How I Got to Playboy (and Why I Almost Left)
When the art scene feels like high school (and you’re not in the cool group)
Dearest people from the internet ❤
And a special welcome to my new subscribers and subscriberettes!
On Feeling Out of Place (and Showing Up Anyway)
Yesterday, on a coaching call, we talked about applying to art fairs and festivals. One of the women from the group said something that really landed with me. She shared that whenever she visits fairs like that, it feels like everyone’s in their corner, gossiping and not helping each other. Not to be negative, just honest. And I understood exactly what she meant. It felt like there was this wall, like you’re back in high school with all the cliques. I’ve felt that too. Especially here, in the Netherlands. I don’t think it’s about people being bad, it’s a cultural thing, an energy.
I mean, even google knows what I am talking about.
Growing up, we traveled a lot as a family. In places like Thailand or the US, people you barely knew would connect you, hype you, introduce you to others. Then we’d come back to Amsterdam, and it was just… silence. A quiet “oh, cool for you”, and then nothing. I started to train myself to think ‘they probably don’t follow and want to be polite’, but sometimes I geniunly think they just don’t care. Like they don’t want to care.
That contrast stuck with me from a young age. I remember asking my dad why I wasn’t born somewhere else. But he always replied: ‘Alaïa be happy with your dutch passport and we are lukcy to be in such a safe environment”.
At 14, when my mom asked if I wanted to move to Curaçao, I said yes right away. “Please take me away from here” I know, not the nicest thing to say, but it’s how I felt. Like I didn’t belong. At art school, it was the same. It wasn’t that i felt better or bigger than others, i just didnt fit in. I wanted to leave the country, the city, everything. And I did, for a while.
The Scene, the Silence, and the Work
In the Netherlands, at least in my experience, it sometimes feels like it’s every artist for themselves. If you don’t look the part, or if your work speaks a different language, you’re easily overlooked. That doesn’t mean there aren’t beautiful people here, but the scene can be stiff. A bit closed off. And if you're more of a listener than a networker or partygoer, you feel that even more.
I always wondered if it was just me.
But even our coach said yesterday, “This happens a lot here, and not in other places.” That really hit. It’s not to say there aren’t kind, open creatives here, there are and i did meet them recently. But the general energy in the scene can feel closed. And when you’re starting out, or expressing something personal, that silence can feel like rejection.
So, I started shooting in Curaçao and Ibiza. Those places gave me air. I could create without trying to fit in. And over time, that helped me figure out what I wanted my work to feel like, and what I wanted it to say.
The Curaçao exhibition was a turning point. I was nervous, of course, but it felt safe. My family came. Friends came. A lot of people on the island already knew my work. That made it easier to stand next to the images. It was like they saw me through the layers. That’s something I wish more artists could experience, that feeling of being held by your own community.
That said, I’ve had positive shifts lately. I went to an event with my friend Belle, a meet-up for artists who’d been part of a past fair. I was new, just tagging along, but people were so open. Curious. Welcoming. They wanted to know what I do, what my book’s about, and what I care about. That’s rare, and refreshing. It felt like meeting that one group in high school who shows you there’s another way to exist. I needed that.
So yes, I’m applying. And I hope the photographer who inspired me to write this Substack does too.
What We Don’t Share (But Should)
Another thing we talked about on the call was how hard it can be to get other creatives to share how they do things. Rates, how to pitch, who to reach out to. It’s like people shut down the moment you ask. And I’ll be honest, I don’t get that. We’re not the same artist or human being. We won’t get the same jobs. There’s room for all of us. And if we don’t help each other, who will?
That’s one of the reasons I started this Substack. I want to share how I do things, not because it’s the way, but because it might help someone figure out their way. If you ask me how to make a book, I’ll tell you. How to price a shoot? I’ll share what I charge. It may not be the standard or traditional ways, but it is a starting point.
If there's anything you want me to write about next, let me know here in the comments.
That Playboy Story
And to the person who asked how I got to work with Playboy, thank you. That question made me smile.
The short version? I dreamt it up. I wrote it down. I said it out loud. And then one day, the creative director texted me. I’ve now done three shoots with them, the third comes out in July. It all started with following what felt right, even if it didn’t fit the norm. Even if it meant doing things my way.
And maybe that’s what this is all about.
There’s no step-by-step playbook. I think the most important thing is figuring out who you are, who you want to be, and what you actually enjoy making. Start there. Let it be playful. Let it be real. Then slowly, you pour that into a mold, your own mold, and that becomes your signature. That becomes the thing only you can do and kinda apply that to the external world.
Thanks for reading.
With love, A
