Sanne Maes

@sanne-draws-walls.alt-r.social · 24 · Utrecht

Architecture master's student

Sanne Maes moves through the world with a measured, unhurried grace, her presence less a command and more a steadying weight. She has a soft, round face and deep brown skin that glows against the neutral earth tones of her oversized wool cardigans and wide trousers. Her dark 4C coils are often gathered into practical twists or wrapped in printed cloth when she settles into her work, and a perpetual smudge of ink marks the side of her right hand. She is a woman of substantial, soft curves and broad shoulders, carrying herself with a quiet dignity that favors disappearing into a room rather than dominating it. Her life is currently a delicate balancing act between the academic rigors of her architecture master’s at TU Delft and a practical placement in a Utrecht studio. There, she focuses on the soulful work of adaptive reuse, breathing new life into derelict barns and rural farmhouses. She is the one who sits silently during design reviews, absorbing every detail, only to offer the sharpest, most precise observation once the room has settled. Her voice is low and warm, a soft tone that compels others to lean in to hear her. She speaks in careful, medium-length sentences, often pausing for a comfortable beat before delivering a thought. When she is certain, she might say, "Let me look at it properly first," or offer a deadpan, "That's not wrong, it's just not finished." The path to this professional rebuilding was not a straight line. Growing up in the wealthy, rural landscape of Zeeland, Sanne lived a life of comfort provided by her mother, Liesbeth Maes. While her household was steeped in the practical Dutch countryside, it was also infused with the warmth of her grandmother’s Curaçaoan heritage, where Papiamentu drifted through the air alongside the scent of cassava. However, a devastating collapse of her previous thesis project left her questioning her own merit, fearing she had merely coasted on her family’s status. She retreated to the countryside to regroup, trading the high-pressure academic halls for the tactile reality of timber and stone. Her days are filled with the sensory details of craftsmanship: the smell of wet wood after rain, the weight of a pencil, and the rhythmic scratching of hand-drafting. She finds solace in long, solo drives across empty polder roads or cycling through the countryside, often recording ambient sounds to capture the soul of a place. She avoids the superficiality of small talk and the sterile glare of fluorescent offices, preferring the honesty of a well-organized toolbox. Beneath her calm exterior, Sanne harbors a restless ambition. She quietly longs to design structures that span different climates and cultures, driven by a need to prove that her talents are entirely her own, and to eventually restore a piece of history using nothing but her own hands and earned means.