Accustomed as we are since the inauguration of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao to the red carpet walk of international art personalities through the city, it is difficult to imagine a time in which the arrival of someone like Richard Serra would represent an event that could be described almost as political.
Serra had arrived in Bilbao in 1983 with the help of Carmen Giménez as a participant in the exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts 5 Architects, 5 Sculptors, of which she was commissioner. Although not yet well known to the general public, Serra was already a reference for many Bilbao artists, so some of us decided not to miss the opportunity to have a conversation with the sculptor, to which he enthusiastically agreed, and which ended up being published with form of interview.
Encouraged by the collaborative nature of Serra, who was fascinated by a city in which the museum coexisted with the shipyards, with their cranes and heavy machinery, in the midst of great social conflict, and also surprised that in a place where I knew so little and so much was known about his work, we arranged the possibility of a meeting with the students at the Faculty of Fine Arts. Upon arrival, we were surprised by how deserted the building’s multiple courtyards were, normally filled with students. For a moment I feared the worst, I thought that the warnings to the teachers had had no effect and that we would find ourselves in a half-empty place. The surprise was great to see that the room was packed, that the entire faculty was gathered in that place. The success of the meeting was total, it was the first time that a figure of Serra’s stature participated in the Faculty of Fine Arts in a similar event and everyone was satisfied with an experience that the sculptor always claimed when talking about his relationship with the city.
On the way out I noticed that Serra had something on his mind, he suddenly said to me: “Would there be any way to know more about the work of the author of that work that you showed me before?” As we were at that moment next to the library, I showed him the book Oteiza 1933-68, which Juan Daniel Fullaondo had edited. Serra observed the reproductions of Oteiza’s works with delight while he commented again and again: “How is it possible that I don’t know this artist?”
Serra’s visit to Bilbao had direct and indirect repercussions, at least in two aspects: on the one hand, he strengthened the confidence of a group of young artists, by taking their side in the battle they were then waging with the artistic institutions, especially with the Museum of Fine Arts. The other issue that his visit raised was the renewed recognition of the figure of Jorge Oteiza. His work, at the beginning of the eighties, was in one of its lowest hours, greatly obscured by the myth of the prophetic and protesting artist. For the small group of artists who at that time claimed the international relevance of their sculpture, the fact that someone like Serra, in a totally intuitive and immediate way, was able to perceive its importance to the point of considering it a precedent for minimalism, constituted a great boost. .
A decade later, Richard Serra would return to Bilbao with the same hand, that of Carmen Giménez, to carry out his work. Snake in the then still under construction Guggenheim Museum, designed by Frank Gehry, also present in that Bilbao exhibition, and a few years later the set of sculptures would be installed The Matter of Time, thus strengthening the close relationship of the sculptor with the city; a relationship that he had begun, however, that March 1983.