Events
Crissy Fila
Motherhood not only changes your life, but also the way you look at the world. For photographer and artist Crissy Fila, it meant a new perspective on herself, her work, and the region where she grew up. In this interview, she talks about her childhood in Blerick, the power of honest stories, and why the chaos of motherhood holds so much beauty.
When Crissy Fila thinks of her childhood in Blerick, she immediately envisions the Lambertusplein. Playing outside, hanging out with skaters, and kids roaming the streets all day. "I wasn't really a skater myself," she laughs, "but I thought that rebellious energy was really cool."
After her studies, she 'returned to Venlo', where she soon began advocating for more equality in the region. Recently, she released her first book, featuring candid stories from young mothers in and around Venlo about early motherhood.
“Met een baby wordt ook een moeder geboren"
She was already very serious as a child, she says herself. “People always said: she looks as if she has already finished reading the newspaper.” Crissy still has that look: observant, investigative, as if she is constantly trying to understand how people relate to each other.
Perhaps this is also the basis of her work as a photographer and creator. And of her feminist view of the world. “My parents were always very concerned about other people,” she says. “With taking care of each other and being mindful of people who are less fortunate.”
At the same time, she learned at home that status or education actually says little about who someone is. “My mother always said: no one is better than you, but you don't have to feel better than others either.”
Familiarity breeds familiarity
Still, as a teenager, Crissy sometimes felt suffocated by the Venlo "everyone knows everyone" culture. "There was a lot of talk about each other. I often thought: huh, am I the only one who has things go wrong? While later it turned out that everyone experiences things, but not everyone talks about it." It was precisely that silence that began to bother her.
At seventeen, she left for Utrecht. Later came Rotterdam and the Willem de Kooning Academy. There, she developed her fascination for images, trends, and social movements. "I've always had a sort of antenna for what's in the air," she says. "I had that back then, and I still feel it now."
Yet, Venlo eventually pulled her back. Not even as a very conscious choice. "My studies were finished, and I actually went back naturally, I think mainly because my boyfriend also went back after his studies in Tilburg." Looking back, her desire for a family played a bigger role in that than she realized at the time. "My biggest wish was simply 'house, tree, animal'," she says honestly. "Becoming a mother was more important to me than building a career."
And then she became a mother - in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic.
"There was a lot of talk about each other. I often used to think: huh, am I the only one for whom things go wrong?"
Births
"When Tijn was born, the world stood still," she says. "There was a lot of fear, a lot of distance. My friend Pim lost his mother when he was nineteen, and suddenly we had become parents ourselves. My own mother wasn't allowed to visit in those first weeks." It was precisely in that silence that something began to shift. "I suddenly felt a great responsibility. Not only for my child, but also for the world - and region - in which he is growing up."
"When Tijn was born, the world stood still, but it was in that very silence that something began to shift"
Along with Tijn, Aangenaam was also born, the feminist platform she co-founded. And after the birth of her second son Donnie, the idea for her book New Mothers emerged. “The book is about something we don't reflect on enough,” says Crissy. “With a baby, not only is a new person born, but also a new mother.”
In New Mothers, she collected stories from women about pregnancy, childbirth, loss, physicality, doubt, and change. Not polished or perfect, but honest. Including stretch marks, exhaustion, sadness, and uncertainty. “I wanted to show how beautiful that real body is,” she says. “We adore the pregnant body, but that focus shifts to the child when a baby is born. I wanted to reclaim that focus.”
During the writing sessions that brought the stories in the book to life, sharing their stories turned out to be almost healing for the women. “What feels very personal often turned out to be universal,” Crissy says. “The new mothers kept thinking: dare I share this? But others always recognized themselves in it.”
A different perspective
Her visual language also changed through motherhood. Where she used to work mainly with stylized still lifes and controlled lighting, she now started photographing life itself. “Everything became more alive,” she says. “In the photo series for the book, I worked solely with daylight. Less control, more going along with what happens. Actually, just like becoming a mother.”
And Venlo? She now views it differently as well. The "everyone knows everyone" aspect that she sometimes used to resist, she now sees as something valuable. “You really need that social safety net as a mother,” she says. “It has two sides: yes, people talk. But people also support each other here.”
"I now work almost exclusively with daylight. Less control, more going along with what happens. Just like becoming a mother, really"
She also saw this strongly during the presentation of her book. A full church, women, children, chaos, murmuring. “Some readings were less understandable due to the noise of all the children present,” she laughs. “But I only thought: yes, this is exactly it.” That is precisely what Crissy’s work is about: making space for real life. For everything that is messy, vulnerable, intense, and human. Not despite that chaos, but thanks to that chaos.
That is also what she ultimately wants to pass on to her two boys. Not perfection, but freedom. “I especially hope that later they feel they were allowed to be completely themselves in their youth,” she says. “That they were given space.” As she says this, she looks a bit serious. “Sometimes I still think that I am not enough for them. That I work too much. Or just too little. ‘Women must work as if they are not mothers, and be mothers as if they do not work,’ as Annabel Crabb aptly put it. I believe many mothers struggle with this.”
But then she talks about her little son Donnie, who can become completely fascinated by a garbage man or street work. “I think that might be the most beautiful thing about children,” she says. “That they teach you to look with different eyes and bring you to the present.” Somehow, that also feels like the common thread throughout her entire story: learning to look anew. At motherhood. At being a woman. At Venlo. And at yourself.
A story that continues
This interview is only part of Crissy's story.
In New Mothers and the accompanying traveling exhibition, she, along with seven other women, provides an honest and powerful look at early motherhood.
You can find more information about the book, the exhibition, and the schedule on her website.
