Page 1 of 7 

Uma Conversa entre Márcio Vilela e Sofia Silva Lisboa/Brasil - Lisboa, Julho, 2014

Sofia: This conversation is driven by your recent book featuring the w ork done in Azores. I have a few questions about the images, but I’ll pose them later on. For now, w hat intrigues me is the object-book, namely your options regarding the fabrication, production and distribution of the book. Before I go into more specif ic questions, can you give us an idea of the reasons behind such choices?

Márcio: In my projects I alw ays try to leave behind an object that speaks about the creative process. In Mono there w as the box of Polaroides, accounting for the two years of production, in another project I’m currently working on it’s a transfers notebook… it’s always like this, there’s alw ays something that stays.

I’ve alw ays wanted to make a book, but had never manage to reach a successful compromise betw een the personal and manual labor of such objects and an industrially printed book. I then started to research an object that could be made by hand, like a book… and look like it w as handmade.

I’m the one doing the printing, using the same method (inkjet) I use w hen doing the exhibit prints, this time in a continuous 5m print. This w ouldn’t be possible in a Print Shop, the book w ould have to be bound w ith glue. The book’s cover is made on w ooden paper, cut with its specific measures. I spent a lot of time searching for this paper, it had to be something really special. The inscriptions on the cover and the back (‘Azores’ and the map of São Miguel) are handmade, by transferring a pigment (a process I also use in other w orks).

The book is inside a card box w hich is also handmade. I w anted w hoever opened the box to feel like he/she w as being gifted something special, I w anted them to feel that w hat is inside is a part of me and it is unique.

Inside the book there is a text by Eder Chiodetto and an extra print that is not part of the exhibition of the series Azores. This extra print tells the story of what I w ent through during those 4 w eeks in São Miguel, the extreme beauty, the freedom, the loneliness and the fear… a powerful mix of emotions. Eder’s text is beautiful, a result of conversations we had about such emotions. I think he w as able to account for things I had felt, before I had thought about them.

Page 2 of 7 

Since it is a very limited edition, 100 copies, the distribution is also made by hand. People come to me to get the books, w e talk, it’s all personal. There w ill be no mass distribution of the book. Besides myself, only three places w ill be selling copies: Photo Book Korner and Carpe Diem, in Lisbon, and Madalena’s bookstore in São Paulo. Meanw hile there are no more than 10 copies in these places. I really w ant people to come to me.

Sofia: Are you the one doing the handw ork?

Márcio: Not anymore… in the beginning I chose the materials, the model, the box, everything. After that I asked a designer, Joana Durães, for help w ith the layout of the pages. As soon as the process w as tuned, I started on the f inal books but it w as taking me an entire day to f inish each copy and at such a pace the project w ould never be over. So I decided to speak to Luís Rendeiro, in Tomar, in order for him to help me. He folds and cuts the 5m prints, and he also does the boxes, all by hand.

I then bring everything to my studio in Lisbon and f inish the process, do the transfers, print and cut the extra image that comes w ith the book, fold in the text booklet, sign and number everything. Then I put it inside the box and it’s done.

Sofia: And why the preference for the handmade process over the industrial one? Are those options a result of an emotional connection, of an idea on ‘affective labor’ or is it a w ay to enhance the product with qualities than potentiate its economic value, such as singularity, rarity, amongst other things?

Márcio: It’s only a very strong emotional process, I’m not sure if the fact that it is made by hand can effectively potentiate the objects’ economic value. I think that happens more naturally because of the content and the w ay things develop inside a book, than because of its materials and its fabrication process. Besides, the exchange value of the book is relatively low, close to the production costs. My interest here w as to move from the objects I used to make to a book, w ith losing control over the manual aspect of things.

Sofia: I think the value of a book, as w ith almost everything else, is greatly dependent on the nominal value of the author. If you have that authority, everything you produce has its value. But w hat interests me in this case is that your book is coming at a time w hen the handmade product is being overvalued, besides being trendy. To my know ledge, this is the result of a process of alienation betw een author and w ork that has been escalating since the Industrial Revolution in the XVIII century and is now reaching a peak w ith the notion of ‘virtual labour’ introduced by all the new technologies. Anyw ay, my question is: although it is not a strategy, do you care that your emotion connection to the handmade process is translated in an economic value?

Márcio: Yes, I do agree a book can depend, in part, of the author’s nominal value, but I also think the art public is more attentive than w e think, people don’t say they like or dislike something based on a signature on the corner of the artw ork.

I think the artw ork needs to circulate, reach people. Those who can’t afford to do a professional high cost book, do it by hand… in the end w hat is judged is the consistency of the w ork.

An artists ruled by trends is a hostage of that strategy, and is alw ays looking for references outside of himself, w aiting for the marker’s approval. I alw ays thought a true artists creates because he/she needs to, even w ithout the monetary reward or the recognition… like food for your soul. I know a lot of people like this and have alw ays admire them for it.

In regards to your question, I can say I care about the economic value of my w orks, but that isn’t a goal.

Page 3 of 7 

© Márcio V ilela, da série Azores. Cortesia do autor. 

 

© Márcio V ilela, da série Azores. Cortesia do autor.

Page 4 of 7 

Sofia: And regarding this project, how do you think the handmade aspect of the book meets the images? I suppose the book w ouldn’t lose its meaning if it w as made through industrial processes, so in your understanding w hat does this personalized approach to the object adds to the photographs?

Márcio: These images are relatively big, 120x150cm. When on a w all, the set of these 6 images has a different relation with the spectator, you can have a distant look at them to get an overall perception of the composition but you can also get closer to see the details… but it ends up being an object w ith a very strong presence.

I think this book w ould lose its sense if made by industrial processes, I’m addressing this book in particular. I’m not sure if it’s the object-book that adds something to the photographs or the other w ay around, maybe in the end they are one unique thing.

The relation one establishes with the book is very different from that one establishes with the image on a gallery w all, it is more personal. When w e hold a manufactures object on our hands that relation is even more intimate, there is the notion that the thing w e’re holding is delicate, that w e need to hold it w ith care, that it needs time to be looked at. This time, this w ait, they are important.

For me this book brings very strong sensorial experiences, there are the different textures of the papers, the smell of the cardboard… w ith careful attention w e can also smell the solvent used in the pigment transference. It is an object one keeps rediscovering and that only strengthens that affective relationship I’ve been talking about.

Sofia: That’s w hy I mention alienation, because the great majority of people create more immediate empathies w ith objects in w hich the extension of the author’s body is easily recognizable, but I don’t think that empathy is more or less natural than any other (I don’t support the essentialist discourse), rather it is a reaction to a sincere discourse and that sincerity can manifest itself either in manufactured or industrial discourses. As a spectator, how are you, do you also create empathy with artworks in w hich you recognize the author’s footprint, or is that irrelevant?

Márcio: Certainly there’s an expectation w hen I go and see the w ork of someone I really like, be it a cinematographer, a plastic artist, a musician… I’m alw ays curious and open to absorbing that experience. There have been exhibitions w here I stayed for over an hour w ithout talking to anyone, or I didn’t w ant further visual stimuli (as much as possible), I w anted to take it all in very slow ly… I’ve spent over an hour sitting on the f loor of a dark room at TATE looking at a Da Vinci’s sketch (and they have chairs)… I w as stagnant on the f loor, couldn’t get that out of my mind. This had happened a few times and some of these experiences have been w ith author’s I had never before heard about. Being unaware of the author’s footprint has only accentuated that experience, as if I had just discovered a new color.

When I know the artist I’m very emotional in my analyses, I can either enjoy the w ork very much and end up in a sort of “sensorial blockage” state I mentioned or I can be really disappointed by w hat I see… really sad, as if they had disappointed me. When I go to see a w ork I’m not expecting the artist’s success or failure (because sometimes I feel people root against you), I go out looking for a surprise and hoping that such experience can open another door in my mind.

Page 5 of 7 

© Márcio V ilela, da série Mono. Cortesia do autor. (em cima e na página anterior) 

Sofia: It’s curious that photography is precisely the most polarizing medium, its process is profoundly subjective and its presentation tendentiously objective. This seems quite clear in this series: on the one hand you have the installation of the photographs, public, w ith no anomalies, forcing the spectator to maintain a certain distance in order to contemplate; on the other hand you have the manufactured book that calls out for an intimate sensorial experience. Does this bipolarity betw een the private and public discourse suit you?

Márcio: It doesn’t bother me, I think they’re different situations. The exhibition is alw ays the presentation of an end result, I like seeing people’s reactions to the artw orks, sometimes I pass by a spectator and join a group in order to share that experience. At the Bird Eye View exhibition I even stood by a couple and asked w hat they thought w as the w hite spot in the middle of the blue image… after thinking for a w hile they said they thought it w as an aeroplane. I told them it w as a ship, and suddenly the expressions on their faces changed completely, in that moment the sky w as converted in the sea. It w as a very special moment for me.

On the other hand, openings alw ays give me a mix of emotions, a part of me is happy because the w ork is done, another is deeply sad because it is over… In Açores this w as very strong.

I’m more interested in the process that in the end result, it’s the experience that counts, to allow myself the failure and the dream.

Regarding the objects I make, as the book Azores, this relation is quite different. The object w ill last, every time I open it, it is “new ”, it ceases to be a memory and becomes something you touch.

Page 6 of 7 

Sofia: In reality, photography has alw ays been associated w ith w andering and you seem particularly draw n to the contrast between the infinitude of the landscape and the limits of the human dimension. For that matter and because your discourse over this conversation has been one of proximity, I’d like to f inish w ith a question I know w ill be hard to answ er but that I f ind inevitable: w hat are you looking for?

Márcio: Problems… inevitably I’m alw ays looking for problems. Not in terms of diff iculties, confusions or suffering, mas in terms of challenges that are on the verge of being impossible. I get bored very easily and routine has a harmful effect on my life, w hile it comforts me (grants me security and stability) it prevents me from moving on.

It’s funny that you ask this question at this point in my life, because I’m in the middle of big changes, once again. I’m not going to lengthen these stories, nor do I pretend to appear like a fearless and detached human being… w hich I’m not.

In 2002 I w as in an extremely comfortable position in Brazil. I w as f inishing the third year of my studies in Veterinary Medicine, w ith a stable emotional and f inancial life, I had many friends and my family close to me. It as a perfect scenery for someone wanting to be “someone”… that thing that frightens our parents to death: the possibility of us not succeeding. I w asn’t unhappy, but w as tremendously bored and annoyed. The “happiness pack” was right there, but there w as something missing… I needed to break the routine. “Still w ater rots”, my brother used to tell me. He has total inf luence in my decisions regarding art.

When I discovered photography, in 2001, w as as if I w as discovering the w orld once again. Instead of “discovering a color”, I felt I had been seeing the w orld in black and w hite… it w as overw helming, out of control. So profound that in less than a year I had packed tw o suitcases and w as at my hometow n’s airport, in Recife, on my w ay to Tomar… I knew they had a graduate course in Photography and not much else.

Time in Tomar w as very harsh, though also very productive, I learned a lot.

Being detached brought me here. In Recife the w eather w as good, there w as the beach, friends, f inancial freedom, and an “eternal” love… but so w hat?!

I mentioned your question is very pertinent in this moment for the same reason, because I’m bored again… extremely accommodated and bored. I’ve been teaching photography for the past 8 years, I love classes, but it’s taking up all the time and mental capacity that I have, even if it is also a great comfort. I am “someone”, a graduate school teacher. I know that on the 23rd of each month there’s this salve alleviates the pain and calms the tedium. It’s like “I have a car to go to w ork to pay my car”, or something like that. So I’m out, I w on’t be teaching anymore.

I love to teach, I feel alive w hen I’m inside the classroom w ith my students, but all the extra-curricular problems kill me. I decided to become “no one”, I decided to be w hat I’ve alw ays w anted but had never had the courage to fully become… an artist. When I’m involved w ith my projects there is never boredom, there’s never anxiety…

I think this constant dissatisfaction is the result of an extremely boring childhood, spent inside an apartment w ith few friends and little to do besides the daily suffering at school… I’ve sort of always been a terrible student. That only changed in Tomar, w hen I started studying w hat I really liked, that’s w hen I discovered that the secret to success is to be doing w hat one enjoys, I’ll never let anyone take that aw ay from me again.

This sense of boredom is very noticeable on my w ork, everything that seems too easy causes my disinterest. This raises several problems, either f inancial or emotional. During the residency in Azores that w as very simple, I w ould have four weeks to photograph and enjoy the island… to w ork and to relax at the same time. Of course I had to make things harder for myself, so I w oke up early every day and coursed through the island from one side to the other w ithout stopping, eating sandwiches and chocolate milk from Azores. I w orked till nightfall, w ent to extremely remote places, alw ays on my one, I took full advantage of the power a Jipe gives to be transported from point A to point B… drove into roads w here there could have be no w ay out. I w ent up, dow n, then reversed… There w as no music in the car, no travel companion. There w as the silence, an eternal silence I had never experienced before… I w ent looking for the mountains and the cow s, people simply w eren’t around. I felt like coursing through a

Page 7 of 7 

deserted island most of the time. When I returned home at the end of the day there w as no one to share the adventures of the day w ith. It might seem strange, but I met no one in the island, I kept outside, on my one… maybe due to a social inability, lack of time for it… I’m not sure.

It’s obvious this has caused me physical problems and by the end of the third w eek I w as taken to the emergency room in São Miguel during the night, I must have been dehydrated, hypoglycaemic… in chock even. My body w as simply refusing to continue… I w as on serum for hours. That day I had reached my physical limit, the landscape had literally crushed me. After spending tw o days at home resting I started it all over. I can’t do it differently.

The other day I w as talking w ith Daniel Blaukfus about chess and I w as telling him how boring it w as to play against me because I had a suicide strategy w hen playing games. In jest he answ ered I had a suicide approach at life. I smiled, I take it as a compliment, specially coming from a friend.

I don’t think of myself as a strong person because of these things, on the contrary, my body gives me clear signs w hen I cross the line, but at the same time that’s w hat makes me w anting to be “here”.

In another recent event, this modus operandi has led me to a big discussion w ith a great friend and curator, Lourenço Egreja. He invited me to an artistic residency in Berlengas, the idea w as to stay in the island for a period of ten days producing work in the archipelago, working and relaxing once again. This time I took the project to an extreme, I simply decided not to stay in the island… “I’ll get out of there”, I thought. I bought a survival w herry, one of those you throw at the sea w hen a ship sinks and is automatically inf lated. I’ll turn myself into a voluntary castaway, stay adrift in the sea till one day I reach land… alw ays alone. The scale of this project caused him to w orry a lot, understandably, no one wants to feel responsible for the death of a friend… that was the base for the discussion: “It is my decision, you can’t stop me”, on the one hand, and “I w on’t let you do that, I don’t w ant you to die”, on the other. It’s hard to hear a friend saying “you can’t stop me”. I’m deeply sorry that I cause this sort of anguish on people… but I can’t avoid it, I do it because I need to… I w ill do it. There’s a curiosity that makes me move forw ard anyw ay, w hen I make a decision it’s almost impossible to stop me. When I decided to come to Portugal it w as the same thing, “you can’t stop me”… and here I am.

A very good friend from Germany, Jessica Lennan, once called me a “trouble maker”… I loved it, w e laughed a lot about it. This is it, I like to go looking for problems for me to solve, I think that’s w hat I’m looking for. As if this problems were mazes invented by me… there is alw ays a w ay out, I know there is. This is w hat drives me, no matter how difficult it is I know there is alw ays a way out of there. This is w hy, going back to your question, I think I’m looking for a w ay to dream freely… and dreaming causes this problems.

Sofia: Thank you for being so prompt and w illing to make yourself known and to expose your strengths and fragilities. Thanks for this conversation. All the best w ith the drift aw ay project, no doubt you w ill succeed, as much in the more immediate dimension of breaking w ith the daily routine and go out on a limb, as in the spiritual dimension. One day, in a PhD class w here w e w ere discussing that same old question of how to define ‘art’ a colleague suggest that an artist is a ‘problem solver’… I suspect you can identify w ith such description.

See you soon, Márcio.

Márcio Vilela @ http://w w w.marciovilela.com/

Sofia Silva @ http://nihilsentimentalgia.com/