Nothing Bad Magazine, The Theory

SHORT FILM PREVIEW: “THE THEORY”

June 1st, 2010

The Theory is the latest short film from award winning and Dalston-based writer and director Eva-Marie Elg. Swedish-born Elg, often referred to as Emie, has become known for her unconventional use of narrative and imagery, but The Theory has been received as her ‘straightest’ film so far.

The film follows a day in the life of an aging man who has lost his family and is in a state of frustration and denial. Starting in the style of a documentary the man is interviewed about the death of his family while carrying on with his daily routine. As the day unfolds so does his mourning. The interviewer’s voice over describes the sad details of his life: he still buys enough food for four people and his job as a night watchmen is down to his inability to interact with other people.

By the end of the film we have seen the man descend into madness. Watching family home movies provokes him into a rage and he begins destroying his living room, only to wake up for his night shift, put the room to rights and tenderly kiss a family photograph, which had previously lay strewn on the floor. This seems to be part of the routine, and in a Groundhog Day fashion he is trapped in it.

The film is extremely uncomfortable and claustrophobic. Sound effects like the ticking of a clock and whirring of a projector subtly highlight the character’s loneliness and quietly anxious existence. The actor playing him may seem slightly too overwrought at times and while this could sometimes be classed as overacting, it works well here in portraying him as socially inept due to grief.

Denial and loss seem to be themes that Emie is fond of using, as one of her previous films Recognize Myself follows roughly the same story. Both films also surround male protagonists, which make the portraits of their upset and anger all the more awkward. The film, however, also produces an air of mystery as certain details, such as how the man’s family died and whether he had an involvement in their deaths, go unexplained, allowing the audience to develop their own theories.

director Eva-Marie Elg

“Relationships really interest me, especially love relationships, because they have so much depth to them, in terms of the stages you go through, and what happens when it goes a bit more destructive. I like destructiveness in people,” says Emie.

The film is dedicated to Emie’s mother, who died of cancer early this year during the making of The Theory. The death had a profound effect on the direction of the film and put even more emphasis on the nostalgia and loss felt by the main character.

“It made me stronger, because I felt like this actually means something. I knew exactly what I wanted. It had a really good impact on me for some reason.”

Nostalgia is a theme in other films from Emie. Her preferred format to shoot in is film, which often creates a nostalgic atmosphere in itself, and she usually uses 16mm. However, due to financial reasons The Theory is shot predominantly in digital. It has been effective in this case though, as the stark reality of the digital picture of the man in his daily routine contrasts well against the soft, blurry home movies, shot on super 8mm film.

Emie’s next project with her production company, Happy Endings Productions, is a sequel to the comic book short, Sleeping and Dreaming of Food, showing that she can work with different genres and media. But for now, The Theory is a personal and professional achievement and raw portrayal of an old man’s regret and grief.

www.happyendingsproductions.co.uk

Words and photography – Evie Jeffreys

http://nothingbadmag.com/index.php/art/short-film-preview-the-theory/

Arts London News interview, Tattoos

Interview: Alejo Lombardi

by Evie Jeffreys

Lombardi in front of a selection of artworks available in the east London tattoo shop, Sacred Heart. [Richard Twilton]Whatever your opinion is on body illustration, it cannot be said that the art of tattooing is not a skilled craft.

The responsibility and reward felt from branding someone’s body with something they, hopefully, will treasure for life is unparalleled.

Tattoo artists all have their own reasons for choosing their occupation and it can be surprising how serious and passionate they are about it.

Alejo Lombardi, originally from Argentina, works in Sacred Art, an east London tattoo shop. At 27 years old, he has been tattooing as a profession for about seven years, and is now in his second year of a sculpture degree at Camberwell.

His parents hated tattoos and none of his older siblings had them, but he explains that his inspiration and love of tattooing is down to the admiration felt for his sisters’ boyfriends, two of whom were tattoo artists and one who was heavily covered in tattoos.

An asset

The sculpture degree does not directly relate to tattooing, but fine art is something which Lombardi considers an asset.

A heavily tattooed Lombardi. [Richard Twilton]“Fine art is different from having a craft.

"I think it is positive in terms of having a more critical point of view.”

Despite continuing from the foundation degree to the sculpture degree, there is no doubt in his mind that tattooing is primarily what he wants to do: “That’s not something that is going to change. I don’t think so. Not for a long time.”

When asked what it is he enjoys most about the art of tattooing his reply is simple: “I enjoy the technique and also the medium.

"You are working on someone else’s body - that is absolutely different from anything you can do. It’s not only about what you are tattooing.”

Despite having been a tattoo artist for many years, Lombardi still gets nervous when doing a job. Explaining that no matter how skilled you get, being aware of the responsibility you have in that role is always intimidating. He likens it to the feeling clients get when they are about to receive a tattoo: “When you are on the other side it’s about the pain.

"When people say ‘Oh you must be used to it’.

"How can you get used to it? You can’t.”

Giving a chance

The amount of care and attention employed by Lombardi and the rest of Sacred Art’s staff is encouraging: “We give the customers a chance, not forcing them, but to think about what they are going for and to do more research and to really think about what they want.

"We give them a chance to base it on things that already exist but make it a bit more personal. Individuals are unique and tattoos should be unique as well.”

He goes on to say: “There are trends with tattoos, as in anything, and many tattooists are pushing customers into getting this thing instead of that.Lombardi works at the Sacred Art tattoo parlour. [Richard Twilton]

"It’s like being a surgeon, if you push a woman to get massive boobs because you think it’s cool.

"But it shouldn’t really be like that. It’s not ethical.

"It comes to be a lot about trust.

"It’s someone else’s body, it’s not your body.

"Whether you like something or not, it is a responsibility.”

Lombardi explains that for many people it is not purely about the tattoo, but about the experience – meeting the person who is going to “mark you for life”, discussing the application of the tattoo, the healing process – and this experience can last until they next walk into the shop for another one.

“I didn’t have the chance back in my country to tattoo loads of black people. Here, sometimes, for people with really, really dark skin, I was questioning why they would get tattoos if you can’t even see them? And then I understood. They want to be part of it and they want to have the whole experience.

"It’s not only about how it looks.”

More accessible

“The middle class phenomenon is probably only the last 20 years or so," explains Alejo.

According to him, and probably many others, though the tattoo has been around forever and it has now become more accessible.

“The good thing about it is that people have more acceptance about it. At the same time it becomes less special. Many of the reasons I got my tattoos is because I wanted that thing of people going ‘Oh shit, that’s disgusting’, but it’s pretty much the other way round.

"People are like ‘Oh cool, you’ve got tattoos!’ and that’s sometimes more annoying.”

He considers tattoos more middle class now. In the past they belonged to the upper and lower classes. For the former it was exotic and for the latter, it was that they could not lose.

“The middle class phenomenon is probably only the last 20 years or so. Being from a South American middle class background, the reasons why I have tattoos is because I belong to only the last two or three decades.”

He also explains that to have tattoos boldly on public display is a very western thing, whereas in eastern countries people cover them.

“It’s cultural. How you want them to be on show. In eastern countries you get people that have a whole body suit, but not their neck or hands.

"It’s something private. Sometimes they are crime related but that’s not the original background.”

On regrets he, who is a heavily illustrated gentleman himself, confesses: “I do regret all my tattoos at least once.

"But they are evidence of who you were and who you are. You can say, ‘Hey, eight years ago I was that, and nine years ago I was that’ and so on. It’s not about the tattoos, it’s about yourself.

"Even though I’m not too happy with some of them, I’m not too sure about covering them up or lasering them.

"I think I would probably actually regret that.”

http://www.artslondonnews.co.uk/20100218-body-art-interview-alejo-lomardi-tattooist

Mark Pearson interview for ALN

Chasing the Velvet Underground

by Evie Jeffreys

One of Mark Pearson's worksCertain artistic movements can and do promote lifestyles shaped around drugs. The youth of the '60s and '70s were particularly enamored with artists, musicians and writers, as there were not nearly as many exciting watering grounds for like-minded hipsters as there are today.

One young person of that generation was 53-year-old Mark Pearson, now a successful London artist. His longing to be part of the 'popist', Andy Warhol scene eventually led to a heroin addiction. By the time he was 20 he was using the drug recreationally, but heavily, and continued to do so on and off until the age of 28.

While we hear so much about artists that reach their demise through drugs, there are those with the drive to overcome their addiction, such as Mark Pearson.

In search of Hedonism

The London that Pearson grew up in was grey and dreary. According to him the only club anyone went to was Global Village (now Heaven). Because there was little to do here, he and his friends would create their own activities, trying to emulate their artistic heroes of New York, often with drugs at the centre. Pearson found that he could slip in and out of society with ease, giving him the freedom in a: “world with no adults” to experiment with drugs unnoticed.

For Pearson, the world of The Velvet Underground and The Factory was too enticing to ignore. Though separated by an ocean, the youth of this generation identified almost obsessively with that particular scene.

"There was nothing part-time about it. The boat was leaving and I was going to get on it. That was it and I didn't really expect to get off the boat. It was that passionate. The whole lifestyle - partying, The Factory, having this fantastic, experimental life. It was either that or a squat in Cold Harbour Lane (Camberwell)."

Pearson came, like much of the working class youth at the time, from an unartistic family who did not understand him, the majority of whom went on to work as dockers.

"I just thought what the fuck is that about, when there are all these fantastic things you can be, and you can get fucked and be cool? It was just another world. There was nothing they (the family) could give me that was going to help me to the place I wanted to get."

Addictions grip

At the age of 23, after his degree at Royal Academy of Art, Pearson went to New York in search of the Andy Warhol-Velvet Underground scene, which by then was petering out. During his time there, though, cocaine was the drug of choice as opposed to heroin. After all these years he still says it was worth it. “I met Andy Warhol. I did get there. And I did get involved in it all.”

However, after returning to London, Pearson’s use of heroin developed from being stylish, to an addiction. Much of his time was spent in squats and he and his friends turned to crime to afford the habit.

He paints a very dark picture of life at that time, describing waking up to dead bodies on the floor around him and the “bad things” people were driven to do.

“Everyone was getting arrested. We were really doing a lot of crime… Once you’re into that junkie mentality, you need the drug so much that you just don’t give a shit. My best mate O.D’d, twice actually. One week we saved him, then the next week he was gone.”

Unlike so many drug addicts, Pearson luckily realised that he couldn’t continue like this: “I just got to the level where I knew that I had to survive. I had to get off it. I was living on Frosties. There were murders where I was. It was getting really heavy; it was dark. What had been interesting was just getting horrible. It was getting dangerous.”

Mark carried on his art all through the years of drug taking. It neither hindered nor helped his work. He was experimental but had no interest in selling anything until later in life. “If you’re still driven and you still have an idea of what you want your life to be like, then you’ve got more of a chance of escaping.”

He says that the dangers of heroin and its fatal addictive quality that we are all aware of today had not been identified by the 1970s. People would use it recreationally and think nothing of it, just as people used opium in the 1920s. It was not until British anti-heroin campaigns in the late '80s that people were officially alerted to its dangers.

By the time ecstacy and the rave scene had been established, Mark had a daughter, Lucy, and was straight. He started selling work and is now an established London artist. He has a liberal attitude towards drugs now and he is one of the most interesting and sweetest people you could hope to meet.

http://www.artslondonnews.co.uk/20091124_mark-pearson