Simple Adult Forms: A Conversation with Silke Riis

Over the past months, Mediamatic’s Plantkamer has slowly been filling with strange winged creatures. Made from ceramics and natural latex, Silke Riis’ sculptures will continue to transform and decompose over the course of the year as part of her installation Simple Adult Forms.

If you’ve been around Mediamatic recently, you may have spotted Silke working in the Haptic Lab, pouring latex over clay moulds, testing materials, or taking a break over lunch while talking about glazes, cracking clay molds or sharing stories about wonderfully peculiar species.

Working in an open studio meant the process was often visible: prototypes on the table, experiments that didn’t quite work yet, and occasional conversations with visitors passing through the space.

I spoke with Silke about ideas behind Simple Adult Forms, reverse metamorphosis, fragile materials, embracing imperfection, and what happens when growth doesn’t move forward.

→ Read more about the installation Simple Adult Forms 

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This isn’t your first time at Mediamatic. Your earlier installation Some Breathe Through Their Butts also explored unusual organisms. How does Simple Adult Forms continue or depart from that earlier work?

S.R.: Some Breathe Through Their Butts was actually the first installation I made as a freshly graduated artist, and it was also the first time I really got to work with a, let’s say, ‘underappreciated’ species as the main topic for the work. This has since become the cornerstone of my research method, so in Simple Adult Forms I work in a similar way by approaching biology through sci-fi prototyping. Additionally, time plays an important role in both projects, since my main material, natural latex, slowly decomposes over the course of the year the installations are/were on view. The gradual transformation that happens due to this material is something I am a bit more experienced with now than I was back then. In Some Breathe Through Their Butts I worked with the natural latex in combination with raw clay directly on the walls, which made the decaying look quite “brutal”. So this time I wanted to explore and show the more delicate ways that latex can change, which was actually what made me want to incorporate wings in the installation in the first place.

Your title, Simple Adult Forms, is is intriguing. “Adult” suggests maturity, completion, even authority, while “simple” suggest reduction. How did that combination come about?

S.R.: It was actually taken directly from the definition of ‘reverse metamorphosis’, which is the biological phenomenon that initially inspired the project: Reverse metamorphosis is when an advanced larva becomes a simple adult form through metamorphosis. I chose this as the title, since I felt like it hinted towards the common grounds between humans and the non-human that I always search for, while still clearly connecting to the biological topic that I’m working with. I like the idea that the title doesn’t give away the work; it doesn’t really prepare you for the visual aspect of it, but instead it lays out a soft suggestion that there’s something to position yourself to.

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Your installation challenges that fixation on growth. This project grew out of your research into reverse metamorphosis. What interested you about this idea of an adult organism becoming simpler than its earlier form?

S.R.: I found it interesting from an evolutionary perspective how, although rare, there are examples of species where the adult is less advanced than the “baby”. Where growing means becoming lesser than before, in a way. I liked how it put perspective on the true meaning of “survival of the fittest” and how sometimes the fittest is the simple, less advanced adult. From my own experience of becoming an adult human, I found it fun to mirror humans in these species. I think it’s obvious to most people that eternal growth is unsustainable and an impossible thing to achieve, yet it’s what we strive for. Going backwards, becoming smaller, or having to take a break can easily feel like failure, although it’s often necessary in order to survive. With this project I’m not opposing growth or saying that it’s bad, because it really isn’t. However, I think it’s important to understand that degrowth, change and fragile times in the cocoon is survival success, too.

"Where growing means becoming lesser than before, in a way."

You work with materials that change and decompose over time. What draws you to working with these kinds of "unstable" materials?

S.R.: I invest so many hours and so much labour into making every piece, fully knowing that the final form is out of my hands, which is exactly why I like working with ephemerality. I’m quite the perfectionist, so it’s a funny challenge. I of course often have an idea of how they will turn out, but the fact that the sculptures will decompose and cease to exist, no matter what, is still hard to fully accept. I love that, though. It forces me to face the only given thing about life: That some day, we die. Mortality is the hardest thing to truly accept, and I’m nowhere near that, but through my artistic practice I try to work with it. On top of that, I enjoy how the material gives my sculptures a lifespan and makes them impossible to collect and hard to commodify. They are not static objects but instead like bouquets of flowers that reach different stages of beauty and appreciation as they wither.  

"I invest so many hours and so much labour into making every piece, fully knowing that the final form is out of my hands, which is exactly why I like working with ephemerality."

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During the residency you’ve been working in Mediamatic’s Haptic Lab, where the public can see prototypes, tests, and even failed experiments. How does this visibility affect your process?

S.R.: I lost my headphones in the first week of the residency and I didn’t come around to buying new ones. Since the Haptic Lab is a room with a lot of traffic and I was sitting there working without headphones on, something that otherwise signals “do not disturb”, I think a lot of people felt like they had to engage with me out of politeness while they were looking for the bathroom or just passing through. Some days it was super nice and I welcomed it, but other days I got really confronted with the fact that I’m a bit of a hermit, at least when I’m deep in the process of making something. Perhaps it’s my perfectionism playing a part here too, but I actually feel really fragile showing unfinished work, so having that many people enter my bubble in those intimate moments of experimentation was a bit of a challenge for me. It’s super ironic when you think about the whole decaying process and my attempt at loosening my control, I know, and also quite funny that I feel this way while I work on the topic of embracing not just growth and success but the “lesser than” as well. In many ways I had to accept my own failures through this process, but I honestly think it only makes the work more interesting.

Visitors are even invited to spray the sculptures with scented liquid to accelerate transformation. Why involve the audience?

S.R.: The decaying process happens so slowly that you can only really experience it if you visit the work several times over a longer period of time. By inviting the audience to actively help accelerate this process, I hope it will make them more curious to revisit and see the effect of their own actions down the line. I’m currently working on the best way to incorporate the spray bottles in the space in a way where they provide a bit more information of their actual function in the work. And honestly, it’s just pretty fun to get to spray an art work.

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Your creatures often look fantastical, almost sci-fi. But your references are biological. How do you move between scientific research and imagination in your work?

S.R.: I like to say that my work is part of the artistic movement called “Speculative Evolution”, but within that world I think a lot of people wouldn’t agree on that, since I take a lot of liberties and approach hard science in a very playful way. To me, a project like this becomes an entry point into understanding a new and niche corner of our planet. Before this project, I for example had no clue that sea squirts metamorphosise or what the difference between jellyfish and comb jellies were, but through my artistic practice I got to expand my knowledge and tickle my own curiosity, and I find that so exciting. It's this excitement I hope to share with the audience. So although I do find biological reality important in my work, I find it equally important to spark a sense of wonder through aesthetic choices, and my work therefore isn’t educational but rather a point of curiosity.

So the work isn’t about decay as an ending?

S.R.: Not necessarily, no. The decay is more a tracker of time passing. I also wouldn’t say that this work is about decay directly, although it’s part of the materiality. Instead the transformation happening is playing with the hierarchies we have constructed for age and size. As some parts of the installation break down and become smaller, others might expand or get revealed through the process.

" There is no true ending, until the installation is dismantled of course."

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Finally, what are you currently reading, watching, or researching that feeds into this project? Are there books or thinkers you’d recommend to someone wanting to enter your world?

S.R.: There really was no way around not reading Franz Kafka’s “Metamorphosis” while working on this topic, but it didn’t really inspire the project directly. For the past year I have been purposefully introducing more fiction into my artistic practice, since I think there is a tendency to academicise art by having to ground it in theory and non-fiction in order to explain and legitimize it. I love reading science fiction because it challenges my world view, criticises societal structures, and dares to imagine, while leaving room for me to speculate, be critical and make my own connections. This is what I aspire my artistic practice to do as well. The connections I make and the visualisation I do while reading inspires my work a lot, and some of the most impactful books for this project were “Beyond the Blue Event Horizon" by Frederik Pohl, “Area X” by Jeff Vandermeer, and “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by Philip K. Dick. Besides that I always find visual inspiration from the Hayao Miyazaki movie “Nausïcaa of the Valley of the Winds”. I would recommend everyone to watch that movie, as an introduction into my practice as much as an important perspective on humanity, war and nature.  

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Simple Adult Forms continues to unfold in Mediamatic’s Plantkamer (ground floor) over the coming year, slowly transforming as the sculptures age and change. Visitors are welcome to return and observe the installation at different moments in its life cycle, or even take part in the process themselves.

The work can be seen during Mediamatic’s opening hours (Mon–Fri from 12:00), or when visiting the restaurant.