Portfolio: Sage Serrano
For artist Sage Serrano, drawing can be anything and everything; all its forms coexist and evolve within her practice. Drawing extends beyond its function as a verb, the action of a line moving between two points. In Serrano’s work, this line connects her physical body to the materials she collects, through the action of drawing. The familiarity of drawing and of found materials pulls viewers into the work, inviting us to question the relationship among the artist, the body, and the chosen materials, all tied together with a marked line.
Throughout Serrano’s portfolio, sections labeled “Works on Paper,” “Sculptures,” and “Drawings” include works that beg us to question what defines a sculpture compared to a drawing. Each section folds into the other as we see works on paper, some with marks manipulated by the hand, others with marks that appear inherent to the found paper itself. Some works extend from the wall – recognizable paper bags mysteriously protrude perpendicular to the wall. Other drawings exist within cardboard boxes, humbly peeking through corrugated tears. Serrano collects these materials, observing their aesthetic properties and innate histories, and elevates them with her time and careful attention. Meticulous folds impose order on softened cardboard, while gentle thread lines through tissue paper capture the artist’s patience.
Found, often discarded materials, free Serrano from the anxiety that new things can bring. A fresh sheet of expensive drawing paper assumes a preciousness. It asks the artist to be perfect from the start of creation, often heavy with the assumption that they illustrate idealized bodies modeled from Western canons. The act of drawing on a sacred surface frequently becomes self-conscious and stiff. Foraged, used materials – such as paper bags, boxes, and packing materials – allow for a connection between their inherent history and Serrano’s current collecting. A piece of cardboard may already be scarred, marked with past use and purpose. In her recent series, re(drawn), Serrano sees this material scarring as an invitation to view paper as we see our bodies. Without the presumed expectations of a fresh sheet of drawing paper, there is a freedom to meet these found materials and celebrate them as they are. In her artist statement for re(drawn), Serrano writes, “Paper remembers like the body. Folding paper creates a crease that cannot be removed, similarly to how a cut may leave a scar. The scar may fade but it will always mark the surface.” A mark made to a page may never be fully erased— it becomes a part of the material’s story, forever altering its composition.
Most recently, Serrano has used drawing as a tool to demarcate her body’s sensations before and after a recent trauma and emergency surgery. Her own body’s scarring draws her to the marks that can be respectfully made on discarded, seemingly worthless, found materials. The time she gives to her materials through sewing, folding, and staining creates space for the material’s innate scars to shine. Rather than covering up blemishes, Serrano listens to each found mark, responding with humble reciprocity. Her conversations with each material elevate them by bringing attention to and enhancing their inherent beauty.
In her conscientious response to each found material, Serrano creates a preciousness out of things we deem to be waste. To escape the pressure of the pristine sheet of drawing paper, Serrano’s work finds itself atop the pedestal, nonetheless. By documenting her body’s journey through mark making, each piece becomes an inherent part of Serrano’s personal story. However, the memories she portrays will fade as the cardboard continues to decay. Handmade paper and recycled cardboard are biodegradable, eventually degrading, as are our human bodies. There is a sustainability to Serrano’s practice that emphasizes the fragile beauty in making non-archival work, a beauty parallel to our body’s experience through life and loss. Each material is brought to a level of worth through the marks, folds, and creases in each piece; yet there is a humble knowing of time, of the eventual return to the corner recycling bin, of the inescapable cycle of life.
— Sofia Gonzalez, artist. Gonzalez was a participant in the 2021 HereIn Writers Workshop.