
COFFEE WITH
JULI BOLAÑOS DURMAN: “I’M MORE PERSISTENT THAN TALENTED”
Name: Juli Bolaños Durman
Profession: Artist
Nationality: Costa Rican
Instagram: @julibd___com
LATINNESS: Juli, you’re originally from Costa Rica, yet based in Scotland. What inspired your move to Edinburgh, and how did this change influence your work?
JULI: I studied graphic design in Costa Rica, but I always knew I wanted to be an artist. At that time, my parents told me, “Okay, perfect. If you want to be an artist, you first need to get a degree in something practical.” In those days, my sister was studying graphic design. I saw everything she was creating and decided to follow that path.
It was really nice because we started the year learning about all the presentation techniques, from colored pencils to airbrushing, which was very practical at the beginning. Then, we learned how to present an idea, and that was fundamental.
When I finished, I had the opportunity to get a Master’s degree. I wanted to specialize in glass and move abroad. Scotland turned out to be one of the places that offered a Master’s degree with a very good reputation. In the end, I studied for six months at the Art Students League of New York. After that, I came here and graduated. The university is so big that they gave me an entrepreneurship visa… I’ve been here for 12 years now.

Powerful Ordinary, Bonds 2020. Image by Paula Szturc.

Powerful Ordinary Bonds, 2020. Image by Jaro Mikos.
LATINNESS: Your work focuses a lot on sustainability. In Latin America, Costa Rica is known as a leader in this area. Was it this culture that led you to follow this angle in your art?
JULI: I think it came from my family. In Costa Rica, many imported things were expensive, so if they broke, we needed to be frugal and repair them. My grandfather used to do that, although sometimes we’d say, “Please throw that away already; you’ve fixed it seven times.”
My parents and grandparents were thrifty and cautious. These days, the pace at which we live makes it more common for things to be used and thrown away. However, it always seemed important to me to stay connected to the family tradition: consume less and of better quality, use as much as you can of what you’ve already bought, and be more frugal.
Also, to avoid so much waste, because where does all that trash go? We think we throw it away, and that’s it because we don’t see it anymore, but that’s a lie. I find it hard to throw things away, which is why I say I want my house to be beautiful and not full of chunche, which is the Costa Rican word for “a bunch of stuff.”
Maybe at first, I related this “don’t throw away” mentality more to glass. When I was studying, I discovered that contemporary glass in Costa Rica — I mean from the 1980s — was mostly seen in large windows, like those in churches. Then, it started to merge with more modern techniques, but everything was imported, making it super expensive.
At that time, I would think, “Okay, if I already paid for this piece of glass and I have a leftover, I’m going to make the most of it.” It became a creative exercise to find different projects and use as much material as possible because I would think, “The water’s already been polluted, the diamond tips have already been worn down, people have already been paid. How can we be more responsible in that sense and use everything we’ve bought?”
This mindset became stronger when I came to study for my Master’s. Although I didn’t have much experience, my department head gave me permission to start developing courses with second-year students. Let’s say I was doing a kind of Bachelor’s degree in glass and began experimenting with different techniques. I fell in love with the cutting technique, which allows you to give new life to something that’s broken. It’s like if a glass falls and shatters, with this technique, I create a beautiful scar. It’s lovely because, even though it may no longer be used for drinking, it can become a vase; it gives a second chance to discarded material with a bit of imagination.

Image by Gabriela Silveira.

Ode to Intuición, 2013. Image by Shannon Tofts.
LATINNESS: Tell us about your creative process.
JULI: I approach it with the curiosity of a child who’s asked what they want to be when they grow up. So, I’ll ask a wine bottle, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” And it might reply, “I want to be an astronaut.” And I say, “Okay.” What I do now is create a space that is joyful and super playful, where I regenerate.
Sometimes, we try to be very logical and come up with a project that’s super beautiful and different, but at the end of the day, what truly works is what isn’t forced, what simply is. The key is to remember how to connect with that side of innate creativity, because every human is born with it. That’s how my work feels to me, and I see it as a privilege.
LATINNESS: How do you source your materials?
JULI: After the pandemic, I realized it’s better to get materials that come from the community, because before, I used to buy them from China since it was the cheapest option. Now, with a bit more seasoning and experience, it’s more important to me to represent this moment and time. For example, two blocks from my studio, there’s a company that produces a delicious gin, and the bottle is beautiful. You also find charity shops where you can get everything from clothes to household items and glassware. Since Edinburgh used to have the Edinburgh Crystal company, people here grew up with beautiful crystal glasses—something you don’t see often in Costa Rica or Latin America, where glassware was typically reserved for special occasions. So, I have several sources for my materials.

Image by Edvinas Bruzas.

Image by Mariam Woching.

Imagen by Edvinas Bruzas.
LATINNESS: Like the glassware your grandma had, the ones nobody touches.
JULI: Exactly. In Latin America, for example, if Sunday was a special day, they’d bring out those imported crystal glasses from Europe, which gave a sense of status. Here, it was so common that people lost appreciation for it. Plus, houses are smaller, and there’s IKEA, which is incredibly cheap.
That’s why you find so much in charity shops. I also often look for antiques, especially at flea markets. I don’t just do it because I can mix them in a beautiful way, but also because I believe we don’t need to produce more things. They’ve already been made; the point is how you can use them and place them in a different context—that’s practical.
I get stressed by the amount of waste we produce and how people no longer take care of things like they used to. If they tear a pair of pants, they don’t fix them; they throw them away. In our grandparents’ time, everything was repaired; everyone knew how to sew. For example, I don’t know anything about that. However, now I’m going to make curtains for my house; sometimes, you just have to break the mental barrier and say, “I’m going to try.”
LATINNESS: Yes, and the perception that everything has to be perfect. It happens a lot in fashion when we talk about wanting to be sustainable while launching more brands and more products, even though so much already exists. How do you create with what’s already out there and give it a new life?
JULI: What you’re saying is a complete dissonance. It also happens when you buy vegan leather from a store that sells items that are more ethically sourced, sustainable, and cruelty-free. The truth is, we live in a capitalist world, which means that if you invest in a store, you have to sell more. And what’s the point? Even if you’re selling more sustainable products, you’re still encouraging people to buy more. I struggle to understand it; in fact, I once saw a statistic that said we’ve already produced enough clothes for six generations. How stressful!.

Image by Shannon Tofts.

Image by Edvinas Bruzas.
LATINNESS: The work you do with waste is quite important. Do you connect with other artists who do similar projects?
JULI: Yes, and it’s really beautiful. My studio is in a building that has grown over time, and most of the people here are architects. There are also other creative entrepreneurs like me. The founder and his family are from Iceland, so they have a strong collaborative spirit. I’ve learned a lot from them, and it’s wonderful because no one exists in isolation.
A lovely example is with my apartment project. I thought, “I have this project; I can do it on my own, but I don’t know much about architecture or project management.” Well, I know a bit, but not at that scale or with that level of detail, which requires a lot of knowledge. Then my friend said, “I can help you.” He liked my work, so I replied, “Okay, perfect. Let’s make a deal: I’ll pay you with one of my pieces.”
We got excited about the project, but then the question became: how do we collaborate? From my perspective, I’m always translating, because I’m a graphic designer. I don’t consider myself good with numbers, but everyone brings something of value. Although I was born in Latin America, and as an immigrant, you’re often seen as someone who doesn’t speak perfect English, so you have to work harder to prove your worth—you probably understand what I mean—at the end of the day, you also need to feel very proud of your home country and what you have to offer. As an immigrant, you observe the foreign culture in real time from a different perspective. This makes you ask questions that locals never even think about.
Sometimes I don’t know the solution, and I just dive in. When that happens, my brother says, “Oh my God! Take it easy.” I throw myself into it and figure it out as I go. Of course, I’ve taken some hard hits, but the personality and strength of our culture—the mindset of “we’ll solve it”—pushes me forward. You can’t do it alone, but it’s beautiful to see how different people appreciate your work, and it becomes an ongoing conversation, alive and constantly changing.
It’s a process of observation, and through this, I’ve been able to complete so many projects quickly. I’ve always remained open to collaboration; however, it’s not about collaborating with just anyone… there has to be some affinity. Even so, I think it’s an important conversation that allows you to learn a lot from others while also getting to know yourself better, especially when it comes to problem-solving.

Image by Gabriela Silveira.

LATINNESS: At LATINNESS, this is a recurring theme in our interviews– the idea of working twice as hard to prove ourselves is something we hear often. However, I’m sure that with your talent and charisma, you’ve accomplished a lot in these 12 years. You’ve collaborated with world-renowned institutions like Somerset House, Corning Glass Museum in the United States, and even exhibited at the Victoria & Albert Museum. How did these opportunities come about?
JULI: People think I spend all day painting and making art, but honestly, about 70% of my work is writing and submitting applications for residencies. So, I’ve had to learn to write and communicate in English very well.
LATINNESS: So success isn’t just about talent…
JULI: You have to do it all! From paying bills to being an entrepreneur, it’s like being “Soyla” (Soy la in Spanish translates to “I’m the one who…”). But it’s nice because it’s very dynamic.
People say, “You’re super talented,” but I think I’m more persistent than talented. I might apply to ten residencies, awards, or exhibitions in a year, and if you have a good ratio, maybe three or four will accept you. It’s all about applying consistently and setting goals every time you have an opportunity or submit an application, always keeping your core values in mind. That has helped me write and communicate very well, and also to synthesize ideas.
For example, every year there’s the New Glass Review, which is like a contemporary glass art survey at a global level. I apply every year with a new project, but it can’t be more than a year old. I make sure to participate, even though it’s a big investment in both time and money. Out of the seven times I’ve applied, I’ve been accepted twice.
In fact, Corning was pure luck because the year I applied, I got in for their 60th-anniversary exhibition. These are beautiful projects that you build little by little; they’re seeds that don’t sprout immediately. Even if you don’t get accepted into other applications, the curators at these important international institutions need to see your name about eight times to recognize it.
It’s about consistency in the long term, and of course, managing the cash flow so I can keep investing in collections, projects, new collaborations, and strategic alliances. I’m an artist, but I also have to be an entrepreneur. I can’t just say, “I’m not good with numbers,” because that’s an excuse. I have to manage it, and if I can’t, I ask for help.

Image by Shannon Tofts.

Wild Flowers Collection, 2019. In collaboration with Brazilian photographer Gabi Silveira.
LATINNESS: Do you think your studies in graphic design helped you structure your work?
JULI: I think it’s been super interesting because it has shaped how I communicate art. It doesn’t matter if someone studied anthropology or medicine and then decided to switch fields; that background will always be an advantage because it adds value to your perspective and makes it more informed. Nobody is two-dimensional; we are nuanced human beings—we’re a spectrum of things.
My vision has been enriched. It’s a wonderful opportunity. I remember that at first, people here would say, “Poor Juli; she’s trying to explain herself in two languages,” and I thought, “Don’t speak for me! How frustrating! My brain is thinking in double, so don’t see it as a disadvantage.”
With graphic design, I didn’t have as much experience with glass. However, the way I communicated through animation, interesting graphics, and posters—emphasizing high-quality photography and always hiring a photographer—makes the work look super professional. I’ve done it this way from day one, even though it’s a huge investment.
For example, if you ask me for a photo from 2003 or 2010, I have it. That gives your work a completely different status and makes a difference. If I set up a gorgeous exhibition here or in South Kensington, London, and invest a lot of money, what happens? How many people can come from Thursday to Sunday? Let’s say at most five thousand. Yet, if I shoot a video and create a five-minute mini-documentary, publish it on my website, and then send it in to apply for a design festival in London, Argentina, or wherever, it gives me greater possibilities. It’s all about how you communicate.
That has been a super tool for me because art is typically for just 1% of the population, but I want it to be more accessible—not just for those with a lot of money. Videos allow you to do that; plus, it’s beautiful to see how the work evolves and how you capture a particular moment through images and sound. If I move from one studio to another, that studio will never exist again, but it’s captured in that moment.
That has been important, and I think it has given me an edge here because there are many glass artists, but not all of them know how to communicate, even if they are amazing. In their case, presentation is not always the priority; however, now everyone has to be a brand.


Ode to Intuición Series, 2013-2017. Image by Paula Szturc.
LATINNESS: When luck strikes, you have to be prepared… Plus, you’ve collaborated with brands like Vacheron Constantin from Edinburgh. How did this happen?
JULI: Vacheron Constantin reached out to a creative workshop called Method Studio when they launched their boutique in London. That was about ten years ago; the project was for a limited edition watch case. Then, ten years later, they wanted to do something special for the launch of the Edinburgh boutique, the second in the UK, so they contacted four artists: one specializing in glass (me), another in ceramics, another in plaster, and another in textiles to each create a piece.
I started from scratch and presented them with several proposals to choose from. The beautiful thing about the project is that the clientele doesn’t just sit in the VIP room with champagne in hand to look at the watches; in a way, with their purchase, they are also investing in the community of artisans and contemporary artists. They’re not just buying a piece from an artist; they’re investing in a community.

Wild Flowers Collection 2019. Image by Shannon Tofts.

Powerful Ordinary Bonds, 2020. Image by Paula Szturc.
LATINNESS: I’m curious about your connection to Costa Rica. Your use of joyful colors reflect your Latin American origin. Do you feel that your inspiration comes from those Latin roots?
JULI: Yes, I can’t hide that. At first, when I arrived in Edinburgh, I saw a lot of Scandinavian influence; everything was super elegant but simple, and the colors were very muted. In that setting, when I started creating my sculptures, color would come out unintentionally. Then, as I began to understand my process and my roots, I realized that I was born on a mango farm and that my childhood was spent playing outside with my cousins. My parents would say, “Bye, we don’t want to see you until six in the evening,” which was dinner time, so we spent all our time playing in that tropical garden, with those colors.
Being here, I understood that this is part of my DNA. However, I also had to learn that I couldn’t use all the colors at once because when I started, it was a rainbow. Now I spend a lot of time observing nature in order to find my color palette. I don’t have to invent it… it’s already there. That’s why almost always in the exhibitions I participate in, people say, “this is Latin.”
For me, it’s more about feeling and less about thinking, because if I were in my mind thinking, “it has to be perfect,” I wouldn’t create anything. That’s impossible. We’re human, and in that imperfection lies the opportunity.
Images courtesy of Juli Bolaños Durman.