Lemon paintings and potato spirals: fun times at the creative fair
Every year, creatives and DIY visionaries come together at Creafair in Zurich to get inspiration and share ideas. During my first time there, I found out it’s about more than just handicrafts – it’s also a caring community.
A lanky stall holder’s broad grin catches my eye. Alert eyes flash beneath his black horn-rimmed glasses, his shaggy brown mane bobs as he waves me over. The stand is a colourful sea of dainty bracelets and elaborate keyrings. Hand-painted cardboard signs hang on the walls, bearing slogans of the likes of: «Today’s consumption shapes tomorrow’s world.» He tells me his Zurich jewellery brand Obo (site in German) collaborates with a goldsmith’s and a women’s cooperative in Nepal to make fair trade jewellery. Sustainability with style – I like that.
But something shimmers in the corner of my eye. Like a magpie, I follow the glitter to the next stand, where I find eastern Swiss jewellery brand Alunir (site in German) showcasing a bowl full of pearly hair clips. I rummage through the bright colours, carefully examining one shaped like a carrot – until it hits me like a bolt of lightning: I’m here to get inspiration for new DIY projects, not to buy jewellery!
Let’s go
So I make my way through the huge space in the direction of handicrafts. People are getting crafty, glueing and painting all around me. A child happily shows their mother the scrap of paper they’ve cut. Two friends are talking animatedly about the best watercolours and I watch the fascinated looks of three people having a mug printed with a «live, love, laugh» print. I’m in paradise – and I never want to leave.
Creafair (site in German) is something of a paradise for crafters and DIY enthusiasts. A place for those in search of a hobby or those like me who don’t finish their projects because of all their hobbies. Back in 2024, the trade fair in Oerlikon attracted 9,000 visitors keen on handicrafts. The focus is getting to know each other and exchanging ideas. It boasts categories for every kind of interest. For example, the studio area, where pencils and brushes take centre stage, or the textile factory, which tackles everything to do with twine. The common thread is that everything is homemade.
A gadget that doesn’t just turn heads
Suddenly, a seller in a black shirt attracts my attention. He theatrically cuts a spiral from a potato and lifts it triumphantly into the air. «Healthy chips!» he shouts as he routinely wraps a wafer-thin slice of cucumber around a piece of cheese and sticks the whole thing into the hole in the potato. Then he picks up a knife and – whoosh – there’s a kind of vegetable-carb sushi in front of me. I frown. «What nonsense,» I think, as three women with cheeky hairstyles whirl past me, holding two of the ominous spiral cutters. They cast conspiratorial glances at each other – they’ve obviously snagged themselves a discount. A scene I’d expect to see at the Olma culinary trade fair.
The art of accepting the unchangeable
I walk on and see a young man having a manga self-portrait drawn. The screen next to him shows that the artist prinNana is currently sketching his glasses. A warm, friendly voice snaps me out of my thoughts. In front of me, a woman with long, dark hair and a warm smile looks at me expectantly. «Do you want to paint a cup?» Why, yes, I would.
«Just take the colours that are sitting about and get started,» says her colleague from werK2go (site in German) cheerfully, as she looks in all directions. «Where are all the paintbrushes?» She turns around, grabs the cup and laughs. «Oops! I forgot.» Then she turns her attention to the next person, until she remembers what she wanted to finish telling me. The visitor opposite me paints her cup with little hearts. Impulsively, I opt for lemons.
After just a few brushstrokes, it occurs to me that it looks terribly tacky. So I put a black grid behind it – awful. In a creative stroke of liberation, I paint eyes on the lemons. Now the chaos is perfect. Just as I’m getting annoyed about my completely botched design, the workshop leader comes by, takes one look and beams at me. «Artistic and creative!» she exclaims with praise. Alright then. If she says so.
Size matters after all
Another highlight awaits me almost at the end of the trade fair. I stop in front of the Lilliput Land (site in German) stand, exhibiting tiny, detailed worlds. Miniature bakeries with tiny loaves of bread, intricate street scenes where every window shutter seems perfectly placed. And a revolving stand full of miniatures to create your own worlds. «Lisa! Look at this cute water bottle!» exclaims a delighted visitor, grabbing her friend by the arm and pointing at it. Lisa seems unimpressed.
Shortly before heading home, I stop at a long table. A strip of paper several metres long stretches across it, covered with fine lines that suggest a picture. But at first glance, I can’t work out exactly what’s been created here. Two visitors are bent over the paper, adding to the collective artwork in black and white ink. Another visitor stands on the chair and continues the work directly on the wall. I feel a smile spread across my face. Creativity connects us. And perhaps if we gave it more space in our lives, it could also bring us humans a little closer again.
Header image: Stefanie Lechthaler
15 people like this article
Painting the walls just before handing over the flat? Making your own kimchi? Soldering a broken raclette oven? There's nothing you can't do yourself. Well, perhaps sometimes, but I'll definitely give it a try.
