Where memory and craft meet with Michelle Mildenberg Lara
When we came across Michelle Mildenberg Lara's work, we knew immediately that she belonged in Folk's world.
Her illustrations feel like artifacts from a place where history breathes — layered with archival fragments, geographical marks, and the kind of personal memory that makes distant stories feel intimate. There's a precision to her work, but also a warmth.
For Volume 01: Labor & Luck, we asked Michelle to include Incandescence, a work that returns to El Nevado del Ruiz — the snow-capped Colombian volcano whose 1985 eruption buried an entire town. Built from geological maps, military photographs, and fragments of personal recollection, the piece becomes a meditation on memory itself: what we hold onto, what slips away, and what endures when we choose to tend to it.
It's a fitting companion to this Volume's coffees, which also take root in Colombia. Both the work and the beans remind us that craft is an act of devotion — whether it's a farmer nurturing coffee at high elevation or an artist preserving what time and chance might otherwise erase.
Michelle's path to this work has been anything but linear. Born in Colombia and now based in the Netherlands, she's also lived in Germany and the UK, gathering influences from each place while keeping her imagery archive rooted in home. She approaches illustration with the mind of a researcher and the heart of a storyteller, working from literary figures and rhetorical devices to create images that feel symbolic and grounded at once.
We asked Michelle about her process, her relationship to memory and place, and how she navigates the space between intention and accident. Her answers, like her work, are precise without over-explaining — and all the more revealing because of it.
When you begin a new piece, do you tend to start with images, words, or something else entirely?
I work normally from archives, so my first approach to work would be to create (or browse through) an archive of references: photography, collage, maps, old drawings and a posture collection if there are characters on scene.
When you're illustrating for an article or book, where do you usually begin? (With the brief, the text, or an image that arrives unexpectedly?)
I read the text normally at night, after having dinner, and usually make a summary and highlight key themes for possible metaphors. Then I go to bed, and some ideas for the sketches come to me as I'm about to fall asleep. Most of the time it works!
Your work often feels precise without explaining everything. How do you decide what to make explicit, and what to leave open?
I work from literary figures, with a rhetorical approach, so some elements that are symbolic appear as brushstrokes in the work, while some other key words define the main elements of the image. One main element should give a clear understanding of what the image is about and the other elements are suggestions that open an imagery of the context.
Has living in different countries changed how you approach your work, or how you hear your own voice?
Absolutely! I think there's a mix of every place that I have lived that lingers in my work long-term. My imagery archive from my home-country would definitely be the biggest part. From living in Germany, UK and The Netherlands I have gathered other things, like cosmopolitan influences from all over the world, but also things like technique, methodology and theory have shaped the way I approach my work.
What does "home" feel like to you these days? (Is it a place, a rhythm, a language, or something else?)
I would say it's food for me! I had a child a year ago and every time I wanted to feel grounded during the difficult times of parenting living abroad, I cooked bread-pastries from Colombia: "Pan de bonos" and "Almojábanas" both a mix of cornflour, cassava flour, milk and cheese! Pairs fantastic with coffee by the way.
Volume 01: Labor & Luck explores the space between effort and chance. Where do you feel that balance most clearly in your own process?
Beautiful relation! I think it's great to be inspired by unexpected things, like travel, literature and mundane things. I sometimes see color palettes in the streets or in nature that end up in my work. The space between that, experimentation and method is a sweet spot where the work becomes relatable yet strongly personal.
A few sips
(Our not-so-lightning round — just a few small questions to savor.)
What does a really good morning look like for you?
Waking up slightly later than my partner and child, joining my partner for coffee and making breakfast together. Strolling outside during a sunny day and end up in a grocery street market! (This is a Saturday)
What's something that never fails to bring you joy? (Big or small, serious or silly.)
Registering events and my life in my hand-drawn and sticker-filled planner.
Is there something small you like to have around when you're working? (Not because it's useful, but because it helps you settle in.)
I have a vintage postal stamp collection that I inherited from my uncle, and I've categorized it by country. I keep the Japanese ones in a transparent pouch on my desk and look at them regularly while I work. It takes me outside of the digital image world that I'm surrounded by and that sometimes becomes an echo-chamber.
Incandescence is featured in Volume 01: Labor & Luck.
Explore more of Michelle's work at michellemildenberg.com or follow her @michellemildenberg.
