Santiago Sierra curates one of the standout moments in edition 17, the Cool Days Festival. An installation on Plaça del Conqueridor in Artà challenges the ongoing migration drama in the Mediterranean.
What draws you to a festival like Cool Days?
The appeal lies in the blend of disciplines. The festival added plastic arts to its program, which felt refreshing. The ground itself seems to have a magnetism that invites people to engage, to participate, and to transform a space with meaning.
What did you decide to upgrade?
The project built on what exists: the abundant 1000‑liter water barrels scattered across the field. Over time the work evolved into a chorus, with neighbors and small industrial artisans joining in. The idea of public participation in the creation process resonated deeply. There were moments when it could have been delivered by helicopter, yet it arrived as if it was always there, as natural as breath.
How did the idea to build a wall of 171,000 books of water from the Mediterranean come about in the middle of the town of Artà?
The wall began as a metaphor spoken aloud. Rio Bravo resembles a barrier like the Mediterranean. Through sculpture, the metaphor becomes visible, translating division and obstruction into a tangible form that makes the act of separation unmistakable for passersby.
It’s not the first wall he’s built.
The wall speaks to a defining moment in time. Sierra notes that his work often traces back to the fall of the Berlin Wall. Past projects include a 333‑meter‑long fortified bastion in Wiesbaden, wrapped in containers and moved to divide a district, and a stark installation in London that used barbed wire to provoke a visceral response. These pieces critique border rules and the cruelty they impose on those seeking a better life. Solidarity and mutual aid are framed as civilization, while today’s border politics often resemble barbarism, especially in affluent nations that control movement and access.
A barbarism that seems to have no end.
Things may deteriorate further as resources dwindle. The speaker reflects on how border regimes persist, while the world watches and sometimes participates in the drama. Central American migrations toward North America are described as unprecedented, tied to conflicts in the Middle East and Syria. In this climate, those who enforce borders appear more powerful than ever, and the era feels saturated with violence and surveillance. The need to broaden empathy is acknowledged, yet the structural barriers remain.
Does art serve to break down barriers?
Art’s power is real but limited in the face of weapons, policing, and walls. Sierra frames the moment as a high‑velocity ride where one can sense danger but feel powerless to avert it. The civilization seems to be in an existential crisis, with many things heading toward collapse.
Maybe one day we will rebel and change the situation.
Revolutions feel distant in a time of comfort and entrenched power. Those who hold influence may be the smartest and strongest, and change seems unlikely. The sentiment hints at fatigue with the status quo, yet it leaves room for future upheaval in different forms.
Do you feel like an artist in the trenches?
The artist describes a dissident stance in the Western sphere, noting that opposition is handled differently by each nation. The sense of being at odds with dominant systems remains a constant undercurrent.
It was recently established in neighboring Menorca. Are you accusing Mallorca of the island of calm, the island of millionaires, cement and corruption in the face of immigrant crises?
The responsibility lies with the state and capital, as Sierra argues. Living in a beautiful place can feel like a punishment when economic pressures squeeze everyday life. The question remains about who will be able to exist when tourism and luxury dominate the landscape.
He was always controversial, even in prison he ruined everything with the tails of hunger.
Two years of work produced a piece that drew heavy criticism. After the pandemic, hunger queues in Madrid were recorded, a scene unseen since the post‑war years. The project exposed how some benefit from crises while others suffer, a pattern Sierra notes as a troubling dynamic in Spain, where people must navigate scarce resources and shifting values.
When they give you wax, is it a sign that you’re on the right track?
Challenges come with the territory. It often means a reckoning with money, survival, and the public gaze. The piece about Political Prisoners found a sudden spotlight that changed the conversation, sparking national discourse. Yet censorship and political pressure linger, including moments when authorities deem certain works unbuyable, a reminder of the fragility of artistic freedom.
Does ARCO have closed doors?
ARC cannot close doors altogether. Some galleries will keep participating in ARCO, though the path remains tough and uncertain for many.
Do you attend ARCO as a spectator?
ARCO is not a preferred scene for the artist. A well-known Los Angeles critic once compared art fairs to watching your parents have private moments, a sentiment that lingers for some. Still, ARCO remains a central, if controversial, stage in Spain’s art world.
Do you work with music?
Music has appeared in a few projects. The European anthem is intense, with a blend of marches that creates a provocative, almost scandalous soundscape. Sound is used like architectural objects, loaded with symbolism and effect.
Do you like Albert Pla, another controversial artist?
Albert Pla impressed in Menorca last summer, opening with a provocative line and a song about Madrid. His ability to move audiences with political bite stands out, and that approach earns Sierra’s respect.
Are you comfortable living in a city like Madrid?
Madrid’s history under fascist forces casts a long shadow. The city’s fronts and power struggles persist, with wealth and politics shaping who stays and who leaves. When the state and economic elites grab more of the stage, the rest of society gets pushed toward the edges.
At the Teatre d’Artà, some of his works will be the protagonists of a screening, such as ‘126 photos of the teeth of immigrants in Tijuana’ or ‘National flag in blood’. Does Santiago Sierra have a flag or would you rather be alone with a stick?
Flags exist only as a symbol in opposition. The libertarian black flag remains the ongoing, defiant emblem. It is a temporary banner that signals resistance.
Have you ever been threatened?
Threats are part of the terrain, but they rarely deter. A steady stream of correspondence has become familiar, a reality in Spain. The fronts feel present, and one grows accustomed to the friction.