Improvisational Puzzles of Gravity and Color: Ser Serpas’s Sculptures Born from Waste
American artist Ser Serpas works across a variety of media, but she is best known for her singular sculptural works. Assembled from discarded materials found on the street, these pieces are held together by gravity alone—free of nails or adhesives. Recently visiting Japan for a two-person exhibition with Rafik Greiss, Serpas invites us into her world. What lies behind her untamed production process, and how does her unique aesthetic manage to elude strict conceptual interpretation?

American artist Ser Serpas pursues unique expression while exploring various media, from sculpture and painting to performance and poetry. "clockwork," a two-person exhibition with Egyptian-born artist Rafik Greiss, is currently on view at Taka Ishii Gallery Kyobashi until April 25.
Serpas creates works in many forms, but she is perhaps most famous for her sculptures. Often creating site-specific works, she has previously built three-dimensional pieces by collecting discarded everyday items and appliances from the streets of the various cities where her exhibitions are held. For "clockwork," objects collected in Japan—such as from under elevated tracks in Kawasaki City, Kanagawa Prefecture—have been reconstructed into new forms by her hands.
How does she conceive these creations, which piece together randomly encountered street objects like a puzzle, guided by her unique aesthetic? The response from Serpas upon her arrival in Japan was an impulse for the "hunt"—physical and wild—that escapes conceptual meaning-making.
ARTnews JAPAN: This is your second collaboration with Rafik Greiss, who is exhibiting photography this time.
Ser Serpas: Rafik and I are like siblings; we get along so well, and he inspires me. When we held the exhibition "Hall" at the Swiss Institute in New York in 2023, I collaborated with him on some of the works. We exhibited photos that looked like a chaotic fashion magazine, where I styled my hair like Sadako from the horror movie The Ring and ran around a forest in Paris collecting trash. Since there were no sculptural works at all, it was poorly received by audience members who came expecting sculptures (laughs).
Tell us about the inspiration for this exhibition.
It started with the contractor trucks we saw in the streets of Japan. While we were walking around the city, we were drawn to the way they loaded massive amounts of trash using wooden panels and ropes. Initially, there was an idea to surround the gallery with panels, but that plan was eventually dropped to maintain the balance of the overall space. That said, I am always creating the space in resonance with him.
The Impulse for the Hunt and the Origin of Sculpture
What was the trigger that led you to start making sculptures using found objects and discarded items?
The first thing I was obsessed with making was work using fabric. This was back when I was working in the fashion industry in New York; I would get unwanted clothes from stylists and friends working at places like Women’s History Museum or the fashion brand VAQUERA. I would take torn T-shirts, bandanas, or scraps of fur and wrap them around chairs I had picked up off the street. For me, the clothes used as material were the object of interest, and the found objects were merely the supporting cast.
From there, why did you start using discarded items exclusively?
The honest answer might be that the painting exhibition planned in Miami was so terrible (laughs). In 2017, when I was set to hold my first solo exhibition during Art Basel Miami, I ran out of the clothes that served as the material for my fabric works. I thought, "Okay, I'll just try painting for now," and finished six paintings in a week, but my friend was horrified, saying, "You can't put these out for your first solo show."
Did you not consider buying materials?
That friend told me to go buy materials at a thrift store, but for me, art-making isn't that kind of process. It’s something that exists on top of the relationship between my friends' goodwill and my own slight hoarding habit.
Right at that time, I heard that a neighbor had been evicted from their house, and I went to see the household goods that had been put out on the lawn. I liked everything. They were a bit damp from the Miami humidity, and the color palette was all there. I brought it all into the gallery and, while drinking several energy drinks, spent the whole night twisting and bending found objects to create my first exhibition of sculptural works. I became completely obsessed with that method. By the way, the paintings also sold out within a year, so they couldn't have been that bad!
Why discarded items? Is there a message or a specific reason?
Simply because administrative work is a hassle (laughs). If you pay for materials, you have to deal with invoices, estimates, and expense reports. Just thinking about it is horrifying.
Also, I love the thrill of the hunt. When I come to a new place, I wonder where everyone throws their trash. In Switzerland, I used the bulky waste collection schedule to gather everything in one night, and in Japan, I visited Kawasaki several times and realized I just needed to go where the bridges were. When it comes to how people throw things away, I’m an expert.

Puzzles Assembled by Gravity
When looking for materials, is there any conceptual idea in your mind, or an awareness of reading the story behind the material?
It is a purely visual judgment; I don’t do any anthropological research. The important thing is whether it "clicks" into holes or gaps like a puzzle piece. My works use no nails or glue; everything is supported by gravity alone.
As a visual standard, is there anything you are particularly fastidious about?
The color palette is very important. Whether it’s the greens in this exhibition or sculptures using car parts, if there isn't a pop of color in every sculpture I make, it feels weird. This is entirely a matter of my personal preference and aesthetic taste. It has to be chic.
So, when I gather parts, it feels exactly like I'm making a painting palette. It’s a palette of form and a palette of appearance. Even if I collect 70 beautiful things that fit together perfectly in shape, if only two of them have color, I won't finish it. Because I don't want to make something like that.

Fascinated by the Process, Not the Theory
What was your trigger for entering the art world? Was there a strong message you wanted to convey, and art just happened to be the medium?
I’ve learned how to demonstrate talent in various things, but I’ve always been very confident in "making things" from the start. I want to make as much as possible. It’s great exercise, and it’s truly fulfilling as a practice. My production is physical and kinetic. Maybe I should have learned dance or an instrument, but this is an act I love; it’s very calming for me.
So, as for a strong message embedded in the work, there isn't much. I like thinking about scenarios and stories, and lately, I’ve been trying to increase those elements. But basically, I see it as an opportunity to exhibit my own work born from a formal process, not theory.
In addition to sculpture, you produce work across multiple media, such as the paintings in this exhibition.
I get bored with whatever I do very quickly. Originally, I was studying urban planning, but I got bored and transferred to Visual Arts at Columbia University. I had to work on collage, performance, and sculpture on different days, so I would submit a drawing I’d incorporated into a performance as my painting assignment, and then submit that same thing as my sculpture assignment to cut my workload in half (laughs).
But that wasn't because I wanted to be lazy; it was because I wanted to do many things at once and capture everything I could do by laying it all out on the page. Many of my works are still born from an improvisational process.
What is the most exciting moment in the production process?
The entire time I'm making the work is everything. Of course, there are times when I hate it, like when I'm carrying a discarded sofa while covered in sweat and mud. But the moment I step back and ask, "Isn't this great?" or "Everyone who helped, what do you think?" is irresistible. I don't care much about what happens after it’s exhibited.
How do you decide what project to work on next? Also, as an artist, do you have a specific goal or a point you are aiming to reach?
I try to choose challenging projects that expand my expression rather than repeating what I’ve done in the past. In other words, I often prioritize opportunities to produce on-site or collaborations that develop new dynamics and processes. I also consider how far I can push the range of materials and media within each environment. Of course, the budget is also a very important factor in terms of what can be done.

Ser Serpas + Rafik Greiss "Clockwork"
Mar 21 (Sat) 2026-Apr 25 (Sat) 2026
Taka Ishii Gallery Kyobashi
https://www.takaishiigallery.com/en/







