At Draaimolen, nothing is ever fixed. Not the stages, not the roles, not even the rules.
Each edition is a temporary world built from intuition, deep listening and finding the balance between nature, art and sound. For 2025, our team behind the festival is rethinking everything once again: What does it mean to design with emotion as the starting point? What happens when the forest becomes a co-creator? And how do we keep surprising ourselves and our audience, year after year?
In this conversation, the creative team reflects on the shifts, questions and ideas shaping our newest chapter; Draaimolen Festival 2025.
Looking at all the projects and collaborations over the years, does the core still feel the same as it did when it all started?
The essence is still there. That desire to break away from how a festival is supposed to be hasn’t changed. What started as handmade structures and spontaneous decisions has grown into something more layered and intentional. But the goal is still the same: to create spaces where people can feel something genuine. Spaces where the boundary between audience, artwork and environment fades away.
We ask ourselves what a space should evoke. Should it feel like being pulled into something? Should it overwhelm or hold you softly?
How has the creative vision shifted since the early days?
It has become more focused. We still embrace experimentation, but now we put emotional impact at the forefront. We ask ourselves what we want a space to evoke. Should it feel like you are being pulled into something? Should it overwhelm you or hold you gently? These questions shape everything. From the music curation to the way a piece of fabric catches the wind. We’re not designing for spectacle, we’re designing for sensation.
What still defines the creative process, and how has that evolved?
Curiosity drives everything. So does a sense of joy. There’s always a point in the process where an idea feels just out of reach, a bit too strange or too ambitious. That’s when we know it’s worth doing. We invite artists to stretch into those spaces with us. It’s not about delivering a finished idea, it’s about discovering something together. We push ourselves to (and sometimes over) the edge to create something that feels right. But secretly, part of the joy comes from pushing ourselves just a little too hard to do things we didn’t think were possible.
Draaimolen Festival 2023 – Angelina Nikolayeva
How do art, sound and nature come together in the festival environment?
They are no longer treated as separate elements. The forest isn’t a backdrop. It’s part of the composition. A sound system might be sculptural. A beam of light might behave like mist. We work with natural phenomena such as wind and movement as raw materials. The aim is to make the environment breathe with the work, not just contain it.
We work with natural phenomena such as wind and movement as raw materials.
What makes collaboration meaningful in this context?
It has to challenge both sides. We don’t just ask what someone wants to bring, we ask what they’ve never dared to try. And then we figure out how to make it happen together. That mutual risk and excitement is where the best things happen.
The aim is to make the environment breathe with the work, not just contain it.
Maybe the DJ becomes invisible. Maybe the system becomes the performer. Maybe light becomes rhythm.
How do ideas translate into physical installations in a space like this?
By listening closely to the site itself. Materials are chosen for their ability to merge with nature rather than impose on it. A transparent mesh that flickers in the light. A structure that moves with the wind. There’s an ongoing conversation between what we imagine and what the forest allows. And sometimes a failed idea becomes something better. A laser blocked by trees turned into a canopy of fireflies. These unexpected turns shape the work as much as the original plans.
Where is the creative direction headed next?
Slower, deeper, more immersive. We’re thinking more about what remains after the moment. Some installations may return year after year and evolve. We’re also becoming more interested in softness. Stillness. Not every space needs high energy. Especially not in a world driven by it in 2025. Some spaces just need to hold people, to make them feel safe but challenged. And we’re rethinking the central roles. Maybe the DJ becomes invisible. Maybe the system becomes the performer. Maybe light becomes a rhythm. The next steps are about continuing to ask unfamiliar questions.
