METTE STERRE: INTERVIEW

8/21/2026 By Monica Moran

In an interview with Mette Sterre she discusses the performative space as an entry point (and the freedom to leave). As well as the future and the prescribed cure for poverty.

MM: When we were talking before, you mentioned that you believed New York is the future? Because I would think it would be the opposite; that Europe would be more progressive or the Netherlands would be a more progressive territory, but you're saying it's due to the diversity here?

MS: Yes and I think maybe it's not only exclusively New York, but I think also cities like Sao Paolo or London, or Barcelona or Tokyo. The most futuristic would be China, or Seoul in Korea, where there are such huge development investments in things like futuristic tech. 

The future is everywhere. The future is now. But I do believe that living in a melting pot where so many different cultures fuse, which, for example, Seoul does not have that they have a focus on investing in getting that. 

But I think any conglomeration of a lot of people will bring new ideas. And I think historically, New York does have that melting pot because of colonization; but also because it attracted all the people who left their countries for a better or another life.

MM: I've lived outside of New York and I think it's vitally important to have an intersection of opinions, not one monolithic voice. And I agree with you. That is hopefully the future. So in the intro of your performance, How to catch an octopus in a broken heart, you, the performer, as an actual human presence approaching the structure, stood out to me. It stood out in a way that made me ask why? What was the reason you documented the approach in that format? Rather than just cut straight to the performance within the structure?

MS: It's interesting, because I didn't do my own edits, my friend edited it. I think in the original performance with this particular setup for many performances, I always adapted to the context or I experimented or tried to figure out what else could be done. But inherently, the walk was part of the performance. And in the past, in other ways, the first time it was performed, it was also laying out this timeline and then showing it. It's showing the transformativeness of that human being entangled and transforming into a non-human, by being enveloped in all these tubes and lines. And I think then to understand, as a viewer, the different constructions that are being made through the movement. It is to “give away”--it's like revealing a magic trick.

In the past, I would often not show the transformation. I would hide the transformation, the character, the creatures or the entities. They would just arrive and already be non-human.

And I think now, especially with this performance, I think it is about being entangled.

It's in the entanglement, we also transform into something else, right? Like if it's an obsessive love that we have, or if it's thoughts, I think in general, being an obsessive person myself, it's also like this. Showing that. So I guess it's not only an embodied experience, but how these obsessions could transform you into something else.

That's why it's important to show the human presence going into this otherworldly and then it's also about losing the human in that sense, because you can't see that human shape anymore as soon as it goes into it and it kind of evolves and it emerges and reveals.

MM: That description reminds me of Baudrillard who wrote a lot about when people drive, they become an extension of the car. That's what we talked about later in your other performance. 

So the title also seems important. How to catch, I'm stopping at catch, which is really current and what seems relevant right now in New York galleries. And you can ask me why I think that is so, but this is really your interview. Do you agree that this framework seems to be significant in American art specifically? 

MS: I guess I would first want to ask you why you think that catching is current? But maybe I can give my interpretation of the question and then you can affirm and or–maybe you want to tell me first? I've been in New York now for almost five months.

And of course I feel very privileged having come from the Netherlands. 

And in that sense we can argue within what future are we talking about? But then being in the Netherlands, I get to make this kind of “wacky” or (I don't want to say wacky), more experimental, non-sellable work. So it can be just a bit more wild. I can do these performances because there's also a funding situation or institutions pay you to do these things. So I'm less dependent on having to sell my work in that sense.

Already from the start I am performing so you're buying that work.

When people say, “oh, you could just like come and show up” and I say, no, no, you're getting work that—

MM: A commission?

MS: Yes. So your commission “needs to do this thing.” That would change. That also helps me to experiment more, like making big installations, which is also not the most commercially sellable form of art. And in New York, maybe you're more dependent on also having to sell. From what I understand. But I don't know, maybe that's my basic interpretation and I've not delved enough into galleries. There's also such a broad range of different galleries. There's like the big galleries, like Pace and Hauser & Wirth and Gagosian. And of course they represent all these superstars and they can do very experimental work, but they can show big work that is maybe aimed at a different market. And then I think based on the infrastructure, then I think also galleries do here represent experimental practices. So there, I think the function of a gallery is different here than if I were to compare it in Netherlands, because we have more segregation in that the galleries are also promoting artists and get them into collections, but there's not one gallery in the Netherlands, for example, that has a space like Pace gallery; like not even in terms of size. So I think that also then, the catching 9how to catch), if you're in a big city like New York, you also want to catch the next big thing, right?

You want to discover the talent before anybody else has it. But you also want to catch that person that you feel is upcoming.

Maybe because it's also so big, it's harder to capture anything. So you're looking at it from a standpoint of how to find the next big trend. 

MM: (laughs) I'm thinking like prison, like you're going to be caught in a very Americana way. Because it's so related to the galleries and I think KARMA. Americans are so honed in on social media, particularly on being arrested randomly, (like ICE) you know. I read a report that the mid-tier level is now absent in American galleries. When I was at SVA, there were the mid-tier level galleries like the Bellewether people or the Vanderbeeks from The Cooper Union, where a lot of MFA students could show their art, people would go, hopefully be seen by a collector or get a review. Maybe like 2% or 1% of us would get a group show. But, you know, there was that window or that path. Now it's missing. There is no mid-tier level according to this one report. 

I have to verify my facts but the report acknowledged that Damien Hirst going straight to auction changed a lot of that platform, among other things, resulting in that outcome. So now we've got some market behaviors like privately funded, special interest kind of stuff down at the bottom and we've got Zwirner and Gagosian. And, you know, like you said, Hauser & Wirth, huge, huge galleries that are just kind of like holding on to the stars they have. I don't know if they're developing artists. Like cherry picking? Usually out of MFA programs or the ivies. That's how it was when I was in school.

I don't know what their new thing is. Usually a big outlet like Zwirner used to rely heavily on critics. Like when Jerry and Roberta would give a thumbs up to anybody, they were immediately transformed into currency. I don't really know who's at, you know, the front end of evaluating or catching? And again as paranoid Americans.

MS: Like, why would you make the connection with the gallery system? 

MM: They're heavily armed and guarded now. But really in reality, they're heavily guarded. They have a lot of guards, security guards. Not so much armed. So if somebody were to like cause a scene in the gallery, I could easily see, you know, like an ICE detention out the back door, you know, or something like that with so many tourists.

MS: I'm very aware that they're there, but it's interesting living in the West village. I know apparently there's some near the parked cars, but of course you don't feel the same tension in this, it's quite a white area, and I think I found my neighbor who works in the full and wash service, who was from Mexico. And I found him one day like crying. I said, “Oh my God”, like also quite drunk. I was like, “are you okay? What's going on?” And he's said, “Yeah, we love this country”. Then your initial response was like, “Oh my God, like one of his friends might get captured by ICE.” Or when you see the missing people notes, you're like, “Oh my God, did this person get captured by ICE?” But I don't know if I would if I would draw the parallel.

MM: It's terrible. So my first interpretation was “how to catch what?” But you're using catch in a different context, like how to catch a broken heart, how to catch a cold, you know, like there's so many different versions of it.

MS: It's true. I mean, and also this work is from 2021. So this was even before ICE was a thing. And also it is still during COVID. So it's maybe more referencing that too. 

But it's also about how you deal with unattainability in that sense. I think that's where the idea also came from, about this measuring of space continuously, how close you could be with somebody in proximity. How do you relate to people who are maybe not emotionally available? You know, it's about not being able to reach something, right? Like it's also about a Fata Morgana? Is it an English term? How do you catch something that doesn't want to be held? 

Because of course with a broken heart this is also so. It also has this language of how to catch a cold or a disease indeed. 

The Japanese–that's going on to the second part of the title; how to catch an octopus? Octopodes are really good at distraction. And their way to not be caught is that they use their ink or they transform. So they become one with the landscape and they change color. So most octopuses, even though they're colorblind, they can sense their surroundings so they can become the floor in that they can copy patterns and structures.

MM: That's amazing. 

MS: What they also do to escape when they are under attack. In order for them to become so flexible and transformative, they have to lose their outer shells. They're related to slugs as well. They all have outer shells, right? And that will be their protection? The octopus often lives in a den, they're solitary creatures so in a way to catch the octopus, you use distraction, metamorphosis, or just behaving erratically, and it would hide in a den. Octopuses are nocturnal. So you will only see them when you do a night dive. So when you want to look for octopuses, if they're sleeping, they're often in little crevices or on a rock or like in a little cave. So the Japanese vase is made for these octopuses to hide in. And that's how they catch an octopus because it's really hard to catch them. 

And when people have a broken heart, when they have love, when they're lovesick, or they're mourning, or they're, you know, they're really sad. The heart is the only organ that can actually change form based on the emotions. 

MM: What about the brain? 

MS: Is the brain an organ though?

MM: Yes. 

MS: But the brain does not change its shape. So the heart, it's called Japanese vase syndrome, or broken heart syndrome, Japanese vase. The heart normally is a bit more like this, right? But when it gets sad, it can kind of become droopy where it's heavier underneath and more pointer on top. And that's what this Japanese vase looks like. 

So the brain, of course, can change pathways and synapses. And I guess parts of it can die, but it's not like the brain, and the brain could shrink a bit, but it doesn't change its shape. 

MM: So there's an entire narrative that coexists with the work? Within this kind of fairytale that is just so poetic. You can tell you're one of those artists that curators love, grant writers love, you know, narrative and fantasy and poetry and beauty. So I ask, why am I thinking about prisons? 

MS: I don't mind the prison because I guess at the time as well, I was like being in a really difficult situationship. So I guess also this title is dealing with this unattainable person.

And, when we're enthralled by something, or when we're mourning, if we're going through loss, it is also something similar to being imprisoned by something. It's not like being free; you're entangled. Entanglement can be really beautiful if it's loving.

MM: Well, there's the Jeremy Bentham aspect of the design of the prison being the vase that was, you know, developed by the Japanese. The Japanese went to the trouble to design this very specific to the whole life cycle of the octopus? As you mentioned, which in itself is very Bentham-esque in how to design a prison. 

MS: Yes.

MM: But your take on it is quite beautiful, you know, and that's what makes art great. There's a beauty to the art that has a life of its own for no other reason than its own beauty.

MS: It's true, but I do like that you're mentioning the prison aspect because actually being caught by something in this broken vase, in this broken heart, is imprisoning this beautiful animal. And also, the colors are not happy. It's all gray and it's in this industrial place. And I've performed it, for most viewers, like on scaffolding or like in industrial spaces. That's why I also love industrial places. I'm very happy when people say, “we have this  industrial place.” I'm like, “yes. Oh, they're perfect for that.” Because often they're big and they're rough and they are white cubes. I think there's a lot of power in white cube spaces. And I think we also white cube spaces in industrial spaces. So they're not quite together. but I think there's so much of, “I would paint this entire standard gray floor and I got like an object on a pedestal.” There is so much; I must respect this because we're just conditioned to understand that this is. 

MM: We're seeing with our mind, not our eyes?

MS: Yes. We're conditioned. This must be important.

MM: Or very bad.

MS: Yeah To do that.

MM: Artists especially.

MS: So I also like the idea that there is something like a prison because of course it is also quite suffocating. 

Once I performed it in a building in London–which maybe has some old footage actually (which was during Frieze).  Now it's interesting to also think about the different locations. The building in London was cut up so it was just like ledges of floors that the audience could stand up on and then that building was a half demolished building, basically. 

And that it happened in London was crazy because health and safety regulations are always insane there. You have to have a risk assessment. So it was kind of really punk, but we just did it. Because this amazing Mexican curator, Javier, runs this space near Houston we had it for one night. It was curated by Rosie Gibbons, an amazing artist. I had all these tentacles that also became the “intestines of the building” and it was just dripping out because it was on the third floor. It was so interesting. Then it became much more about the relationship with this building and the building as a house that was demolished. 

But again, also this building being free, so does the meaning also change? That is interesting to think about. Like this grayness I guess in most of the work. There is always a bit of a dystopian sadness. I mean I think everybody in the works are really lonely. They're lonely.

MM: This next question pertains to the middle of the performance. You scale and embrace a concrete pillar. 

MS: Yes. 

MM: And is that symbolic of a type of artifice that maybe online interactions present? Or lack of purpose due to AI within a dystopian theme? Or is it purely abstract?

MS: It's also just how to make these tubes fall. They look as it's aesthetic. But there's also something about climbing and like the struggle of getting up there. Right. Which also creates tension.

MM: But you embrace this concrete pillar for a while? Like you hold on to it and you lead the viewer with the title broken heart. It suggests you're holding with a broken heart? Is that interpretation true? If not, it was purely aesthetic? You were simply trying to place the tubes?

MS: Well the first time I performed this piece was on a higher platform. So there is something about making them droop, right? So they just create a different form and you create a different creature. You kind of can understand the mechanics of it? But they're also really unpredictable. So there's always a change. Like you can't really control how they behave, but you kind of know that if I do this, it will change like that. 

So there is some sort of loose structure within the performance, that you can't really predict. I always improvise unless I work with other people, then you can't really. 

I wouldn't say like jazz music because jazz has rules, but there's not so much rules. But I think there is something interesting about how you interact with the space and also the limitation of the space, because when I scaled the pillar there was nothing to stand on. So there's also the practicality of having to hold on to something. 

I guess in all the performances, there's always been elements of climbing onto something or other. And once we did the performance on a scaffolding so the climbing was definitely a part of it. There's always an element of elevation in the performance, no matter where we've performed.

MM: It's almost like you're using the title as a deceptive form of entrapment for the viewer because you have a broken heart. You know, you're mentioning a broken heart, you're embracing this cement block. And yet you're saying it's purely an availability heuristic. You're like, “oh, I just needed to use the block for my climb” and you're kind of entrapping us with your poetry.

MS: Well, no, because I'm saying, yes I had to hold on to it. But when you climb there's inherently a risk of falling or even falling in love. It's good to ask this question because then it also means it's not only aesthetic. There is tension in climbing up to something and having to hold on. It also has to do with the anxiety of falling. But I would say the titles are indeed poetic. I mean, there's the thoughts behind them and it's not like, oh, it's nothing. 

It's just that the title describes many things for me. And I read about a lot of things, but it's not necessary for my viewers to know all these things. So I want to give people a direction, but I love that it's open enough for people to have their own thoughts.

Once we did a performance on scaffolding at this festival. And the duration of the performance is sometimes two hours, right? So there's just as many random things that you just kind of encounter. It can be that, I don't like a person. A child comes in or people start interacting with the tubes. So there's also a space for that. But then one time there was somebody who said “it's about letting go in love”. And she got that just from her own mindset. 

So I think the climbing definitely has a function and holding on to the thing, but I don't know if it is necessarily in that moment. I'm going to do this because it means this and this. But also of course you have to hold on to climb.

MM: So your title isn't metaphoric to the vase that traps the octopus. It's not like a design language model to engage the viewer in a heuristic? You know, like you said, the mindset the viewer brings to art. But this doesn’t have to be about love. It’s not like the narrative is set and this is what it's about?

MS: No. It is free for everybody. But I need to have some sort of structure. But also it derives from how the title comes. We’re so tired as duality, right? 

Like the mind and the body are separate because it comes from Christian thinking that if we die, Jesus comes, we will all rise from the grave. And he's like, “you can come into heaven and you can't.” And then, I guess it was Plato or all those guys being like, yeah, this is all separate.

And you're like, it doesn't make any sense. I guess in that sense if it were a theater play, then maybe it's narrative based, right? Like then you also want to understand the story. 

But I think I especially this performance is more related in that sense to dance, you have a story, but it's an abstraction, right? It's also about the sensations. 

MM: That's a really important point. To be able to define it as not theatrical. Or not a straight linear narrative. 

MS: But I love that somebody also makes a story right? For me, that's a joy. That is just like absolutely amazing.

And also it is interesting to have these things or to have these questions because it's just more an adding on to what was made. Because I do feel you're right about asking, “is this person a prisoner?” Even though I haven't thought like, “oh, this person is a prisoner.”

MM: I will ask in this next question about whether you agree that the signal of the embrace (as in your embracing the concrete pillar), has assigned a universal meaning? And if so, might it be difficult for the viewer to ignore, or even approach it abstractly? As with words like catch, like this universal signage? That's probably what we're talking about, which I think is an important discussion because universal signage is so–like when we talk about the future. We talk about having one language that we could share?

MS: Oh, yes. Actually now I'm just thinking more and more about this embrace because I think it's really beautiful. Also when you think about this being post COVID and then embracing, which was not allowed, right? Like, how are you, right? How you're allowed to make a connection where you're not allowed. We're not allowed to touch. We have to be distant. And it's also, I think that during that time my work was already having a lot to do with tactility. I was already busy with this touching. And then also like sexual touching or like, who's allowed to touch who? 

I did a performance where everybody could glue these fingers on me. And that's where another work was derived; where I was laying in this hotel room and would ask you to put your finger on me. Which is like this very simple act, but it's also really intense. Or I have the mark on me from all the people having put their fingers on me. So through that performance I kind of delved into just touch and how that relates to the body and what do we experience and how do we relate to things like that? And then COVID happened. And then of course like touch became more dangerous or proximity became dangerous. But being allowed to hug. And I think the whole global pandemic; everybody would ask, “oh, can I hug this person?” And even now, I think we're still in that, right? We're still like, “oh, I don't know. Do I give you a hand?” Like, for me, greeting people has become I don't know, like asking “are you a hugger?” In Netherlands, we used to do three kisses.

MM: Exactly.