Ruti de Vries Talk Sanctity in the Age of Garbage
Ruti de Vries deals with the idea of beauty from a deceptive place. The materials she chooses may be cheap, yet the appearance of her sculptures and archaic figures proves that the outcome is just the opposite — her works are rich and prolific in essence, evoking sentiments of worship. They create a sense of sanctity, especially the figures in her installations and sculptures, which seem to have emerged from a mythological story and continue their existence in the present.
de Vries, 31, lives and works in Tel Aviv. She completed her B.A. at HaMidrasha Faculty of Arts and her MFA at Bezalel Academy of Art. As a multidisciplinary artist, she represents human and animal-like creatures in her sculpture, installation, collage, sewing, and drawing.
We visited de Vries' studio in Tel Aviv to discuss her creative process, philosophy, and love of nylon.
Images by Eyal Agivayev.
gggaaallleeerrryyy: Your works carry an essence of sanctity to them, despite using banal materials. Tell us about your creative process and how you utilize the materials.
Ruti de Vries: I think it can be divided into categories. For example, in the exhibition 'I Saw A Lot Of People In The Street, One Of Them Asked Me What Time It Was', (curated by Tali Ben-Nun) at The Herzliya Artists' Residence in 2019, it was about quick connections. I used untreated materials, even though I worked on it for a long time.
In my last solo exhibition, 'HEAVY SADNESS,' I worked on the sculptures for a long time, built a wooden construction, smeared with sand and glue, and then painted it. It's more of an energy thing. Sometimes I want to work on something longer, sometimes I want to work on something faster.
This year I started painting more during the pandemic. I constantly have a game of rhythm. Do I want to do something quickly, or do I want to work on something that is full of small details? It's something that keeps me busy. I am constantly in between things. I do not have a constant pace. I can get to the studio, make three sculptures in one day, or suddenly decide I do one painting in one day. It's a matter of inspiration, energy, and mood as well.
ggg: The figures in your works are often human. How do they interact in your paintings?
RdV: Mentally, I link it to the fact that I am an only child, and I have two parents so I actually lived with a couple. I'm sometimes in the middle, and I had to adjust myself to their symmetry. These are the processes that I have started to pay attention to recently, which is why I am so attached to the symmetry of two. Even now, I want to start working on paintings with frames, of which the frame is part of the painting.
ggg: In your studio, there's a backstage atmosphere, a theatrical feeling. How does that influence your work?
RdV: I'm influenced by many sources. As a student, I would just collect images from Google images. I like the thread that suddenly takes me from the 18th century to a product on eBay. There is no hierarchy between high and low, although most of the materials I work with are relatively cheap. I have a lot of fabrics that my mom throws away. She used to be a stage designer. At the material level, my work's core is related to the house I grew up in.
ggg: On one hand, your subjects are feminine in the sense that they're nonbinary. But on the other hand, they're strongly connected to femininity. Can you tell us more about that?
RdV: I'm as busy with my body image as any human being. My own characters really have something androgynous about them. Still, I really believe in this cliché that an artist does something. In the end, one creates a self-portrait, so I think there is this place, that within myself, I have femininity, but I also have masculinity.
ggg: Your installations almost resemble cult-like spaces or that of secret fraternal organization. What do you aim to convey to viewers with these aesthetics?
RdV: I think it goes back to this place of symmetry that there is some sacred center. There is a center that creates a focus, even in busy exhibitions, even if the viewer does not see it. For me, there is an order. I think the question about the viewers is fascinating. When I think of arranging a space, I want to hear what people will say, but I feel that this space is for the sculptures. I am preoccupied with the relationship within themselves, and this altar is for them.
The thought of you doing an exhibition and then you just walk away, and everything stays there. It reminds me of Disney movies, such as in "Beauty and the Beast," when the furniture comes to life.
ggg: Your work comes to life from everyday materials, such as black plastic bags that can be used to cover a dead body. Can you tell us more about this paradigm?
RdV: There's something in me that urges me to utilize nylon. It was just next to me. The first grocery store I went to as a student was called Kwaz, which is a kind of a hardware store. The owner would let me into his warehouse, and I would just dig there. I like to find junk and see what I can make of it. So the immediate pursuit comes from the desire of wanting to make something. Then the material grows on me, and now, I have dozens of nylon in the studio today.
In school, nylon felt very strong for me, from when I was starting to develop my artistic language so I created a lexicon of materials. In my world, blue nylon would be water, hair would be made from shoelaces, black nylon became leather.
In my previous studio, I had an exhibition called 'TRUE IS RED, YOU ARE BLUE' where I divided the space. There was a blue space and a red space; I inflated the red nylon with air. But the blue nylon was empty because it had no answer. It was looking for the question.
