Efrat Merin
“Whenever a painting is finished it attains a life of its own. I believe this is an essential part of a work's lifespan, it keeps on growing simply by being observed, interpreted, discussed. “
Interview by Brooke Hailey Hoffert
Could you tell us a bit about yourself and your background? Where did you study?
I grew up in Tel Aviv. I studied Fine Arts at HaMidrasha Faculty of the Arts and spent some time studying filmmaking at Tel Aviv University as well. During my studies, I focused mainly on video and filmmaking. I experimented with different mediums, and my final project was a film in still images inspired by Chris Marker’s La Jetée. Some years later I developed an interest in stop-motion and started working on an animation film. While I was making the drawings, designing characters and scenes, I realised it is possible to create a world as if in motion on paper alone. Gradually, I became more and more absorbed in drawing, and the film production slowly sunk into the background. These days I live in South-East London and take part in Turps Studio Programme for painters.
A central motif to your work is the naked form. Can you expand the message behind nakedness being disengaged from sexuality?
I work quite intuitively. I usually have an image in my mind, and when I go about putting it on canvas there is a mutual play between the mental image and the work underway. Whenever a painting is finished it attains a life of its own. I believe this is an essential part of a work's lifespan, it keeps on growing simply by being observed, interpreted, discussed.
Nakedness in my paintings functions differently from classical nudes but also from works that deliberately contest them. I often draw inspiration from myths and dreams, where everything is in constant change, ever-becoming, and accordingly cannot be subject to predefined binaries. I guess the fact that I am a queer artist also finds its way onto the canvas. And so the works offer an alternative way of looking at the naked body, reclaiming its freedom and authenticity, and in particular reverting the female nude from a sex- to power-symbol.
Stay Gold, 2022
The Hunt, 2021
The Dance, 2021
What interests you about mythical narratives and what inspires you to retell them through a queer lens?
I think of myth as a category, a mode of experience that informs our daily lives as well as our dreams and fantasies. I believe each of us, regardless of cultural upbringing, has an internal mythical reservoir, and it is for this reason that mythical narratives are so powerful. They resonate with something deep inside. As such, they contain a forceful subversive potential.
In the oral tradition, myths and folk tales were usually told in a familial context and often by women. When they were written down, almost exclusively by men, they solidified into narratives that carried a patriarchal stamp. One can still occasionally feel a discrepancy between the fluidity of the plot and its subjugation to rigid, normative categories. I think that retelling these narratives in a visual form, while no doubt subjecting it to a queer, contemporary interpretation, actually retains something of their original intent.
What draws you to the sgraffito technique?
Sgraffito (which means ‘scratched’ in Italian) is a technique where two layers of different colours are applied to a surface, then parts of the upper layer are scratched off to reveal the lower colour, creating a textured image.
I discovered this technique, as often happens, by happy chance. I was making an oil pastel drawing and wasn’t very satisfied with the result. Out of frustration, I started scratching the surface, and surprisingly it came out quite nicely. Later, I did some research, experimenting with different materials until I found cold encaustic paints that have this beautiful waxy look and respond very well to this technique. This is what I am using in my sgraffito paintings. I like the reversal element of this method. There is something exciting about removing the paint rather than adding it, kind of like excavating on a small scale.
Birth of Venus, 2021
The Waiting Room, 2021
Witches' Sabbath, 2021
Tell us a bit about how you spend your day / studio routine? What is your studio like?
I share a studio with my three wonderful studio-mates in Turps studios. On a normal week, I spend a couple of weekdays in my studio and also a day or two on the weekend. I don’t really have a fixed routine, but most days I arrive late morning and have a cup of coffee before I set to work until late evening. I found out that a couple of hours of concentrated work is much more effective for me than longer periods of hazy efforts. Some of my energy goes towards staying focused – mostly with the help of many cups of coffee and occasional headstands.
What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?
The last time I visited Tel Aviv, I went to a small screening of the short film “Meshes of the Afternoon” by avant-garde filmmaker Maya Deren. I admire the way she creates a world driven by dream logic, enchanting and terrifying at the same time, where her characters are floating through the vast cinematic space.
Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?
I have two upcoming residencies this year, one in the Frans Masereel Centrum in Kasterlee, Belgium, and another in KHMessen in Ålvik, Norway, and I am also working towards a couple of group exhibitions in London and Tel Aviv. Another project I have been involved in for some time now is a script for a short film that will be directed by a director friend of mine. It is beginning to take form now, and I am quite excited.
All images are courtesy of the artist
Date of publication: 18/02/22
