Paula Reyes, Artist and Writer: “It’s a Mistake to Talk About Art as Consumed and Time as Invested”

Paula Reyes (Getafe, 29 years old) cannot imagine life without art. What she enjoys most is acting, although she says the love she feels for acting is not mutual. However, her four years at the Royal Higher School of Dramatic Art in Madrid were not in vain, as she met Adriana Ubani there, with whom she later formed the group Pipiolas. Through an eclectic sound that mixes pop variants with house and even techno, they give new life to many of Reyes’ poems. Their album No hay un Dios and two EPs in three years have allowed them to carve out a space in the Spanish indie scene, in addition to collaborating with artists such as Rigoberta Bandini and Kiko Veneno.

Reyes is the band’s songwriter and also writes poetry and narrative. Sometimes she intertwines the latter, as in her book joder y gracias (Aguilar), where, often employing raw sarcasm, she explores the pain of loss, love (and consequently heartbreak), and ultimately all the doubts and traumas that encompass a generation of young people. Although surely more than one boomer has felt represented as well.

Question. Has writing accompanied you your whole life?

Answer. Always. Since I learned to write, I have written. It was my way of conversing with the world and understanding my emotions.

Q. The protagonist of the book, Enriqueta, feels a lot of anger that her brother made two spelling mistakes in his suicide note.

A. She concretizes pain in something that seems trivial but is not, like the two spelling mistakes; it’s her way of making that abyss more tangible or something she can dialogue with because it becomes a bit closer to her.

Q. Was it your idea to mix prose and verse?

A. Yes, I proposed it to my editor and she thought it was really cool. I saw it as an opportunity to reflect on genres, making them increasingly fluid. I wanted to create poetic prose, a bit even coarse. Because emotions can be coarse sometimes, or not beautiful all the time. In fact, I think that beauty distances us a bit from the truth.

Q. You write in the book: “Emotional sedentarism is today a punk act.”

A. Nowadays, it’s much more complicated to stay in one place. It requires a lot of management, even more time. Although it might seem strange, it’s true. I think it’s much harder to maintain lifelong bonds than to vary them a bit, which is neither better nor worse; it’s just a reflection that immediacy prevails.

Q. Is it easier to leave than to stay?

A. But because of the context in which we are. I’m in cinema and I think: “Oh! I have to see this movie too.” The options are much greater and it happens to us the same way with connections. We think about whether we are really investing well, instead of seeing if the person in front of me interests me and whether I want to stay or not. We talk about art as consumed and time as invested, and that’s a mistake for me.

Q. How does this era of immediacy affect you?

A. It’s much harder to concentrate. For me, loving literature, it’s sometimes difficult to finish certain books, and I’ve learned to read four books at once. I might be with 10 pages of one, suddenly my mind goes to another and then I switch.

Q. What inspires you?

A. Especially the words of other female authors, cinema, exhibitions… Right now, I’m ultra-connected with director Agnès Varda, partly thanks to Filmin, which has almost her entire filmography available, and it was difficult to access her work before. Conversations with my friends are an absolute source of inspiration for me.

Q. Do you hope to be able to live off art for your whole life?

A. I hope so. Art is what I do best, and it’s my way of conversing with the world and not feeling the abyss of existence so much, but simply pushing it out of my mind. Being in touch with art is a necessity for me. It may sound very deep and transcendental, but it makes life bearable for me. Since we’re here, I don’t see any fundamental sense in it, so at least the language I have for understanding the world is this.

Living off art is a somewhat stigmatized phrase. It’s often used to suggest that you want to live off nothing, just air.

Q. What do you enjoy more: writing, singing, or acting?

A. Everything. I suppose I have more fun as an actress, but even though I love the world of acting, I feel that the world of acting doesn’t love me back much.

Q. You are from Madrid. How do you survive in Madrid without hating it?

A. Well, I’ve lived between Fuenlabrada and Alcorcón. In present-day Madrid, you survive by somewhat renouncing it. Judging it a lot and fighting for many things that should change, which make this city increasingly less livable. I think that’s the healthiest thing you can do with Madrid. Question it all the time because I love it deeply, and that’s why it hurts so much when certain things are done.

Q. On the other hand, what does Madrid have that hooks you?

A. It’s an incredible city. I love Madrid in August when there are hardly any people around. It has something special that makes it feel a bit secretive when usually it’s quite bare.

Q. How do you keep creating art when more than half your salary goes to rent?

A. Or almost the entire salary. Look, I survive thanks to my parents’ support; otherwise, it would be completely impossible. I’ve had up to five jobs at once between stores, commerce, and artistic work, and even then I couldn’t make it. I know very few people who can devote themselves solely to this.

In present-day Madrid, you survive by somewhat renouncing it.

Q. Have you had more mundane jobs?

A. Of course, I spent a long time selling underwear. I think everyone should do a bit of public-facing work. We would understand the person in front of us much more. It has been an interesting sociological study, but I left the store in January. I felt that I couldn’t continue; my anxieties increased, the Pipiolas group was progressing a lot and required a lot of energy and dedication.

Q. Can we expect more books?

A. For me, this hasn’t been a one-time publication. I want writing to be my profession as well. Additionally, I have the privilege of having my parents support me in everything I do, and without that, it’s not easy to venture into living off art, which is a somewhat stigmatized phrase. It sounds like you want to live off nothing, just air.

Q. More than half of the women in the audiovisual industry have suffered some form of sexual violence. How do we stop this?

A. I believe the foundation is in not always placing the focus on the idea that the denunciation must come from women. The very existence of gender as a woman is a form of denunciation in itself. It is not fair to always expect us to be the ones to raise our voices.

Q. Is it the same in music?

A. If to be heard we need an Equal [a Spotify playlist aimed at giving more visibility to women], we won’t make it onto the charts of big hits, which is when a man will really play us in his car. It’s absolutely analogous to when literature was created for women. Just because the voice comes from a woman doesn’t mean it’s a feminine voice. What happens is that we have read and listened to music made and said by both men and women, but men have not. I don’t think it’s a proactive issue, but rather an educational one. If I considered it a natural gender issue, the feminist struggle would make no sense, because we would be completely giving up on men. It’s educational, and the change must come from there.

Q. What should a young person cling to today?

A. Well, many people cling to benzodiazepines. I suppose it’s very much about the present moment and your circle of friends, which echoes the horrible phrase: “The family you choose.” But it’s true. I suppose you need to find your space to make this increasingly hostile place a bit more bearable.

Q. Do you fear running out of ideas… or emotions?

A. Well, if emotions run out, it means we’re dead. Inspiration may run out, but ideas never will. It’s the last thing they can take from you. And it’s something that will always be linked to oneself. They can be in constant change, but they will never stop being a part of me.