Artist in conversation: Rye
“I believe, as in all things, art reflects reality - so in that sense artists play a significant role in holding a mirror up to society to say - hey, what exactly are we doing here?”
Rye is a multi-media artist based in Forest Gate, East London. She is inspired by the impact her generation is leaving on the planet - she views her work as contemporary taxidermy. The materials used will be found buried in the earth for centuries to come. How many versions of plastic dinosaurs will future palaeontologists discover when trying to learn about us? Rye uses plastic toys now, in place of natural elements as humanity continues to mass produce plastic toys as a symbol of our eternal mark on the planet in exchange for the dopamine hit these toys temporarily provide before breaking or being thrown away.
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What initially inspired you to become an artist, and how did you develop your unique style?
I’ve always created things, ever since I can remember - so it feels more like it chose me - it’s just that it took me awhile to fully embrace it as an identity. I am constantly inspired by shapes and materials around me in everyday life. Things that we often look over, or that wouldn’t necessarily go together - put alongside each other to become something new. It’s a habit I have when I look at anything to break it down into shapes and curves and envision where else these are found or used in other figures. I also have always been drawn to this idea of using things that most consider waste - even in nature. I’ve used driftwood in previous works, assembled together to create something identifiable as a whole, but only upon second glance do you realise what they’re made from. It’s a fun play on engaging the viewer, daring them to have a closer look. I like to think of the animals as whispering a subtle secret in the moment the viewer sees their first identifiable toy, and hopefully then luring them in further to share a bigger, more layered story as more toys are viewed individually. The longer you look, the more you’ll recognise, and it becomes a game played between the animal and my audience. I love telling stories visually, so this medium is an extension of my want to engage with people in a playful and unexpected way.
In terms of subject matter, what themes or motifs do you frequently explore in your work, and what draws you to these topics?
I am very drawn to various types of collage - with natural elements as well as plastic. This idea that you can take a pile of one type of object, lay it out and zoom out your own perspective so that you’re no longer seeing the individual toy but rather the shape needed for a certain part of an animal. A good example of this is on Philia, where her jowls and jawbone fit together. The jowls are created from rubber princess dresses that were cut and flayed out - to really capture the look I needed, and the jawbones are each the shovel section of those plastic spoons you see in the grocery stores around Halloween for carving pumpkins. Those kits rarely last more than a season - the knives in particular usually break early into carving a pumpkin, so I had a pile of these pieces, and I realised that the scoop part of the spoon was the exact shape I needed to define that jawbone. So, I am drawn to this notion of using one thing to completely represent another - to play with perspective in this way and take something we normally only see in one, single use - as something entirely new.
What initially drew you to the medium of contemporary taxidermy using plastic toys?
Initially I couldn’t get this idea of future palaeontologists - think in hundreds of years - digging into the earth and trying to understand our society - our little mark in the drilled earth core sample. I imagine these individuals finding endless replicas of the same plastic toy and wondering why our generation felt the need to have so many plastic farm animals, dinosaurs, cars, food, dolls, etc… I imagine them trying to understand why we thought each child needed everything in nature replicated, however many times over, in plastic. I also read somewhere that the average time a child plays with a plastic toy with any great interest is around 48 hours - particularly toys from fast food chains - and this further sparked my curiosity with how the future will try and piece together exactly what we were up to in this era. It’s why I consider it contemporary taxidermy because it isn’t going anywhere - and any generation will recognise the animals as a whole - but rather than them being actual taxidermy in the traditional sense they’re created out of these hundreds and hundreds of shapes layered together. It’s really a play on the plastic demanding its space in the world - as we’ve created so much of it at this point, we don’t really have any clue what to do with it and so it absolutely demands our attention. This is true of all plastic, but I really enjoy playing with the relationship we as individuals have with toys.
What role do you believe artists play in addressing environmental issues, and how do you think art can influence societal perspectives and behaviours?
I believe, as in all things, art reflects reality - so in that sense artists play a significant role in holding a mirror up to society to say - hey, what exactly are we doing here? For me there is also such a sense of treating these toys that would have been binned - either immediately or eventually - as a natural element - because the reality is that plastic is here, it isn’t going anywhere and one way or another we have to figure out what to do with it. It doesn’t mean I don’t have plastic in my own house, it just means I’m acknowledging that it’s sitting there, demanding my attention and I have chosen to use it for something new. One of the aspects of my pieces that I am most interested in is watching people get closer and realise how many different toys are used - which they recognise and which they themselves have had in their hands either as children or adults. It’s relatable to see a toy you played with as a child mixed into the collage and then zoom out and see it’s now just a smaller part of the bigger animal. I hope it helps to create an instant relationship between the viewer and the piece by triggering memories - particularly memories of a time that feels so long ago to an individual, and yet here the toy still sits - without degradation - against hands that no longer look how they did as children. It highlights how short our time here is in direct juxtaposition to the solid, indestructible nature of plastic. In that sense, it is humanity’s own natural element, and I would hope it would make people look at temporary plastic toys differently.
Can you share a specific piece of artwork that holds special significance to you?
I first studied art in Paris and during that time I had a professor who introduced me to The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, by Bernini. She was so animated in her descriptions of the marble sculpture and the absolute outrage it caused not only when it was finished in 1652 but continuing onward into the arguments of contemporary scholars that I was intrigued. The first time I saw it in Rome I probably stared at it for 30 minutes – just captivated not only by the obvious talent (but this is hardly surprising, we are talking about Bernini after all) but the absolute blatant sexuality. I remember standing in the church in the centre of Rome, staring at this stunning marble statue - that is, without question, depicting a woman mid-orgasm with an angel. My art teacher had been absolutely enamoured with the piece and when I saw it in person, I was fascinated by the ability for its meaning to be up for debate. It completely highlighted this notion that so much of what we as the viewer takes from art is influenced by our own surroundings and comfort levels – we are so saturated by our own bubble of perception that for centuries people have tried to convince themselves that something else is happening in this absolutely stunning piece – simply because to admit it would be too brutal for both its era and the setting. It still sticks with me to this day and while I have many other influences, it was my first real encounter with the relationship between a piece of art and the viewer – and all that lies between the two, those elements that are spoken and those that are taboo. It forever sparked a desire in me of playing with this dynamic between art and audience.
How do you incorporate feedback from critics and audiences into your artistic practice, and how do you balance this feedback with your own artistic intuition?
Well, I try to remind myself that every individual will have their own perspective and idea of how I could have or should have done a piece. I am constantly asked about the painting stage and why I don’t leave them as the individual toys - raw, if you will. I have a few pieces that I have left this way but to me it’s not whole or complete until I’ve painted them. This step unifies the animal and for me solidifies my message as contemporary taxidermy - because it forces the viewer to see the animal as a whole before the individual toys, which is the journey and exploration I’m trying to curate for the viewer. Others would do it differently, it is a much different look and I have played around with this, but I also feel it’s so important to follow my gut as an artist in my own expression. It doesn’t mean I don’t play around with new ideas - of course there is tremendous flexibility in each piece, and I am constantly growing - but I also try and not get pulled into every direction a new suggestion or criticism dares to pull me. It’s a tricky one because of course no one loves criticism, but I have also received feedback that has been helpful in the past.
How do you stay motivated and inspired despite any setbacks or creative blocks you may encounter?
I’ve gotten better about leaving sections of pieces that are more repetitive or require less creativity for days when I know I just can’t bring the spark I need when trying to visualise a new piece. For example, I’m working on an owl at the moment and after one wing was completed, I waited quite a while before assembling the second wing because I knew exactly what needed to happen on that section and I waited for a day when I knew I’d try and convince myself that I didn’t have the passion to create. Instead, I sat down and treated it more like manual labour with a podcast and sort of processed the emotions I was going through while putting myself on autopilot and relying on my muscle memory without needing to tap into my imagination as much. The piece as a whole requires a lot of time and patience and I’ve learned not to put pressure on myself to bring my full creative potential every day, but to always, always show up and put my hands to work, no matter how I’m feeling.
How do you feel about exhibiting your artworks with The Holy Art Gallery?
I am so excited and honoured to exhibit a piece here. It’s really special to me - especially as East London is my home now so that brings an additional element of meaning to my soul when I think of Philia sitting here on display in Dalston.
Looking ahead, what are your long-term goals and aspirations as an artist, and how do you plan to achieve them?
Well, I’m currently finishing up my series of animals – I have a set of 12 that I’m close to finishing now. I also have a series of wreaths and a series of wall grids that will be coming out in the next year. I hope to get them exhibited and shown to a greater audience. I’m also eager to continue creating new animals and figures on a larger scale. As for achieving these goals and manifesting the reality I’m aiming for – all I can do is take it one day at a time, one step at a time, and face each new challenge with an open mind and flexible attitude. Every single day I show up to do the craft and we’ll see where this journey continues to take me. For the moment, I am enjoying every second of this and it is a real honour to be doing something that brings me such immense joy.
What role does emotion play in your creative process, and how do you aim to evoke specific feelings or reactions from those who view your artworks?
As in most things I do, emotion plays a big part. Sitting down to work each day on a piece means I’m bringing whatever I happen to be going through in the moment with me. It’s been a rough year with a lot of personal upheaval and so I can now look at various sections of Philia, for example, and remember exactly what I was feeling and processing at the time I created her. I can remember laying out all her base toys for example, during a period when I was struggling and sorting all of the animals across my worktable - separating them from the other toys at my disposal and I specifically remember finding these bunnies and just knowing I needed to hide them in the piece. There are a few of them and they were originally white, and I remember I felt like Alice, heading down my own rabbit hole as I put them to the side to determine exactly where I was going to hide them amongst the others. I always look for those bunnies now when I see Philia and it brings a smile to my face, remembering putting them in place. With regards to evoking emotion or reaction in my viewers I would love to imagine that their first encounter is the animal, then they dive deeper and get lost in the individual toys and their own memories of the same toys or similar - and then finally digging a little deeper to think about the plastic and how it’s been reshaped here. I’m trying to take people on a journey of discovery that ends with them realising the plastic element, versus beginning with it because these are toys and there is a lot of playfulness and fun to be had with them. It’s not entirely about the environmental impact - whilst that is important - it’s also so much about digging into the viewer’s own nostalgia and childhood and ultimately bringing out the play in us all. It’s meant to be a fun journey in this regard, one that perhaps then leads to a darker fundamental theme of waste, but it would be heart-breaking to not also acknowledge and embrace the childhood memories associated with these objects. There is a grey area here between the moral obligation and the individual associations and I hope, like Alice, that my viewers spend some time lost in that world before deciding what to take away from their experience.