She is just in the middle of a series of drawings for a new book by children's book author Daan Remmerts de Vries, when BOIDR rudely snatches Marije Tolman out of her concentration. Crime scene is her studio in a monumental wine warehouse in the Hofkwartier. Blackbirds, tits and music keep her company there as she sits by open garden doors, fiddling with new work. A state of great happiness for Marije Tolman (1976), award-winning illustrator of (mainly) children's books.

She is the spiritual mother of a motley family, including the brightly coloured Fox (with lyrics by Edward van de Vendel) and the hedgehog Egalus. For a more mature audience, she may have become better known in recent years through her collaboration with Youp van 't Hek ('Verkeerde sokken', 'Een zee van tijd' and the drawn version of 'Flappie'). Last year, her illustrated version of Remco Campert's 'Diary of a Cat' was published. And a new book with van 't Hek is in the pipeline: 'Eeuwige trouw' to be published June 2025.

Animals crawl plenty in Marije Tolman's world, even a centipede. Between tours of Scotland and Ireland, she crawls on her talking chair for a while.

Cover of the book Vosje

Your father is artist Ronald Tolman, with whom you made three picture books. So then you fell into a cauldron of ink as a child. 

"As a child in Beuningen, where my parents had converted an old farmhouse, I was always tinkering and drawing. I was always welcome in my father's studio. A great childhood. But until the end of high school, I thought: I'm not going into the arts. I had seen my father's struggles, and wanted to study psychology. Until, on my final list, I got a 10 for drawing and thought: surely I should look at an art school. There it felt like a playground. I went to do graphic design in The Hague, the only direction where there might be a livelihood."

Was it what you hoped it would be? 

"The Hague was known for its teachers who specialised in classical typography. But I didn't like it there at all. Far too strict and framed, not enough playful. Instead, I wanted freedom. When I was on exchange in progressive Scotland in my third year, I saw that they were already working with computers. That still horrifies me. The computer takes the liveliness and excitement out of your work. The unlimited possibilities limit your own thoughts and decision-making. You soon let yourself be led by the possibilities; what goes wrong, you click away. Putting a line on paper yourself is much more exciting; I'm convinced you can see that."

"In Scotland, I very impulsively decided to switch to illustration. They reacted to that with disdain in The Hague. Whenever I came up with illustrative solutions in graphic design again, they said, 'You'll do a bit of drawing once you have children.' In Edinburgh my heart opened up, I made more there than in all those years in The Hague."

Still, you had to go back to The Hague. 

"That just didn't get used. I came from the neighbourhood of Nijmegen, a friendly, nice left-wing town. If you accidentally nudged someone in a pub, you got a beer. In The Hague, you got a push back. I found that transition so intense that I went to live in Leiden with some friends from the academy. I also couldn't find my way in that fragmented city. You quickly end up in neighbourhoods you don't want to be in, and elsewhere it is terribly elitist. Our children went to school in Benoordenhout. They still speak of 'Benauwdenhout'. That's what it was: oppressive, boring and stiff."

And yet you also returned after Leiden ... 

"Because of love. I lived briefly in Italy after the academy, to work at an advertising agency. And there came Ramon. Unable to burn himself away from his birthplace Scheveningen, where he surfed fanatically. We have two children and in the meantime I have come to love The Hague. Especially that combination of city with sea and dunes. Nature is my constant companion. If I get stuck at work, I escape from the city. Cycling through the dunes gives me air. Then, of course, The Hague is the place to be. The Hofkwartier is also great, just like the Zeeheldenkwartier, where I live. I still dream of living outside, but I also dislike the Blokker mentality of the countryside."

How did you come to work with Youp van 't Hek?  

"By the Coffee: Douwe Egberts published picture books to encourage children to read. Cartoonists were paired with stories of Dutch celebrities. I was paired with Beau van Erven Dorens, but he just didn't come through with text. So that didn't happen, and I didn't mind at all. There was already a story by Youp, though. At least he can write, which I liked. At the book presentation, we both felt a bit lost between SBS6 camera crews and it clicked.

A few months later, Youp had written a children's book: ‘Verkeerde Sokken’. He asked me if I wanted to draw with it. It didn't matter how or what, 'as long as it's by Marije Tolman'. You can't get much nicer than that. Later followed ‘Een zee van tijd’ and 'Flappie', the well-known Christmas rabbit. I had put Youp glasses on Flappie, and that worked well. A pity, though, that Youp was so well behaved when Flappie died. I would have liked the blood splatters to drip off the pages. Children can really handle that. But Youp didn't dare. Even a hang ear from the pan was too much for him."

How is a Marije Tolman created? 

"In different ways. I create a lot with stories by authors who appeal to me. The book for Daan Remmelts de Vries arose from drawings of mine, to which he wrote a beautiful story. But usually it goes the other way round."

"With my father, I made three textless books, purely from the fun of making them, with no story or scenario. For the first book, ‘De Boomhut’ from 2010, we only had a setting: a tree house as I had known it as a child. My father made a drawing, gave it to me and I made something on that. So it went back and forth, until we discovered a line. After eighty drawings, we laid them across the floor and started shuffling and searching with publisher Lemniscaat until we had a story.

Without words, so children and parents could make their own interpretation of it. Children are far too full of densely packed stories anyway. We didn't know if this would work, perhaps parents would be shocked that they had to get to work. It turned out differently: ‘De Boomhut’ won a Gouden Penseel and the Bologna Ragazzi Award for 'the most beautiful picture book in the world'. It was published in 15 countries. In every country we went to, we heard thoughts from children again that we had never come up with ourselves."

Marije Tolman Egalus

"'Egalus' was born entirely out of myself. Or actually from our daughter, Liv. When she was 11, she had to make up her own Greek myth for school. She came up with Egalus, a hedgehog who kept the forest clean, which she also drew. I thought it was such a brilliant idea that I told her it might one day become a book. A few months later, I got the assignment for Children's Book Week, with the theme 'Giga green'. Then I grabbed Egalus from the notice board and started turning it into a story."

"A story by others has to touch me. Otherwise, I won't start it again. Just like I don't do educational books anymore. Then the text is about a blue ball at the bottom left, then you have to draw a blue ball at the bottom left. Whereas, first of all, I would like to give that ball a rock kick, but it's not allowed."

As a children's book creator, do you have an educational role?  

"It should never become moralistic, but I feel it is my duty to give something more than just a happy or sad book. You can make readers, child or adult, think a bit. Egalus is set in the ‘Sjeestijd’, a primeval time when people had no time to dwell on anything, but which Egalus did not participate in. I deliberately show that 'primeval time' as a bygone era. To offer a hopeful story and show how everything could be different."

Your work looks cheerful and festive, with swishing lines and bright colours. Does that say something about Marije Tolman? 

"I think I am in all the books. Sometimes I only see it myself after it is finished. ‘Vosje’ speaks of my love for nature and desire to be outdoors. That lonely little cyclist who cycles on and on. Vosje is a bit of a contemplator on the outside, so am I. More generally, I identify myself with my figures in those bright neon colours. They testify to an enormous zest for life. I have a passionate drive to make something beautiful. Partly because of things I've been through, and the realisation that tomorrow everything could be over, the need has only grown."

Where does this need come from? 

"Ten years ago, my sister died, far too young. Breast cancer. She was 40 and left behind two children. That has been very defining for us, those left behind. It greatly increased my urge to create. It also helps that just before her death, my sister had asked me to keep making beautiful things. That has become a kind of mantra for me. My father had it even stronger: he started painting almost manically, with loud music on, for years. That was his grief and his survival strategy."

"The first months after her death, all I did was cry. Then I got an assignment from KRO to make an animation for a preschool film. Something with a chicken that transformed into a cat and laid another egg. While literally tears rolled onto paper, I made my funniest drawings ever. I found that so intense, and also so instructive: you can push your feelings in a direction. And you can give people something very cheerful while being sad yourself. That makes the work lonely, but also very powerful and healing."

It's quite a contrast to the festivity in your work.  

"I have always had a kind of childlike joy in me. The death of my sister reinforced that. An enormous urge to celebrate life. Where grief and mourning can go hand in hand with immense happiness, which I also know. Never before had I experienced that so explicitly. Therein also lies a common ground with Youp: around the death of my sister, he has been of great comfort to me. Special, because we hadn't known each other for so long."

"Besides happiness, there is always something of sadness in all my work. It doesn't always show, but it doesn't have to. It has meaning anyway: there is nothing more beautiful than being able to make something with which you can pass on happiness or beauty to others. You are what you make and you make what you are. For me, making and touching people is also my raison d'être. That you can give some meaning to yet another extra who walks around here."

What else is in the barrel of that extra? 

"Books remain important to me. Another book with Youp is forthcoming: 'Eternal Fidelity' about handy tips and light anecdotes about marriage victims. I do feel a growing love for other kinds of outings. When Youp celebrated his farewell as a cabaret artist, I designed farewell gifts for him at the request of three parties. Among others, a tile for Theater Carré, with Youp on it among a lot of balloons. I also made a big final curtain and the poster for his last show. I would like to do that more."

Marije Tolman De Boomhut

"I designed the elephant reading in a book on its trunk, in the logo of the Bookstor on the Noordeinde - I'm friends with the owner. They sell work by me there, and 'Tolmania': bags, sketchbooks and pencils from the 'brand' Marije Tolman. We are now working on producing a responsible chocolate, with beautiful letter design by Daniël Markides and wrappers drawn by me. Possibly some bars will feature original artwork. If successful, we will launch the chocolate at Bookstor. Then to conquer the whole world."

www.marijetolman.nl