suriname with so many ideas and was able to translate them into paintings almost immediately. Then, shortly after finishing them, I was able to show them to an audience.That felt incredibly rewarding. The opening also incorporated Surinamese food, which made the exhibition feel multi-layered and communal. It became a broader celebration of the experience and the culture that had inspired them. Where do you usually find inspiration?Travel definitely helps, but it's not my only source.I spend a lot of time looking at historical paintings and visiting exhibitions. I'm particularly interested in how artists capture light, posture, and atmosphere. Running is also surprisingly important. That's often when ideas come together. Things that feel complicated in the studio suddenly become clear when I'm moving. My girlfriend and I always try to run together, wherever we are. We even kept running while we were in Suriname, although doing that in 32-degree heat was definitely intense. It was very sweaty, but we still did it.Running has become such an important part of my routine that I take it with me wherever I go.What's next for you?The main focus right now is preparing new work for Unfair Amsterdam. I'm also working towards several upcoming exhibitions that I can't fully announce yet, but they're very exciting. For now, I'm concentrating on making the strongest work possible and continuing to build on everything I've learned over the past year.Faria van Creij-Callender's work is currently on view through the Dordrechts Museum Kunstprijs exhibition, and will show a new set of works at Unfair Amsterdam later this year. Visit her work in person as she continues to explore identity, memory, and belonging through vibrant paintings that bridge personal experience and collective histories.

To honour this year's Keti Koti, we partnered with Surinamese punk band Mutha Flac to create a music video that celebrates the spirit of self-expression, resistance and cultural pride. Punk has always been a vehicle for challenging norms and reclaiming space and Mutha Flac embodies that energy through a distinctly Surinamese lens.This is a tribute to the generations who fought for freedom and to those who continue to define what independence means today. Because independence is not only about looking back at where we came from, it is about amplifying the voices that are shaping where we are going.

Interview by Passion Dzenga | Photography by Britt Haanstra For Amazone, music has never been just about songs. It is about identity, belonging, and creating space where none existed before. Drawing from her Surinamese roots while growing up between cultures in the Netherlands, the singer-songwriter has built a sound that fuses contemporary Afro, R&B and house influences with traditional Surinamese rhythms and percussion. The result is music that feels both deeply personal and globally minded.Her 2025 EP Who Is She? explored questions of identity and self-discovery, while breakout tracks like Sa na San and collaborations with artists such as Jarreau Vandal have introduced her to audiences far beyond the Netherlands. At the same time, she's extending her vision beyond music through initiatives like Bloodline Sessions and the debut of her all-female live band, creating platforms for cultural exchange, community building, and female empowerment.Ahead of her performance on the Keti Koti main stage and the release of new music, we caught up with Amazone to discuss cultural identity, songwriting, Surinamese heritage, and why she's determined to take traditional sounds to a global audience.Your 2025 EP is titled Who Is She? Let's start there. Who is Amazone today?She’s fearless, curious, and always evolving. I love music in all its forms, and I’m inspired by a wide range of genres. One thing I discovered when I started making music is how much I come alive on stage. Performing brings out a side of me that feels natural and powerful. Music has taught me to embrace every part of myself and turn vulnerability into strength. She’s someone who’s still discovering herself, but fully owning every version of who she is.You grew up between cultures. When did you realise that being between worlds could actually be a strength?That took time. There were moments when I felt like I didn't fully belong anywhere. People underestimate how complicated it can be growing up with multiple cultural identities. Sometimes you're told you're too Dutch for one side and too Surinamese for the other. You start wondering where exactly you fit. Eventually, I realised that I didn't need to choose. I could create my own space and define my own identity. That's something that's become very important to me, especially for other mixed-race kids who might be struggling with similar questions.Your Surinamese roots are central to your work. What aspects of the culture do you feel most connected to right now?The percussion. Whenever I attended events where Surinamese bands were performing, something happened inside me. My body would just start moving. At some point, I realised how much I loved those traditional rhythms and percussion patterns. They carry so much history and energy. I'm also becoming increasingly interested in traditional dances like Awasa and Banamba. That's something I'm actively exploring and celebrating through Bloodline Sessions as well.One of the tracks that introduced many people to your music was your collaboration with Jarreau Vandal. How did that relationship come about?I’ve known him from his experimental background with different influences and sounds, so I felt like it would be a good match creatively. The rest after that small section is great. One day I simply reached out to him. I sent the message, we got into the studio, and the first session produced the song that eventually got released. Sometimes timing is everything. It doesn't happen often that the very first studio session leads directly to a finished record, but that's exactly what happened.Traditional percussion plays such a big role in your music. How does a song usually begin for you?It usually starts with a feeling. I'll hear something that inspires me and then begin building from there. A big part of my process has involved collaborating with people who are deeply rooted in traditional percussion. A good friend of mine, Fantison Araby, has been incredibly important in that journey. He's a true kawina specialist and helped shape many of the rhythmic foundations throughout my EP. For me it's less about playing every instrument myself and more about bringing the right people together around my vision.So you're more of an orchestrator than a multi-instrumentalist?Exactly. I can play some piano and percussion, but I prefer letting people focus on what they do best. I know my strengths are songwriting, performance, storytelling, and creating a vision. Then I bring in talented musicians who can help elevate those ideas. That collaboration is really important to me.Have you always been writing songs?Pretty much. I remember lying in bed when I was around nine or ten years old, recording little melodies into my Nokia phone and writing lyrics. At the time, I thought they were amazing. Looking back, they're probably terrible, but the impulse was already there. I always loved creating songs and building little worlds through music.Your music blends Afro influences, house, R&B and traditional Surinamese sounds. Where does that combination come from?I make music that makes me want to dance. Whenever I'm at a party or club, I'm constantly discovering new sounds. I'm usually the person recording snippets into my phone because I want to remember what inspired me. Those references eventually find their way into the studio. I love contemporary sounds, but I also want to hear Surinamese rhythms living inside them. That's where the excitement comes from.You've described yourself as a musical explorer. What currently excites you creatively?I feel like I'm only scratching the surface of what can be done with kawina and traditional Surinamese rhythms. Artists like FS Green and Jarreau Vandal have already introduced these sounds to wider audiences from a DJ perspective. What excites me is exploring what happens when those rhythms become the foundation for songwriting and vocal music. I haven't seen many female artists doing that yet. I want to keep pushing further and see how far these sounds can travel.I want to make more noise in the emerging space of “island pop” and continue exploring how I can bring my culture into that. I feel like I’m only scratching the surface of what’s possible with kawina and traditional Surinamese rhythms. Artists like FS Green and Jarreau Vandal have already helped introduce these sounds to wider audiences from a DJ and production perspective. What excites me is taking those same influences and building songs around them, making them the foundation for songwriting and vocal-driven music. I haven’t seen many female artists doing that yet. I want to keep pushing that boundary and see how far these sounds can travel.Sa Na San became a huge success and even reached number one in Suriname. What was that experience like?It was surreal. I was in Suriname during Christmas and New Year's and I remember standing at a petrol station with my father. Suddenly, people started driving by singing the song. My dad had already been hearing it on the radio, but seeing strangers sing it in public was something completely different. To experience that kind of connection thousands of kilometres away from where I live was was amazing.. It's one of those moments you never forget.Your music feels joyful, but also deeply grounded. How do you stay centred as your profile continues to grow?Faith is a huge part of that. I genuinely believe there's something greater than us. I don't think we're the highest authority in the universe. I'm ambitious, but I also believe that if something has been placed inside you, it will eventually find its way into the world. That doesn't mean you stop working. You still have to stay disciplined and patient. But faith helps me trust the process.You're preparing to debut an all-female band at Keti Koti. Why was that important to you?One day I just thought: Amazone needs a female band. The easy option would have been working with whoever was already available, and often that means male musicians because there are simply more of them. But I wanted to create something intentional. It took time to find the right people and build the group, but now that it's finally happening, I'm incredibly proud that I stayed committed to the idea. It feels completely aligned with everything I stand for.Tell us about Bloodline Sessions.Bloodline Sessions started very organically. I filmed a dance class with a friend who teaches Awasa, and the video unexpectedly went viral. After that, I realised there was a real need for spaces where people—especially younger people—could reconnect with their roots without feeling intimidated. What started as dance classes has now expanded into jam sessions, cultural programming, and community-building events. The goal is simple: create spaces where culture can be celebrated, shared, and passed on.What role does community play in your work?A huge one. Creating a community around your art is one of the biggest blessings. Music is important, but I also want to create spaces where people can connect with each other. Whether that's through dance, live performance, workshops, or jam sessions, it's all part of the same vision. Culture survives through participation.Looking ahead, what's next?A lot of music. I recently filmed a music video in Suriname for the first single "Defibrillator" from my upcoming album. That's a huge step for me because it's the beginning of a much larger body of work. The album is really about defining the world I'm building musically and taking everything I've learned over the past few years to another level. I'm very excited about it.Finally, what advice would you give to a young Surinamese girl who wants to follow a similar path?Just do it. You can spend years overthinking things, but eventually you have to take the first step. Find people who believe in you. Build a team around yourself. Create opportunities if they don't already exist. Most importantly, believe in yourself. You can achieve far more than you think.Check out Amazone's new single Debrillator, out now on all platforms! 

On July 1st, we celebrate Keti Koti, and we would be incredibly happy if you could join us. We would like to invite you to an evening at the long table at Homelanding: a special 4-course dinner created by Lenny (Hotel de Goudfazant) and LissKitchen. We have lovingly curated this menu as an ode to our Surinamese cuisine, translated into a haute cuisine experience. Includes wine pairing by Troppo Giovane, live music, and DJs. This will be an evening to celebrate, eat, and connect together. Reserve your seat at the table below via this link.

OFFSHORE SESSIONS is a music platform curated by Azzi On The Beat that brings together DJs, producers, and sound artists from different musical backgrounds to explore new sonic conversations in unique locations. Set outside traditional venues, each session creates a space where diverse genres, cultures, and creative approaches meet through live performance and collaboration. For this edition, Azzi On The Beat goes back-to-back with WearAreAllChemicals on the Lagos waterfront, blending electronic experimentation, percussion-driven rhythms, underground club sounds, and influences from African street culture. Recorded on a small boat overlooking the city, the session captures a moment of connection between artists, environment, and sound. OFFSHORE SESSIONS is a performance series and an ongoing exploration of music without borders.

Interview by Passion Dzenga | Photography by Violette EsmeraldaWhen Essa Främbs first stepped into a kickboxing gym at the age of twenty, she wasn't chasing titles or dreaming of championship belts. What she was looking for was something much simpler: strength. Growing up, she never considered herself particularly athletic. She describes herself as skinny, physically insecure and uncertain about what her body was capable of. Yet one training session was enough to spark an obsession that would eventually take her across the world to Thailand, into competitive Muay Thai and onto a path that fundamentally reshaped how she viewed herself.Today, Essa balances life as an athlete, coach, wife and mother while continuing to pursue her ambitions inside the ring. Along the way, martial arts has taught her lessons that extend far beyond fighting, about confidence, patience, humility and the importance of finding the right community. We sat down with Essa to discuss training in Thailand, overcoming self-doubt, motherhood, competition and why true strength often has very little to do with violence.What has martial arts taught you about yourself?More than anything, it's taught me confidence, but not in the way people usually think. Before I started training, I wasn't somebody who felt particularly strong. I wasn't athletic growing up, and I definitely didn't think of myself as someone who would one day step into a ring and compete. A lot of my confidence came from other places, but not from my physical abilities.What martial arts taught me was that confidence isn't something you're born with. It's something you build. Every time you show up to training, every time you fail at something, every time you look foolish trying to learn a new technique and come back anyway, you're slowly building evidence that you're capable of more than you thought.When you're a beginner, everything feels awkward. You look around and everybody else seems better than you. If I look back at old videos of myself, I can see how uncomfortable I was. My movements weren't smooth, my technique wasn't good, and half the time I had no idea what I was doing. But the beautiful thing about martial arts is that nobody expects you to be good immediately. The only expectation is that you keep showing up.Over time, I realised that confidence comes from repetition. It comes from proving to yourself, again and again, that you're willing to keep going even when something is difficult. That's a lesson I've taken into every part of my life. Whether it's training, family, work or competition, I know that progress isn't instant. You just keep showing up and eventually things begin to change.Many people assume combat sports are aggressive environments. What was your first impression of the gym?That assumption is exactly what I expected to encounter. A lot of people imagine fighting gyms as intimidating places filled with aggressive people. I went in with no expectations at all and was actually surprised by how welcoming everyone was. The atmosphere was incredibly supportive. People wanted to help each other improve. More experienced athletes were willing to teach beginners. Coaches were patient. There was a genuine sense of respect throughout the gym.That became one of the biggest reasons I stayed. Martial arts attracts people for many different reasons. Some people come from difficult backgrounds. Some are trying to avoid destructive habits. Some are looking for discipline or direction. But what I found was a community of people genuinely trying to become better versions of themselves. That was beautiful to witness. And it taught me very early on that fighting and aggression are not the same thing.You spent almost nine months training in Thailand. What did that experience give you beyond fighting?Thailand changed me in ways that had very little to do with fighting. Of course, from a technical perspective, I improved enormously. You're training twice a day, six days a week. Everything revolves around Muay Thai. You're surrounded by people who have dedicated their lives to the sport, so naturally, you absorb a huge amount of knowledge in a very short period of time.But the bigger lessons happened outside the gym. For the first time in my life, I was completely responsible for myself. I had to organise where I lived, how I got around, what I ate and how I managed my daily life. There was nobody to solve problems for me. If something went wrong, I had to figure it out. That teaches you independence very quickly.What surprised me most, though, was the sense of community. Before going there, I thought I was travelling to improve as a fighter. What I didn't expect was how much I would learn from the people around me. My coach, Samsak, had a huge impact on me. He wasn't just interested in making people better fighters. He cared about people. He wanted to know if you were okay, if you were eating properly, if you needed help with something outside training.There were days when we'd train together, go to the beach together, have dinner together and spend hours talking. It felt less like a gym and more like a family. I remember thinking that these people barely knew me, yet they were treating me with so much kindness and generosity. That changed my understanding of what strength looks like. Before then, I probably associated strength with toughness. Thailand taught me that some of the strongest people are also the most caring.Becoming a mother seems to have changed your relationship with the sport. How did you navigate that?Honestly, becoming a mother was one of the most challenging periods of my life, not because of my son, but because of all the questions I suddenly started asking myself.Before that, my identity felt relatively straightforward. I was an athlete. I was training, competing and chasing goals. Then I became a wife and a mother within a relatively short period of time and suddenly I found myself wondering who I was supposed to be now.I remember thinking: Is this still appropriate? Should I still be fighting? Should I be focusing on other things? Should I be more feminine? More traditional? More focused on family? None of those thoughts came from anybody around me. They came from me.My husband was supportive. My family was supportive. My in-laws were supportive. Nobody was telling me to stop. In fact, they were encouraging me to continue. But I had built these expectations in my own mind about what a mother should look like, and I was struggling to reconcile those expectations with the person I already was. It took time to realise that the only person judging me was myself.Once I understood that, something shifted. I stopped trying to fit into an idea of motherhood that didn't belong to me. I realised I could be a mother and an athlete. I could be a wife and still chase ambitious goals. Those things weren't in conflict with each other.Now my husband brings my son to training. They sit together while I work. Sometimes my son copies my coach and pretends he's holding pads. It's become part of our family life. Looking back, I think motherhood didn't take anything away from me. It actually gave me a new reason to keep going.There was also a deeply personal experience that pushed you further into martial arts.There was. When I was younger, I experienced something that left me feeling powerless and vulnerable. I won't go into every detail, but it affected me deeply. At the time, I carried a lot of anger. I remember asking my coach if I could work as a cleaner in the gym so I could have access to the space outside training hours. He said yes. So I would clean and then stay behind for hours training by myself. I'd hit the heavy bag, film myself, watch the footage back, analyse every mistake and start again. Over and over. Looking back, that period shaped me enormously. At the time, I was trying to process pain. What I didn't realise was that I was also building discipline. And that discipline eventually became something much healthier than angerCombat sports remain heavily male-dominated. What's your experience been like as a woman in that environment?Overall, I've been fortunate. Most of the gyms I've trained in have been respectful environments. But I do think women need to be careful and trust their instincts. There are fantastic gyms full of good people, and there are places where boundaries aren't respected. If something feels wrong, leave. You don't owe anyone your loyalty if they're making you uncomfortable. At the same time, I think visibility matters. The more women participate, coach, compete and lead, the more normal it becomes. I've never wanted special treatment. I've always wanted equal respect. That's something I've generally been lucky enough to receive.What advice would you give somebody who's curious about Muay Thai but doesn't know where to start?Start. That's the most important thing. Go to a class. Try it. See how it feels. And if the first gym doesn't feel right, try another one. Finding the right environment matters just as much as finding the right sport. The gym that changed my life wasn't the first one I walked into. The same thing happened in Thailand. I visited multiple gyms before finding the place that felt like home. Don't give up because one experience wasn't right. Keep looking. Eventually, you'll find your people. And once you find your people, everything becomes easier.Essa would like to thank the team at Boni Gym, her former coach Samsak and everyone at Phuket Top Team for their support and guidance throughout her journey. She also credits her husband, family and training community for helping her continue pursuing her goals as both an athlete and a mother. 

We will host a showroom get-together, presenting a Patta x Dana Lixenberg’s American Images T-shirt and an exclusive preview of the Patta x Marcus Elizabeth Saffron Attitude fragrance and scented candle available in limited quantities. Join us on Tuesday, June 23rd, from 18:00 to 20:00 at the Patta Showroom, 10 Rue Saint-Gilles, Paris.Spanning more than three decades, the exhibition “American Images” offers the first comprehensive overview of the work of photographer Dana Lixenberg. Drawing on key series made in the United States, it presents a nuanced and deeply human portrayal of American life. Across social and geographic contexts, her work unfolds in carefully composed images that resist stereotypes and simplification.  First presented this year at the MEP in Paris, the exhibition will travel to Barcelona, Madrid, Berlin and Frankfurt.Marcus Elizabeth creates bold fragrances and timeless lifestyle artefacts. Rooted in artisanal tradition and carried by Afro-Atlantic essence, the brand moves between structure and warmth, precision and atmosphere. This collaboration with Patta unites Marcus Elizabeth’s world of scent with Patta’s cultural voice, resulting in a bold sensory expression made for this moment: Saffron Attitude, a new fragrance shaped by saffron, confidence and presence.

Words: Passion Dzenga | Photography: Andrea AmponsahVicky R is wearing the Patta Peace Canvas Hooded Jacket. Born in Gabon and raised between Libreville and Lille, Vicky R has spent more than a decade carving out her own path. Long before becoming one of the most recognisable voices to emerge from Gabon's contemporary music scene, she was a curious teenager teaching herself FL Studio, sending beats to artists she admired and building connections across continents from her bedroom.Over the years, that determination has carried her through multiple reinventions. First as a producer, then as a rapper, and now as an artist whose work extends beyond music into advocacy, cultural exchange and creating opportunities for the next generation of Gabonese creatives. Whether collaborating with legends such as MC Solaar, breaking through in France via La Relève, or working with institutions to strengthen artist rights in Gabon, Vicky has consistently followed her own instincts rather than industry expectations.Ahead of the release of her new project Latitude Zéro, we spoke with Vicky about migration, identity, self-belief, artistic growth and why she's always preferred creating opportunities to waiting for them.Vicky R is wearing Patta Embro Classic Zip Up Hooded Sweater. You were born in Gabon before moving to Lille at a young age. What do you remember most about that transition?It was very complicated at first because I was still very young. My sister was already living in Lille and my parents travelled a lot for work, so there had always been a connection between Gabon and France. We regularly spent time in France during holidays because my father, who was in the military, spent several years studying in Paris.But when I was around eleven years old, I genuinely thought I was only going to France for the summer. I remember reaching the end of the holidays and asking my mother when we were going back to Gabon because school was about to start. That's when she told me I wasn't going back.I was completely shocked. At that age, all I could think about were my friends, my family and the life I was leaving behind. I didn't understand the decision. It felt like everything had changed overnight.As I got older, though, I began to understand my parents' perspective. They wanted me to have opportunities they felt I couldn't access in the same way back home. They wanted me to experience different cultures, meet different people and build a future with more possibilities available to me. At the time it felt difficult. Today I understand it was an act of love.Even after moving to France, you've always maintained a strong connection to Gabon. How important has that been to your identity?It's essential. I've lived in France for many years now, but Gabon is still home. It's where I was born, where my family is, where many of my earliest memories come from and where my relationship with music really began.What's interesting is that I never felt like moving meant leaving one place behind entirely. I've always existed between both worlds. France gave me opportunities and helped shape me into the person I am today, but Gabon gave me my foundation. That dual identity has influenced everything I've done creatively.Even now, when I'm working on projects or thinking about the future, I naturally find myself asking how I can create stronger connections between the two places. That's something that has become increasingly important to me.Music runs through your family. What were some of your earliest musical influences?There was music everywhere in our house. My mother listened to a lot of gospel music, so I grew up hearing choirs and vocal harmonies all the time. My siblings were more interested in R&B and rap, so I was exposed to artists like Brandy, Timbaland and a lot of French rap very early on.I also spent a lot of time in church. Every Sunday I was singing in the choir. Looking back, I think all of those influences blended together naturally. The gospel taught me about emotion and vocals. Rap introduced me to storytelling. African music connected me to my culture. At the time I wasn't analysing any of it. I was simply absorbing everything around me.Before becoming known as a rapper, you were actually making beats. How did that journey begin?Completely by accident. A friend of my sister invited me to a studio session when I was around twelve years old. It wasn't my first time in a studio, but it was the first time I really paid attention to what was happening. I remember seeing someone making music on a computer and becoming fascinated. I asked what software they were using and they told me it was FL Studio 7. I wanted it immediately.They gave me a copy on a USB stick and when I got home I installed it on my computer. My cousins taught me a few basics, but after that I was mostly teaching myself through YouTube videos and experimentation.I became obsessed. I would spend hours figuring things out, making mistakes, starting again and gradually learning how everything worked. I didn't realise it at the time, but those years taught me independence. Nobody was telling me what to do. If I wanted to learn something, I had to figure it out myself.Vicky R is wearing the Patta Loopback Logo Zip Hooded Sweater.You've often spoken about your willingness to reach out to people. Was that already part of your personality back then?Absolutely. Even as a teenager, I understood that nobody was going to discover me if I kept everything to myself. I started finding artists from Gabon online and sending them messages directly. I would introduce myself, tell them I was making beats and ask if I could send them some music. Sometimes people replied. Sometimes they didn't. But I never spent too much time worrying about rejection.That's still how I operate today. If I want to work with someone, I send a message. I don't spend time wondering whether they'll respond or whether I'm important enough. The worst thing that can happen is they don't answer.I've always believed that creating opportunities is better than waiting for them. That mindset led to one of the most remarkable stories from your early career. It really did. A couple of years after moving to France, I returned to Gabon for a holiday. During a concert, someone recognised me as the young producer who had been sending beats to artists online.A few days later, they showed up at my family's house with a camera crew from Gabon's national television station. Suddenly, I was giving interviews, explaining how I made beats and demonstrating my process on camera. I remember thinking it was completely surreal. That broadcast introduced a lot of people in Gabon to my work and helped establish my name before I'd even released much music myself.It's funny looking back because I was just a kid making beats in my bedroom. I never imagined people were paying attention.Eventually, you transitioned from producing to rapping yourself. What sparked that change?I had always been writing. Even while producing, I was writing lyrics and experimenting creatively. When I met my longtime producer, he already knew I was writing but had never really heard me rap properly. One day he encouraged me to try recording something and we started working on songs together.The reaction surprised me. People seemed genuinely interested in hearing my voice and my perspective. That gave me confidence to take it more seriously. The first release was well received, but it was really Lego that changed everything. The story behind Lego has become almost legendary. It's one of those stories that only makes sense looking back. I originally recorded the song while I was in Gabon visiting my father. Everything seemed fine, but after I returned to France the studio contacted me and told me they'd lost my vocals. The entire recording was gone. So I had to re-record the song from scratch.At the same time, somebody else ended up using the original instrumental and releasing music over it, which created a lot of confusion. We eventually had to make changes to the production to clarify everything.Then suddenly people started messaging me. Every week someone would tell me they had heard the song somewhere else. A club. A party. A radio station. When I returned to Gabon, it felt like the song was everywhere. Even today, years later, people still play it. That's something I'm incredibly grateful for because songs rarely have that kind of lifespan. After Lego, many artists would simply repeat the formula. Vicky R is wearing the Patta Hearted Jumper. You chose a different path. Because I was changing. People often want artists to stay exactly the same, especially after a successful record. But I was living in a different environment. I was discovering different music. My inspirations were evolving. The version of me that made Lego wasn't the same person a few years later. Some people around me weren't always happy about those changes. They preferred the sound that had already worked. But I knew that if I wanted a long career, I had to keep growing.For me, artistic development is more important than staying comfortable. One of the biggest turning points came through La Relève and your connection with Mehdi Maïzi. Definitely. That moment changed everything. I remember receiving a message from Mehdi saying he had seen one of my videos and wanted to speak with me about a project. Everybody in France knows who Mehdi is, so I was immediately excited. Being selected for La Relève introduced me to a much wider audience and completely changed the scale of my career. For the first time, major labels were paying attention. Industry people wanted meetings. There was real momentum around what I was doing. It felt like the beginning of a new chapter.Today, you're not only focused on your own career but also on helping artists in Gabon. Why has that become such an important part of your work?Because I know how difficult things can be. There are so many talented artists in Gabon who deserve more opportunities, better infrastructure and stronger protection for their work. Right now I'm involved in projects that aim to strengthen artist rights and build stronger cultural connections between Gabon and France. I think success becomes much more meaningful when you can use it to help other people. I've benefited from people opening doors for me throughout my career. Now I want to do the same for others.Finally, you're preparing to release Latitude Zéro. What does this project represent?A return and a new beginning at the same time. I've spent years exploring different sounds and different versions of myself as an artist. But at the end of the day, I'm still African. That's something I wanted to embrace more openly on this project. Latitude Zéro feels very connected to who I am today. It's influenced by where I come from, but it's also looking forward. More than anything, it feels honest. And that's always what I'm trying to achieve.Now that you got to know the girl behind the music, head down to our radio broadcast in Paris for Fete de la Musique, where Vicky R will be part of the cypher and stick around for our party that will go well into the night. 

PLOEGENDIENST released a new music video for their song ASFALT! What you see is what you want. AND WHAT YOU WANT, ALWAYS NEEDS TO BE BETTER! 

Murkage Dave and Ryan from Yard Act have gone and done a version of ‘Gabriel’ by Roy Davis Jr. & Peven Everett. Together with the cover, they released an official video of their live performance.