A simple grounding: An Interview with Franzisca Siegrist
by Arild H. Eriksen
2021 // Translated from original text in Norwegian.
Franzisca Siegrist was a resident artist at the Nordic Artists' Centre Dale in the summer of 2016. For the centre’s 20th Jubilee in 2018, she produced a performance based on the work she created during her residency.
Arild H. Eriksen: First, I would like to ask you how and why you became an artist?
Franzisca Siegrist: My childhood plan was to be a dancer. I was really determined and from a young age I put everything into it – with hours and hours of training. At 15, I was accepted to a professional dance academy in Germany and moved away from my parents in Spain. Things didn’t go totally as planned, and after a year and a half, I had to leave the course because of injuries. It’s not easy to make new plans when one is so young and full of determination. It was hard moving back home: one wants to return home and show that one has achieved something – not come back as one who did not achieve. After I moved back home, I only had half a year to decide which direction I should take in my further education (high school). I had good grades and so had choices, but after a little while it came quite naturally to me that I wanted to study art. As a child, I drew a lot. When I danced, I often drew dancers that I admired. I come from an artistic family – my father was a self-taught painter and later author, while my mother ran an art gallery, and they went to many art fairs together. The stories they tell still fascinate me today! When the final year of further education was over, I needed to choose what to do next. Whatever direction I chose, it meant that I would have to move away from home again – over to the ‘big island’, Tenerife. In the end, it was a choice between two paths: two years of studying photography, or to go to university (Fine Art) and study graphic design, which took five years in the old system. I chose the latter.
2021 // Translated from original text in Norwegian.
Franzisca Siegrist was a resident artist at the Nordic Artists' Centre Dale in the summer of 2016. For the centre’s 20th Jubilee in 2018, she produced a performance based on the work she created during her residency.
Arild H. Eriksen: First, I would like to ask you how and why you became an artist?
Franzisca Siegrist: My childhood plan was to be a dancer. I was really determined and from a young age I put everything into it – with hours and hours of training. At 15, I was accepted to a professional dance academy in Germany and moved away from my parents in Spain. Things didn’t go totally as planned, and after a year and a half, I had to leave the course because of injuries. It’s not easy to make new plans when one is so young and full of determination. It was hard moving back home: one wants to return home and show that one has achieved something – not come back as one who did not achieve. After I moved back home, I only had half a year to decide which direction I should take in my further education (high school). I had good grades and so had choices, but after a little while it came quite naturally to me that I wanted to study art. As a child, I drew a lot. When I danced, I often drew dancers that I admired. I come from an artistic family – my father was a self-taught painter and later author, while my mother ran an art gallery, and they went to many art fairs together. The stories they tell still fascinate me today! When the final year of further education was over, I needed to choose what to do next. Whatever direction I chose, it meant that I would have to move away from home again – over to the ‘big island’, Tenerife. In the end, it was a choice between two paths: two years of studying photography, or to go to university (Fine Art) and study graphic design, which took five years in the old system. I chose the latter.
Why did you focus on performance? Did you see it as a continuation of dance? Both disciplines are performative.
In the first two years at university, there was a lot of repetition from the previous course. There was also a lot of classical art and very few questions about where you, yourself, wanted to go. Nevertheless, when I look back, I can see that there was a lot of ‘the body’ in what I made. In the 3rd year, I started a specialization in graphic design. During these three years, I met an unbelievable amount of exciting and creative people, and we formed a group that often met up to do things together. Amongst other things, we improvised theatre and performances in public spaces. It was all very chaotic, but it was then that I began to reconcile myself with dance. In my 4th year, I applied for an Erasmus exchange. I was supposed to go to England, but it randomly ended up that I had to go to Norway! Imagine that! The exchange was with what was then called Høyskolen i Akershus, and the programme they ran was Product Design. Although I was doing graphic design, it was a bit of a stretch to work with product design. I decided early on to make the most of all possibilities and work with everything that the school could offer me. I had never seen anything like the workshops and all the materials that were included. I came from a school where they didn’t have anything; we had to get everything for ourselves – even a hammer. Some of the rooms had broken windows, and the roof leaked... So, the school in Norway was like a paradise! After one year of experimenting with different materials, techniques and tools – and after having made models, lamps (light sculptures), ceramics and more, it was time for me to think about what I wanted to do with my final year. I was even more confused about what I wanted to work on after my year in Norway, but I didn’t want to go back to Tenerife, and I didn’t want to work in graphic design. I applied for a new exchange through Seneca/Sicue, which is through Spanish universities, and I got into the Faculty of Art at UPV in Valencia. I had a few study points left and could take three subjects. I wanted to do something that I hadn’t done before, so I went for installation, video and performance. When I read the course description for performance, it was as though something moved inside me. I thought about when I was with my friends, making these chaotic performances in the public space, but I went to the first lesson with an open mind – I had no idea what to expect. There was an older man sitting there, with a beard and a big smile. He laughed a lot. Bartolomé Ferrando*. After just a few lessons, it felt as though I had come home. Everything began to make sense – the use of the body, the visual, space, time.... the desire to use my body (as with dance) and my visual interest had come together; here I could make my own decisions about my body. I could find my own boundaries, where I could take my own body without anyone outside being able to say: ‘you have the wrong body; you don’t fit in – your feet aren’t right, your knees are wrong, your legs are too short’. I could do what I wanted and find a balance.
I had found ‘my’ discipline in the final year of art school. Thus, I moved back to Valencia and did a one-year Master in 2009-2010 with Bartolomé Ferrando as my supervisor.
* Bartolomé Ferrando taught performance art at UPV, Valencia for 30 years. Most Spanish performance artists will have been in his class. He is and will always be an important reference for Spanish performance. He has now retired from teaching, but he still works as an artist.
In the first two years at university, there was a lot of repetition from the previous course. There was also a lot of classical art and very few questions about where you, yourself, wanted to go. Nevertheless, when I look back, I can see that there was a lot of ‘the body’ in what I made. In the 3rd year, I started a specialization in graphic design. During these three years, I met an unbelievable amount of exciting and creative people, and we formed a group that often met up to do things together. Amongst other things, we improvised theatre and performances in public spaces. It was all very chaotic, but it was then that I began to reconcile myself with dance. In my 4th year, I applied for an Erasmus exchange. I was supposed to go to England, but it randomly ended up that I had to go to Norway! Imagine that! The exchange was with what was then called Høyskolen i Akershus, and the programme they ran was Product Design. Although I was doing graphic design, it was a bit of a stretch to work with product design. I decided early on to make the most of all possibilities and work with everything that the school could offer me. I had never seen anything like the workshops and all the materials that were included. I came from a school where they didn’t have anything; we had to get everything for ourselves – even a hammer. Some of the rooms had broken windows, and the roof leaked... So, the school in Norway was like a paradise! After one year of experimenting with different materials, techniques and tools – and after having made models, lamps (light sculptures), ceramics and more, it was time for me to think about what I wanted to do with my final year. I was even more confused about what I wanted to work on after my year in Norway, but I didn’t want to go back to Tenerife, and I didn’t want to work in graphic design. I applied for a new exchange through Seneca/Sicue, which is through Spanish universities, and I got into the Faculty of Art at UPV in Valencia. I had a few study points left and could take three subjects. I wanted to do something that I hadn’t done before, so I went for installation, video and performance. When I read the course description for performance, it was as though something moved inside me. I thought about when I was with my friends, making these chaotic performances in the public space, but I went to the first lesson with an open mind – I had no idea what to expect. There was an older man sitting there, with a beard and a big smile. He laughed a lot. Bartolomé Ferrando*. After just a few lessons, it felt as though I had come home. Everything began to make sense – the use of the body, the visual, space, time.... the desire to use my body (as with dance) and my visual interest had come together; here I could make my own decisions about my body. I could find my own boundaries, where I could take my own body without anyone outside being able to say: ‘you have the wrong body; you don’t fit in – your feet aren’t right, your knees are wrong, your legs are too short’. I could do what I wanted and find a balance.
I had found ‘my’ discipline in the final year of art school. Thus, I moved back to Valencia and did a one-year Master in 2009-2010 with Bartolomé Ferrando as my supervisor.
* Bartolomé Ferrando taught performance art at UPV, Valencia for 30 years. Most Spanish performance artists will have been in his class. He is and will always be an important reference for Spanish performance. He has now retired from teaching, but he still works as an artist.
You have an international background. How does this influence your practice?
I was born in Switzerland and grew up in the Canary Islands in Spain. My first day of school was in Spain. I spoke Spanish at school (and with my brother), but Swiss-German at home with my parents and at family gatherings. In addition, as mentioned, I lived in Germany for almost two years when I was a teenager. Now I have lived over ten years in Norway (plus one year as a student). This background has influenced my practice in how I experience, see and understand the world. I can feel at home anywhere. I’m a kind of chameleon and can blend in, yet at the same time I don’t feel myself a part of any society. I don’t have a national identity; I don’t belong. I am interested in themes such as identity and belonging because I think that they are exciting themes that move me. I can’t make art out of something that I don’t have an experience of – it’s too far away. I think that we artists often create art out of the things we are directly touched by – how we perceive what we have around us and how we experience society. Yet, I don’t see my work as autobiographical. It doesn’t talk directly about me as a person or my life, but it encompasses themes that I have experience of and shows my point of view in an open and broad perspective. In this way, the spectator can create for themselves their own opinion and story.
Can you say anything about how you develop a new performance? Are there some things in common with the working method for each piece, or do you start from scratch every time?
My performances have different things in common, such as materials that are repeated, or with a type of formal structure. My works are often frontally composed and have a clear beginning on one side of the space, and an ending on the other. These elements form tight lines and a worked through composition. I see myself and my body as an element within the performance, a material and a tool that can be put to use. When I am in the process of creating a new performance, I think about: how it will be shown, what kind of space, in which country, who will see it and in what context/festival? I don’t use language in my performances. This means that I can reach a lot of people through visual expression, but of course what signifies one thing to me can mean something completely different in another culture. I try to be neutral and work with really simple materials, shapes and movements. The wish is that it will get the spectator to think, to question or maybe find an answer. I also work with abstract elements that can provide a purely aesthetic experience in a similar way to a sculpture or a painting. I think many people feel that they must understand art, but I hope that my performances can also be experienced as a sort of journey through feelings and images and that one can be drawn into a bubble for a short while.
I was born in Switzerland and grew up in the Canary Islands in Spain. My first day of school was in Spain. I spoke Spanish at school (and with my brother), but Swiss-German at home with my parents and at family gatherings. In addition, as mentioned, I lived in Germany for almost two years when I was a teenager. Now I have lived over ten years in Norway (plus one year as a student). This background has influenced my practice in how I experience, see and understand the world. I can feel at home anywhere. I’m a kind of chameleon and can blend in, yet at the same time I don’t feel myself a part of any society. I don’t have a national identity; I don’t belong. I am interested in themes such as identity and belonging because I think that they are exciting themes that move me. I can’t make art out of something that I don’t have an experience of – it’s too far away. I think that we artists often create art out of the things we are directly touched by – how we perceive what we have around us and how we experience society. Yet, I don’t see my work as autobiographical. It doesn’t talk directly about me as a person or my life, but it encompasses themes that I have experience of and shows my point of view in an open and broad perspective. In this way, the spectator can create for themselves their own opinion and story.
Can you say anything about how you develop a new performance? Are there some things in common with the working method for each piece, or do you start from scratch every time?
My performances have different things in common, such as materials that are repeated, or with a type of formal structure. My works are often frontally composed and have a clear beginning on one side of the space, and an ending on the other. These elements form tight lines and a worked through composition. I see myself and my body as an element within the performance, a material and a tool that can be put to use. When I am in the process of creating a new performance, I think about: how it will be shown, what kind of space, in which country, who will see it and in what context/festival? I don’t use language in my performances. This means that I can reach a lot of people through visual expression, but of course what signifies one thing to me can mean something completely different in another culture. I try to be neutral and work with really simple materials, shapes and movements. The wish is that it will get the spectator to think, to question or maybe find an answer. I also work with abstract elements that can provide a purely aesthetic experience in a similar way to a sculpture or a painting. I think many people feel that they must understand art, but I hope that my performances can also be experienced as a sort of journey through feelings and images and that one can be drawn into a bubble for a short while.
What about physical space? How does the physical place where you will perform influence the work?
The space is one of the most important things in the process. The point when I really begin to make a new performance is when I have an invitation to exhibit, and I know how the work will be shown. I look at images and if the place is nearby, I go there in person. If I can’t see the space before I arrive, I work from the images, but the final work won’t be fully finished until I am physically there. Then things fall into place, and I am in a dialogue with the site. I like to exploit what the space has to offer, such as doors, windows, columns, corners, tiles, stairs, etc. and integrate these things into the work. Simultaneously, it is often the case that some materials are bought or found on site and are used to compose the outcome. For example, I have used plants that I either found in gardens close by or bought locally. So, the site characterises the performance and how I experience it.
You say that you always have a dialogue with the site when you develop your projects, but is there a red thread running through them? Is there anything that you would say is a kind of platform for your practice?
My performances always build on previous work – maybe as a kind of series. I bring something with me from an earlier performance: an element, a movement, or materials – that then become a new work. I re-circulate many materials. So, in that way, the project does have a red thread running through. If one were to see all the performances together, one would see a development. It is also a way to start and finish with the project. More generally, my artistic practice deals with my interest in contemporary philosophy and how we humans live in our time. I reflect, and out of these reflections arise many questions that shape the works. The message is perhaps a little like my background: that I want to say a lot and that, like a chameleon, I can fit into many theories and concepts, but simultaneously do not fit into any specific category.
The space is one of the most important things in the process. The point when I really begin to make a new performance is when I have an invitation to exhibit, and I know how the work will be shown. I look at images and if the place is nearby, I go there in person. If I can’t see the space before I arrive, I work from the images, but the final work won’t be fully finished until I am physically there. Then things fall into place, and I am in a dialogue with the site. I like to exploit what the space has to offer, such as doors, windows, columns, corners, tiles, stairs, etc. and integrate these things into the work. Simultaneously, it is often the case that some materials are bought or found on site and are used to compose the outcome. For example, I have used plants that I either found in gardens close by or bought locally. So, the site characterises the performance and how I experience it.
You say that you always have a dialogue with the site when you develop your projects, but is there a red thread running through them? Is there anything that you would say is a kind of platform for your practice?
My performances always build on previous work – maybe as a kind of series. I bring something with me from an earlier performance: an element, a movement, or materials – that then become a new work. I re-circulate many materials. So, in that way, the project does have a red thread running through. If one were to see all the performances together, one would see a development. It is also a way to start and finish with the project. More generally, my artistic practice deals with my interest in contemporary philosophy and how we humans live in our time. I reflect, and out of these reflections arise many questions that shape the works. The message is perhaps a little like my background: that I want to say a lot and that, like a chameleon, I can fit into many theories and concepts, but simultaneously do not fit into any specific category.
What was it that motivated you to apply for a residency at NKD?
I’ve always been interested in doing different residencies. There is something special about having a concentrated working period, without daily interruptions, that gives an internal calm and the peace to work. It’s also a unique possibility to have access to a larger studio than one otherwise might have the means for. My studio in Oslo is very small and there are limitations to what I can work with or test out. NKD is additionally special, since the architecture is specifically designed to house artists, which makes the conditions ideal. I also applied to NKD because I am interested in residencies that are a bit outside the big cities and are close to nature. Nature gives me inspiration and is a reminder of what is important in life.
Did you get to accomplish what you had planned, or did your work take an unexpected turn?
I applied with the hope of having a larger space and room to research larger projects and installations. I came with some specific ideas that I wanted to test. I got to test these out quite quickly. Therefore, the process began to move in other directions. I got to do more with photography than with installation. I always create small installations for my performances, but to document the process suddenly became the main focus. I took over 3000 pictures during the residency. Many of them are very process-based, but some of them also function as work. Through this, my interest in performance photography has been strengthened, and I have taken this further in my work.
I’ve always been interested in doing different residencies. There is something special about having a concentrated working period, without daily interruptions, that gives an internal calm and the peace to work. It’s also a unique possibility to have access to a larger studio than one otherwise might have the means for. My studio in Oslo is very small and there are limitations to what I can work with or test out. NKD is additionally special, since the architecture is specifically designed to house artists, which makes the conditions ideal. I also applied to NKD because I am interested in residencies that are a bit outside the big cities and are close to nature. Nature gives me inspiration and is a reminder of what is important in life.
Did you get to accomplish what you had planned, or did your work take an unexpected turn?
I applied with the hope of having a larger space and room to research larger projects and installations. I came with some specific ideas that I wanted to test. I got to test these out quite quickly. Therefore, the process began to move in other directions. I got to do more with photography than with installation. I always create small installations for my performances, but to document the process suddenly became the main focus. I took over 3000 pictures during the residency. Many of them are very process-based, but some of them also function as work. Through this, my interest in performance photography has been strengthened, and I have taken this further in my work.
Performance is a time and place-based art form, where the physical space can influence the course of action, as you have also emphasized. NKD lies, practically speaking, right in the middle of nature, surrounded by forests and mountains. At the same time, the artists work in a very strict architectural space. How did this affect your working process? What was the balance between these two different energies?
Both the space/studio and nature influenced what I did. I believe that we humans are generally influenced by what is around us, as well as the time that we live in. In my performance work, I always work site specifically. It’s always the space and the site that have the last word. The studio at NKD is very neutral with good light, which led my more minimalistic works to gain a little bit more attention in the process. I have often made use of soil and plants in my work, but during the residency this was maybe even more present, almost as though nature came into the studio through the window. I remember that I had imagined making more work outside, but since we had a typical "Vestland" summer with lots of rain, it came to be less than I had thought. So, it was also the weather that influenced the process. Although now I look back, I see that it was an unbelievably productive period at NKD, and I haven’t really experienced such concentrated productivity since then.
Both the space/studio and nature influenced what I did. I believe that we humans are generally influenced by what is around us, as well as the time that we live in. In my performance work, I always work site specifically. It’s always the space and the site that have the last word. The studio at NKD is very neutral with good light, which led my more minimalistic works to gain a little bit more attention in the process. I have often made use of soil and plants in my work, but during the residency this was maybe even more present, almost as though nature came into the studio through the window. I remember that I had imagined making more work outside, but since we had a typical "Vestland" summer with lots of rain, it came to be less than I had thought. So, it was also the weather that influenced the process. Although now I look back, I see that it was an unbelievably productive period at NKD, and I haven’t really experienced such concentrated productivity since then.
At NKD, there are always 5 artists in residence. That is to say. there is a group of artists present that work within different disciplines. Would you say that this is something that you drew on while you were producing work?
I had many very inspiring conversations with the other artists and there was also a lot of good academic and conceptual input. One is asked new questions that trigger new ideas, and put one’s work into perspective, which may influence the work further. I think that since one is in the place one is, the other artists become a very important part of the residency.
Did the residency at NKD have any impact on your ongoing practice and activity?
The residency had a lot of impact on my ongoing practice. It was there that I developed the project ‘Route of Roots’. I had already had some thoughts about this, but in 2016, I decided that I would take a little turn in my practice, which in retrospect I see was not so big. All I was doing was to ground and strengthen my work. ‘Route of Roots’ blossomed during the residency at NKD. It got its title there and I wrote the first project description. The wooden boxes that I then used in many more of my performances were also produced in Dale.
What about ‘Route of Roots’ today? Is it still in development?
‘Route of Roots’ was finalised as a performance project in 2019, with ‘Route of Roots (abstractions)’ at Arteriet in Kristiansand. I have called this performance a transition-performance. ‘Route of Roots’ has been a long-time project and I have found that I am able to work with a format that stretches out over a longer period. It gives more room for research. So, the transition-performance also marked the beginning of a new project titled ‘Sculptural Abstractions’ that I am working on now.* This project is a continuation, just as I said earlier. I work in such a way that I always build upon a previous work and re-circulate material. So, some elements of ‘Route of Roots’ are also visible in ‘Sculptural Abstractions’.
However, I am not totally finished with ‘Route of Roots’ yet, as I am currently working on a book, where the project is being summarized, with texts, photographs, drawings and sketches.*
* "Sculptural abstractions" was finalized in 2022.
* The book "Route of Roots (2016-2019)" was published in March 2023, more info HERE
All images from the residency at NKD in 2016.
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