Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.08.2013, Page 24

The Writing On The Wall
It’s actually quite nice
by Parker Yamasaki
It's not street art if it's in a gallery. “I definitely don't want to exhibit street art in the white cube,” Sara Riel says, “one of the fun-
damentals is finding the right spot, it's part of its nature.” Sara has been working in the streets since the early 2000s when she
moved from her cosy hometown Reykjavík to study art in Berlin.
‘Memento Mori’ is being exhibited at the National Gallery of Island (Listasafn Íslands) until August 25.
Other works can be found throughout the year in public spaces around town. Check out her style
and past works at www.sarariel.com.
24The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 11 — 2013 Art
“When I went there you could not es-
cape the scene—Berlin was bombed
with graffiti,” she says. It was at the
East Berlin Art School Weissensee
that Sara met Nomad, her soon to be
partner in crime: in creative, stimu-
lating, city-beautifying crime. “It
was a mad life with Nomad,” she re-
calls, “it worked because at that age I
didn't want to be in the quiet peace of
a studio. I wanted to be outside, play-
ing, engaging with people.”
Playing by the rules
Reaching beyond the traditional
structures didn't mean abandoning
structure altogether. “When I got
into graffiti I thought I was diving
into this completely open realm. To
my surprise there are actually quite
a lot of rules—who to cross, or not to
cross, and how to do it; what spots
are good; how to layer the piece,
when to double line it, and what-
ever,” she goes on. And just as the
streets are a product of the societies
they host, the art on them must vary
respectively. “The rules of the game
in Reykjavík aren't the same as they
are everywhere else. This applies to
every city, they all have their own lit-
tle rules for you to figure out,” Sara
says.
She notes the impact of Brazil-
ian folklore on Sao Paulo artists Os
Gemeos. She talks about the dry-
humoured political style of iconic
British artist Banksy. It's clear that
their works are steeped in the cul-
ture that these artists work within.
To the extent that the city dictates
the style, it is as much cultural as it
is spatial. “Berlin is much more of a
writing capital,” she says, “because
of its small, wide streets. Whereas
Barcelona is better for street art with
its narrow, tight streets. So the cities
themselves call for their own visuals.
Even more so when you're working
in your own mind—in a studio that
isn't connected to the place that you
live.”
Berlin's affinity for tagging names
didn't rub off on Sara, though. “It
was clear that Nomad and I were less
interested in tagging our names—we
were more into creating these sort
of real-time comics” she says. Berlin
was soon speckled with their original
cast of characters, usually accompa-
nied by a one-line sentence relating
to the particular situation. “Whatev-
er came to mind,” Sara says, “that's
what was put down. It was like that
for a while, always with a pen, al-
ways on the run. A sort of manic
state.” She says with a laughing
fondness, “you have to be a little bit
manic if you want to do this because
the outside is endless, if you want to
have an impact you either have to be
everywhere, or super large.”
Practice what you preach
In the grand scheme of things, the
mania was worth it. Sara's style is
distinct; her works are detailed and
well executed. Of course, it isn't just
about precision; it's about the prac-
tice and the process. “A lot of what
we did [in Berlin] was total trash,
just a bunch of crap put down. But it
taught me to be more light-hearted
about mistakes. There's a feminine
tendency that I had to overcome—
that ‘everything has to be beautiful,
everything has to be perfect’—be-
ing around the boys taught me a lot.
They taught me to just go for it.”
There is a lot to learn in the realm
of street art, but it's not going to hap-
pen through traditional pedagogy.
“I've been asked to give lectures on
street art, and things like that” she
says, “but it shouldn't be learned like
that. It's something you learn by get-
ting out and doing it—copy others,
find your style, get better, build your
street credit—it's not something to
learn academically.”
White cubes aren't
just for squares
Sara's love of the outdoors is not
mutually exclusive with exhibiting
indoors. “It's not a story that goes
‘from the streets into the national
museum,’ like most people might
see it as,” Sara says, “A lot of people
know me from the streets because
that is where my art is most acces-
sible, but I love to promote visual art
in any form. Especially in Iceland,
where going to the museum isn't as
popular as it should and could be.”
Sara's current exhibition at the
National Gallery of Iceland, ‘Memen-
to Mori,’ is a tribute to the “just go for
it” attitude that she picked up after
years of exhibiting in the streets. “I
got this opportunity and I just had to
do it. No one was paying me to do it, I
completely ruined myself financially
and was working 15–16 hour days,
and in the end I completed the grand
mission.”
Despite all of her hard work, and
its stunning products, she notes that
there are still those who are sceptical
of the government sponsored artist
salary. She discusses the sentiment
of museumgoers, who think “I could
do this.” “No you couldn't!” she
says, annoyed, “a lot of people don't
realise how much work is put into
art, even the simplest pieces. They
don't realise how 24-7 this job is.”
But Sara’s exhibit attacks the in-
difference of museumgoers that up-
sets her so much. After three years
of brainstorming, researching, and
creating, ‘Memento Mori’ brings to-
gether two of Sara's loves: nature
and art. “Nature themes in art are
like love songs in music,” she laughs,
“a classic. That was part of the chal-
lenge that I enjoyed.” The pieces
themselves steer far clear of clichés.
Memento Mori combats the tradi-
tional aesthetics of Natural History
Museums (and points out the “em-
barrassing” absence of one in Reyk-
javík). She notes that with the advent
of portable internet sources—iPads
and iPhones and etc.—information,
which traditionally takes precedence
in natural history displays, is made
available outside of the exhibit. “I'm
not saying we don't need the infor-
mation there, but we have more free-
dom to play around with the way we
present it now, we can make it more
stimulating in every sense.”
Her exhibit serves as a prototype
of her vision, gracefully playing with
the visual presentation of scien-
tific information. A projector loops
ground-up shots of dancing florals
in the corner. A shelving unit holds
vials of various plant specimens la-
belled in Latin, a comical display of
our attempt to impose order upon
the least orderly thing of all, na-
ture. Beautifully layered collages of
scientifically illustrated moths and
butterflies are pressed up in huge
frames. At the doorway to the exhib-
it, a familiar friend greets visitors—a
framed drawing of the same mega-
mushroom that reigns over Hverfis-
gata.
One-way street
Of course there are technical differ-
ences between street art and gallery
art—the time frame, the materials,
the audience, to name a few. But re-
gardless of the space it ends up in,
Sara approaches all of her work with
equal seriousness. “To me, taking it
seriously doesn't mean it has to be
profound and intellectually serious,”
she clarifies, “serious just means
giving it your best. Pushing your
mind and pushing your limits, criti-
cizing yourself and then taking it past
that criticism. By taking it further
you usually find a way outside of the
frame.” And frames are something
that Mrs. Riel will never let herself be
confined by.
“I wouldn't take street art into the
gallery, but I will take fine art into the
streets,” she says. “I really believe
what goes around comes around.”
The statement harks back to Berlin,
always for creation, never for de-
struction. It was about making the
environment more human-like, she
mentions. “It's important to respect
your city,” she says with emphasis,
“always give it your best. You never
know where your artwork is going to
take you. If it’s done with integrity,
then most of the time it gets you a
ticket somewhere.” Let’s just hope
it’s the right kind of ticket.
The National Gallery of Iceland www.sarariel.com 10:00-17:00 until 25th of August
Memento Mori
Magnús Andersen