Anna Zimmermann

Anna’s practice moves between design, art, and craft — with a strong focus on material, the body, and social structures. In our interview, she shares how she transitioned from 2D design to spatial work, why intuition is central to her creative process, and how the Feminist Welding Club emerged as a feminist space for exchange, craft, and empowerment.

Anna Zimmermann (*1994) is a designer based in Vienna. Straddling the line between object design and sculpture, her practice explores the relationship between material culture and craftsmanship. Her work is material-driven, and the objects are either made by Anna herself or in close collaboration with artisans. Her approach is versatile, often incorporating elements of imperfection, balance, and play.

She studied at the University of Applied Arts in Vienna (AT), graduated Cum Laude from the Design Academy Eindhoven (NL), and completed her Master’s degree at the Royal College of Art in London (UK).

How has your journey as a designer and artist evolved – and which personal or societal topics drive your work in particular?

I originally studied visual communication and worked a lot in 2D – that was my initial comfort zone. Over time, however, I realized how drawn I am to working with my hands, with materials and volume. Today, that is at the core of my practice.

My approach has become more focused over the years: I increasingly communicate through spaces and a reduced formal language. What’s important to me is a balance between making and thinking – between craft and conceptual engagement.

I’m often inspired by topics that emerge from everyday life. Feminism has become a constant companion – especially in relation to craft and the gendered assumptions attached to it.

You’ve studied and worked in Vienna, Eindhoven, and London. How have these international experiences shaped your perspective on art and design? Are there differences between these design scenes that particularly influenced you?

In Eindhoven, design education was strongly concept-oriented – that really shaped my way of thinking. Later, it became important for me to “unlearn” that specific approach and listen more to my intuition. Without that, my work wouldn’t be what it is today.

Vienna influenced me through its strong connection to craftsmanship. I was fascinated by the high density of traditional workshops right in the heart of the city. That’s where I began to delve deeper into craft processes and to cultivate my interest in working with materials.

London, on the other hand, was enriching because of its diversity and openness. Looking back, these different experiences mainly taught me one thing: that I can constantly reinvent myself and my work. These shifts – both geographical and conceptual – helped me to find and refine my own aesthetic language.

What does your creative process look like – do you follow a specific method, or is much of it intuitive and developed through making?

I don’t follow a fixed system. The process never starts the same way – sometimes it’s a material that fascinates me, sometimes a craft technique I want to learn, or a societal topic I want to explore.
Intuition plays a big role. I trust that things will fall into place during the process, even if they start out vague. That can be challenging. I try to leave room for what happens along the way – for detours, mistakes, and unplanned decisions. Often, it’s exactly these open phases that lead to something unexpected and new.

Your work moves between design, art, and craft. How would you describe your own aesthetic language?

That’s not an easy question – I feel like others sometimes see more clearly what defines my aesthetic, because I’m too close to it myself. But I think you can sense my background in visual communication in my work. Even though I now work with materials, I often think in terms of composition, contrast, and legibility.
My visual language is “material-driven” and inspired by process – much of it arises directly through interaction with the material. I like when objects aren’t perfect but feel alive. Many of my works are minimal, but they carry a certain sensitivity – sometimes with a rupture, humor, or a sense of disruption. Through these elements, I try to create an emotional connection with the viewer.

What exactly is the Feminist Welding Club – and how did the idea come about? Can you tell us about the background of the project and what you aim to achieve with it?

The idea came about during my master’s studies in London, but the actual engagement with the topic began earlier – in Vienna. That’s where I first worked in a metal workshop. I was fascinated by the processes, but also disturbed by the atmosphere: almost every metal workshop I collaborated with had pin-up calendars of naked women on the walls, and it quickly became clear that these spaces were mostly made by and for men.

Still, I wanted to learn to weld – precisely because it felt so inaccessible. During my time in London, I started to explore more deeply why FLINTA* people are so underrepresented in these workshops. I taught myself to weld aluminum – one of the most difficult metals to work with – and realized how empowering it felt.
Many of my fellow students were curious and wanted to learn welding too – that’s how the Feminist Welding Club was born. A space where we weld together, exchange ideas, and learn from one another. It’s not just about technique, but about reclaiming workshops as spaces for community, creativity, and self-confidence. Places where you feel safe and welcome.

By now, I’ve taught around 50 people to weld, and the Club isn’t just based in London anymore – it’s active in several locations. The Club aims to show: welding has nothing to do with physical strength, but with patience, precision, and the confidence that you belong in these spaces just as much as anyone else.
For my graduation project, I designed a lounge for the Club. All objects in it were welded by FLINTA* individuals – some by me, others by Club members.

How important is it for you to work collectively or with craftspeople? What changes creatively when things are developed together rather than alone?

I enjoy working independently, but certain things only emerge through collaboration. I learn a lot from working with others – especially by observing and questioning. For me, these processes are not just a means to an end but part of the statement of a piece.
In my practice, I try to create spaces where this kind of exchange is possible – like in the Feminist Welding Club. It’s not just about welding, but about sharing experiences, sparking new ideas together, and encouraging one another.
Creatively, collaboration adds a new depth. You leave your own bubble, and sometimes there’s friction – like when you want to try something new with a craftsperson or break from the way things are “usually” done. That can be challenging, but also incredibly enriching.
The relationships with the craftspeople I work with are important to me – I have deep respect for the skills they bring. Some have been practicing their craft for over 30 years.

What are you currently working on – and what topics or materials are you particularly interested in exploring in the future?

Right now, I’m planning an exhibition with the Feminist Welding Club. The objects for it will be created on-site – we’ll weld them together in a gallery setting. That way, welding itself becomes a performative act, making not just the result but also the process visible.