Gabriela Schutz is a London-based artist whose practice, active since 1999, investigates how technology, information, and consumerism increasingly shape our world. Her work critically examines the binary frameworks—such as culture/nature and male/female—through which Western society interprets reality, and how these constructs contribute to humanity’s escalating dominance over nature.

Schutz is the winner of the Clifford Chance/University of the Arts London Sculpture Award (2024) and the Cass Art Prize (2023). She holds an MA in Fine Art (Distinction) from Central Saint Martins, London, and a BA from Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design, Jerusalem, including an exchange at the Slade School of Fine Art.

Her work has been exhibited widely in the UK and internationally, including at the Museum of the Home and Bruce Castle Museum (London), The Collection (Lincoln), Ein Harod and Petach Tikva Museums (Israel), and in galleries such as Danielle Arnaud Contemporary, Gasworks (London), The Wilson (Cheltenham), Artists Space and The Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts (New York), 18M (Berlin), and The Artist Association and The Water Institute (Tel Aviv).

Schutz has been shortlisted three times for the Jerwood Drawing Prize, the Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize (2021), and twice for the Neo Print Prize. Her work is held in public and private collections across Europe, the U.S., and Israel, including the Bruce Castle Museum,Clifford Chance collection and the Zoom corporate collection.

An Interview with

Gabriela Schutz

Artistic Practice

Ripple Verse Gallery (RVG): Your figures are often shown in profile and appear emotionally detached. What motivates/inspires this visual and compositional choice?

Gabriela Schutz (GS): We mostly see portraits of important figures—emperors, monarchs—in profile on coins and stamps. These images are deliberately impersonal; we can't make eye contact with them. They represent symbols of power or an idea. I didn't want my figures to be specific people, and in some works, I've tried to make them genderless. They represent the broader human condition of our times. 

RVG: Your works address themes like hyper-connectivity, passive consumption, and digital isolation. What initially drew you to these subjects?

GS: Initially, it was the virtual spaces of computer games that sparked my fascination with the digital sphere in the series "Game On" from 1999. The environments in this imaginary game gradually evolved to depict aerial views of suburbia constructed from cut-and-pasted houses.

The process of drawing these houses resembled that of a printer but executed painstakingly by hand. Following this series, I began focusing on imaginary shopping centres serving these suburbs.   In 2007, as mobile technology became increasingly prevalent, I was struck by the repeated question at the beginning of phone conversations: "Where are you?" This seemed symbolic of a period of massive change in connectivity. I became interested in our physical presence when our minds are elsewhere, and I placed my figures in front of retail parks and airports—these transitional, impersonal spaces that have become so central to contemporary life.

RVG: Your idea of featuring ‘non-places’ and ‘non-people’—that echoes Marc Augé’s anthropological theory. Is your work influenced by specific theorists or writers? Do you consciously engage with such theoretical frameworks, or do they emerge organically in the work?

GS: When working on this series, I was deeply engaged with Marc Augé's ideas about the ‘non-place’. I'm an avid reader, and much of my work stems from written material, though I also discover texts through making my work. I respond to ideas, prose, and mythologies. Several texts that have profoundly influenced my practice are: E.M. Forster's futuristic novella "The Machine Stops" from 1909 that tells of a society where each person lives in isolation and communication through the machine; the biblical myth of the Fruit of Knowledge and expulsion from paradise; and the myth of Prometheus—the titan who stole fire from the gods and brought it to humanity.

RVG: At times the works visually emphasises a solitary figure in a vast, almost vacant space, or commercial spaces as emotionally neutral backdrops. What story or message were you aiming to convey in this piece?

GS: I was exploring the isolation and disconnection from our physical environment that occurs when we're engaged with our phones. I'm also interested in the pictorial aspect where only necessary components are included to convey a possible narrative, in this case- the person, phone, supermarket, and shopping trolley.

The emptiness of background represents the solitude we create when we're not aware of the people that surround us in the public sphere. From a formal aspect, the emptiness allows the busy areas to be noticed.

To foreground solitary human experience against powerful capitalist forces, I intend to confront the idea of ‘excess’ in our society. The attitude that we should have more and more is also manifested in our treatment of nature, which we view as a resource.

RVG: Do you feel there is a political dimension in your commitment to slowness, ambiguity, and interiority—qualities often at odds with present mainstream cultural values of speed, clarity, and productivity?

GS: Yes. I believe that speed comes at the expense of more meaningful engagement with our environment. My phone wasn't working for five days recently, so when I was away from WiFi, no one could reach me, and I stopped constantly checking my phone. Instead, I became more present in my surroundings, and I genuinely enjoyed it. It reminded me of life before phones—especially smartphones that became such a central part of our existence.

RVG: In increasingly polarized global contexts, is there a risk that subtlety in art becomes illegible or undervalued? How do you address this?

GS:I don't think so. I believe people are craving subtlety, and in my work, I try to encourage it. In my body of work "Moments," I drew only from observation and only on location—things I would usually photograph for social media. I believe this approach makes viewers spend more time with the work, slowing them down. As an artist, I love to look and observe. I think it helps me see things—whether big ideas or the beauty of the mundane. This is what I'm trying to encourage viewers to do: pause so they can become more observant.

RVG: Are your paintings nostalgic for a pre-digital form of presence, or do they confront us with the inescapability of our current condition?

GS: Perhaps they're both, although I wouldn't want to live in the past. Growth is the core of Western society, and it feels like it's escalating and becoming more extreme. Maybe a more moderate version would have worked better? AI, the latest development in the digital sphere, feels like the creation of Frankenstein, which I worry we will struggle to tame. My work is a mirror of those worries.

RVG: How do you see the role of painting in today’s image-saturated, digital-first culture?

GS: Ironically, I think painting is gaining renewed interest in our photograph-saturated world. Anyone can take a picture—we all have thousands on our phones—but in some ways, our cameras replace deep looking. When drawing, one internalises an experience profoundly through the time it requires and the thoughts and feelings that accompany the process. Similarly, I believe viewers who encounter a drawn or painted image tend to look more carefully at handcrafted creations than at what an unaware camera captures in a split second. The physicality of a painting is another element that is missing from the digital image which I feel that many of us crave.

Situated Experience

RVG: As someone with Cross-cultural —born in Israel, live in the UK— How have these cultural contexts shaped your work? or how do you navigate geopolitical or cultural narratives in your practice, even when they are not overtly stated?

GS: That's a substantial topic. I left Israel in 1999 partially because I opposed the occupation and because I wanted to experience a different culture. Being an immigrant positions you as an outsider, an observer. Aspects of Israel have appeared in different bodies of work: in the ‘Suburbia’ series, I combined Israeli architectural styles with the repetitiveness of English terrace houses; in the ‘Holyland’ series, I examined the political architecture of Jewish settlements in the West Bank, depicted in the style of images produced by 19th-century European travellers to the region. My recent fire paintings, while predominantly addressing the climate crisis, also enfold my feelings of horror and despair at what's happening to my country and to Gaza.

RVG: Which artists—contemporary or historical—have influenced your practice the most, and why?

GS: Many artists have influenced my work. Egyptian and Assyrian art introduced me to the profiled figures, while early Renaissance painters and Piero della Francesca, shaped my approach to space and inspired the timeless quality I seek in my work. Peter Doig's composition in 'Voyage into the Unknown' have been a reference for the  empty space of many of my work, while Vermeer’s connection points between colour surfaces and his subtle use of colour influenced my approach to colour.  Rachel Shavit Bentwitch, my first art teacher, whose primary medium was drawing taught me the fundamentals of observation. I'm also deeply drawn to the sculpture and engraving of ancient Near Eastern art, and to Constantin Brâncuși's innovative mixture of materials and his integration of sculpture with pedestal as a unified whole.

RVG: How did your teaching experience at RACC and the Natural History Museum influence your practice or thinking as an artist?

GS: During my classes, especially in my studio, I work alongside my students when space is available. This allows me to practice my drawing skills and occasionally develop ideas. It reminds me of the importance of observational drawing and gives me pleasure to teach people how to look and see more deeply. It's also socially enriching—I have wonderful students, and it breaks the solitude of working alone in the studio.

RVG: Do you feel your current body of work is a closed chapter or still evolving? What are you working on next?

GS: My work is never a closed chapter; it always evolves because I'm constantly reacting to the reality that surrounds me. I've been interested in technology and consumerism for most of my artistic career—exploring computer games, surveillance, mass production, architecture, and phone technology. In recent years, I've been exploring the separation that the West has created between humanity and nature through technological ascendancy.