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| Every Thing has a Story to Tell. Atis Ieviņš Irēna Bužinska Born 6 January 1946 on Saslaukas Farm in Ārlava Parish of Talsi District. 1960-1965 Attended the Department of Decorative Art at Riga Secondary School of Applied Arts. 1966-1968 Military service in the Soviet Army - in the Signals Regiment in Riga, undertaking the duties of an artist, postman and photographer. 1969-1974 Studied in the Textile Art Department of the Latvian Academy of Art, under Professor Rūdolfs Heimrāts, in whose composition classes he experimented with the possibilities of combining photography and painting, utilising the materials and colour technologies available at the time. In parallel with his studies at the academy, he created fine art photo-screens in collaboration with artist and master technologist Aldonis Klucis. 1973-1977 Photo-screen exhibitions together with Aldonis Klucis in Riga, Tukums, Talsi and elsewhere, and joint exhibitions with Aldonis Klucis and Georgs Barkāns in Riga, Madona, Cēsis, Valmiera, Kuldīga and at Dole Museum. 1980-1985 Group exhibitions of prints and posters in Riga, Tallinn, Tartu, Minsk, Lausanne and elsewhere. 1980-1990 Group exhibitions of textile art, posters, applied and book art. 1971-1986 Photo sessions and performances together with Andris Grīnbergs (‘'The Wedding'', 1971), Miervaldis Polis ("The Bronze Man", "A Boxing Match for Women in Traditional Mittens", 1986). Since 1975 works as a press photographer. | |
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For more than three decades, Atis Ieviņš has been familiar to one section of the cultural community as a photographer. A friend who never turns down a request to take pictures of works for a catalogue, for documentation or other purposes. He's certainly known to society at large as an energetic, lively photo reporter, who's been scurrying around Latvia all these years or dashing through Riga on his bike, in order to get to the right person at the right time with his camera. All these years, and perhaps somewhat more frequently during the past decade, Atis has also been photographing for his own enjoyment - unusual signs, houses, everyday situations and objects that elicit a smile and are impossible to classify. Here I mean the colour photos brought together in the volume "Sex and the Small Town". Yet, when you read the above text, you might ask whether Atis Ieviņš is an artist, since these activities are quite indirectly related to art. However, on this occasion we may speak of Atis Ieviņš as an artist thanks to the things he did several decades ago, which, as it turns out, have withstood the test of time. Indeed, this is the real thing: photo-screens from the 1970s and 80s, which nowadays attract specialist attention. To start with, Mark Allen Svede, a Latvian-born American art historian, bought more than ten photo-screens from the author several years ago for the Norton Dodge Collection at the Zimmerli Art Museum in New Brunswick, USA. Then, Anita Vanaga included his photo-screen "Portrait of Edīte Vīgnere" (1975) in the volume "100 Latvian Graphic Artists". We had no choice but to hurry, before the Americans bought up more of his work! And for this reason, in August 2005, the Latvian National Museum of Art purchased two works for its collections, which are now on permanent display in the Arsenāls Exhibition Hall. An exhibition of works by Atis Ieviņš was also held from 20 January to 19 February 2006 in the museum's Minor Hall. Irēna Bužinska: So, we're going to talk about photo-screens and the time when they were created: the 1970s and 80s. Do you remember how you started with screen printing? Atis Ieviņš: This exhibition and the preparations for it brought back so many memories! It all started very simply: I'm a great egoist, and there are very many things that I first created for myself, because it was interesting for me, it was exciting - drawing page after page, sketches, even on small sheets of paper, as in my army days. Everyone usually says that the army was a bad time in their lives, but I can't say that about myself. I did my army service in Riga: Henrihs Vorkals recommended the place to me! Others tried to avoid army service, but I enlisted, because I knew I was going to be engaged in art: the fiftieth anniversary of the Soviet Army was approaching, as was the anniversary of the Young Communist League, and so there was no shortage of design work. In the army I was an artist and had my own office, where I made slogans for the needs of the army. And I took photos. Where else could you get such great amounts of paint, paper and other materials! I had access to reams and reams of photographic paper. You only had to take it and go to work! And so I did. In my free time, I made drawings on small sheets of paper, so that they could more quickly be hidden, and I experimented with photo paper. For example, I put a whole pack of paper in developer and then wrapped it tightly in a polythene bag, conserving it, and left it in the light, in order to see what would come of it. Various kinds of silhouettes appeared, depending on how the developer wetted the paper and how it happened to be exposed to the light. I also discovered a form of solarisation, and then I coloured parts of the paper using aniline dyes. This experience was useful later, when I studied at the academy. I.B.: And at the academy, you ended up studying in the Textile Art Department... A.I.: Yes, this was precisely thanks to those many drawings and paintings from my army service days. I enrolled in the academy straight after army service. I passed my painting exam, but was disqualified because I'd used a pencil drawing and other kinds of paint. Heimrāts defended me, because I'd showed him the work from my time in army service. His department had a very creative atmosphere. There we became familiar with the screen, printing on fabrics in the course of our studies. But already in my student years I had a family of my own, and was working in order to support them, so I didn't have so much time to devote to studies. Whenever possible, I made use of photographs in composition studies. These first "screen prints", if it's fair to call them that, I made from photographs, cutting out each one with a scalpel or razor and colouring it. Aldonis once saw me engaged in this activity and explained that screen printing could be used for the duplication process. I.B.: At the time of the exhibition, too, you reminded people that without the participation of your colleague Aldonis Klucis, you'd never have made your screen prints... A.I.: Yes. Aldonis was a real pro! He was making pennants for the Art Workshop - these were in demand at the time as sports prizes. He knew his stuff. He worked at the Applied Arts School as a tutor for practical work. Aldonis was responsible for getting the screens: somewhere, I don't know where, he got hold of them in return for a bottle, since they were impossible to get legally! It was the same with typographic ink, which was filched from the printing works for a bottle of vodka. I held the first exhibition back in 1971, when I was still studying at the academy. We created our screen prints at the school, on the 3rd floor of a building on Ļeņina (now Brīvības) iela, during the summer months when the pupils were on holiday. But later I set up a workshop at Mežaparks, where I lived from 1969 to 1989. Aldonis usually prepared several screens and took them to Mežaparks by taxi, but the paper, cardboard and veneer were my responsibility. I painted a whole series of backgrounds in different colours. If the background was green, we printed in red, but a whole edition required a large number of prepared screens. Sometimes it was clear that the particular print was no good. Then we took the next screen, while the first one was still drying after being washed. We printed again, changing the colour, but still no success! You can go on printing like this and not get any results! Really annoying! Then we chose the most revolting pink paper, and, lo and behold, it gave us a wonderful result! We continued printing using a different colour - slightly differing from the one we'd originally intended, and once again - no good! It was rubbish - we threw the whole lot away! You could never tell how many good prints you'd get from the whole batch! On other occasions, we printed using a single screen at least 20 times, particularly on hard surfaces, building up textures in this way. Such works include the almost abstract pieces "Winter" and "Seasons", shown at the exhibition. By printing many times on a single surface using a continuous mix of colours, we obtained such a painterly appearance - something like tarnished silver or patinated bronze. These works are my own favourites: the ones where it's most difficult to understand what particular image is underneath. The surface is so varied, with reflections - the viewer can participate, seeing something different each time, depending on the lighting and their mood. I.B.: All this time you've been talking about painterly effects, chiaroscuro and texture, but we're actually talking about graphic art - the printing of an image on paper. On the other hand, an impression on veneer or cardboard is not a form of graphic art. And, moreover, you were using photographs. A.I.: All this created problems, since Aldonis and I were impossible to classify. In the first place, there were the photographs. These, too, were not in accord with the ideas of professional photographers! I remember bringing photographs to one such professional gathering. There were comments and objections to the effect that it'd be best not to repeat it! Original photographs (particularly the documentation of performances) are now seen to have value, since views have changed, but back then it wasn't considered an independent work. And because it showed a nude woman, something that always caused problems in the Soviet times: you could so easily be accused of pernicious erotica! It was actually dangerous to keep photographs of Andris' performances at home - it could get you into trouble, but, after all, I did want to graduate from the academy! And so, everything that could was kept in the form of negatives, and if the photo was intended for screen printing, then very often I produced positives as negatives. I.B.: And then there was the confusion in dealing with the graphic artists - how your work was to be regarded, if it wasn't in the classical technique and, moreover, you were employing photography. A.I.: The work I did together with Aldonis was accepted for exhibition in Riga, but we put together better exhibitions ourselves in Tukums and Talsi. However, exhibitions were not my aim - I never considered in advance where and when I'd be able to exhibit my work. It was all created for my own enjoyment and at my own expense. After all, there were no foundations to provide support at that time! One section of the screen prints were commissioned works - posters for exhibitions or concerts. Thus, we made posters for an exhibition of work by Līga Purmale and Miervaldis Polis, and for a concert by Uldis Stabulnieks. I have several preserved prints, each in a different colour, for an exhibition of work by Georgs Barkāns. I.B.: You mentioned posters. After all, it was on this basis that you joined the Poster Art Section of the Artists' Union, wasn't it? A.I.: I was surrounded by wonderful people who knew I had so many unfinished works. By the late 1970s, I'd created only one real poster, entitled "Quo vadis". In order to join, I submitted that, the "Bed" and one version of the Barkāns poster - a blue-grey one, visually easier to perceive. In order to make it look like a poster, we used the screen to print the title "Georgs Barkāns" in a free area. Why couldn't there be such a simple poster? On what basis could I have joined the Graphic Art Section? I had friends among the poster artists. I helped out with photography, and for many artists I did the technical work, just as Aldonis did for me. Laimonis Šēnbergs had a poster for the Riga Sculpture Quadrennial. I photographed stones and the textures of stone. Then Laimonis cut up my photos and arranged the images as he needed for the composition of his poster. Teamwork or collaboration with others developed precisely in this manner. And yes, about the Artists' Union. I did manage to join, but not straight away! Someone in Moscow questioned my suitability. It was Džemma (Džemma Skulme, President of the Artists' Union - I. B.) who phoned me nine years later (in 1987) and told me I'd been accepted into the Artists' Union after all. I went and paid my fee for nine years! Now, I find it laughable, but back then it was no laughing matter. You prepared to celebrate the admission, arranged a party and then, two weeks later, you were told it had all come to nothing... Many people couldn't handle that. They burned up. But I've always had ways of dealing with such difficulties - running, for example. After you've run a 20 km marathon, your head's clear and you can sleep again. Yes, but before the Artists' Union I had already joined the Journalists' Union, where Hānbergs and Britāns vouched for me. I.B.: Your bread-and-butter work was press photography. And then you had your studies. And creative work. And your family and children. How did you manage to combine all this? A.I.: Well, the whole time there was a certain rhythm, a tempo, since I generally couldn't afford to take a rest. The magazine had its own rhythm: there was a rush to complete the issue, and after that you could happily do nothing at all for a week. Nowadays, however, I have to be ready at the newspaper every day. You can get the flavour of everything you do, and I've been collecting impressions all the time. After all, work in the editorial office was also creative, particularly when I was artistic editor for the magazine Skola un Ģimene ("School and Family"). I enjoyed my work, and there were all sorts of opportunities! For example, I could commission an original illustration or cover. And after all, our magazine was the first to publish comics - back in the 1980s! The comics, illustrations and covers were by Subačs, Kucins, Laganovskis, Kirke, Purmale, Atis and Gunārs Lūsis, Sietiņš, Kreituse, Poikāns, Breže, Vorkals, Priedīte and even Juris Petraškevičs! I knew what everything cost and what I could offer: a double page spread, a quarter of which was 20 roubles. A cover was 50 roubles. Vilnis Zābers created a cover with Gorbachev and called his work "The White Snow". Miervaldis brought him to our office when he himself was unable to create the cover. There was also a cover design by Vija Maldupe, who concentrated her painting on the page in such a way that there was room left for the text... I really liked working in this manner at the magazine. I.B.: But this was after you'd stopped making screen prints! A.I.: The last screen print was the interior of the architects' café. For this, we made extensive use of our earlier discoveries. It was all printed on hardboard, which permitted textured prints and gave the effect of a tarnished coin or metal. It was important to me that surfaces and textures of the work would create an impression of antiquity, since we used images of Old Riga, taken from engravings. Then the situation changed. Aldonis became completely occupied with work for the Art Workshop and commissioned work. There were changes in my private life. And so it all came to an end. I.B.: Are any of the screens you used for your prints still preserved? A.I.: Every thing has a story to tell. I think only about four screens are left. Certainly, there's the screen for the exhibition by Līga and Miervaldis. Then there's the screen with "Rock Carvings" - positive and negative. Now they all have a different value and give rise to other ideas. Once I had the idea of trying to photograph the screens against a variety of backgrounds - indoors, out of doors with green trees in springtime, or walking with the screen on the beach, so that an image is seen on the water surface. Under the "Rock Carvings" is a female nude... Nowadays, the technologies and the times have changed. But, if a work had value, then it is definitely retained. But that would be entirely different visual material. A continuation might be prints at a different scale and in large formats, achieving an effect on fabric. The main thing is that it should be interesting for me once again! Among my old works, I'm particularly proud of that one small screen print on veneer, for which I've used a photograph from a performance by Andris Grīnbergs and Inta Grīnberga. The faces are hard to see, and the work is even harder to reproduce, since it's covered in textures and this indeterminate grey-green tone, which is so varied and changeable, depending on the light. This is an icon I've created myself, one that I like so much that I'd even take it with me in my grave... | |
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