Finnish artist Saara Ekström talks about transformation, exploitation, violence and the act of collecting images in her new film Shadow Codex
Shadow Codex (Saara Ekström, 2021)
The films of Saara Ekström are recognisable for their focus on symbols, associations, and a desire to both remember and forget the past. Her latest short, Shadow Codex, which premiered in the New Visions strand of this year’s CPH:DOX, is no different. Composed of drawings scratched onto the walls of an abandoned prison, the film is a study of absence and presence. Framing these pieces of graffiti like paintings in a gallery, Ekström provides a haunting glimpse into the workings of the human mind when placed within a monitored environment.
On behalf of ALT/KINO, Patrick Gamble spoke to the Finnish artist about Shadow Codex and her fascination with time and ephemerality.
ALT/KINO: Can you explain how you first came across the prison in Shadow Codex and what prompted you to make a film about it?
Saara Ekström: I’ve always found buildings like this really interesting. The prison is in my hometown of Turku, and despite being in the middle of the city It is an invisible place. It closed in 2007 but was recently purchased by developers who turned it into the most coveted and expensive loft apartments in town. I don’t show this in the film, but I’m interested in how the value of these places changes over time. Transforming from forbidden zones into somewhere coveted.
A/K: You choose not to provide any information about the prisoners, instead opting for a more suggestive approach. What sort of reaction were you hoping to achieve?
The prison housed a mixture of inmates, from those awaiting trial to convicts serving long sentences, but I rarely have people in my work. If you look at the photos used to promote the films at CPH:DOX, I would argue that the majority of them include a person. There’s this unspoken agenda in cinema that you have to communicate through people, but I feel like you always end up interfering in one way or another. To me, It feels safer to accumulate items like these drawings and present them to the viewer. Perhaps I should call myself a collector of images rather than a director, but I always prefer questions to arise from my work rather than provide all the answers. I think that's a much more fruitful state to be in.
A/K: The graffiti ranges from humorous cartoons and sketches to pornographic photos and fascist iconography. What was your first impression when you encountered these images?
SE: The first thing I noticed when I entered the prison was how much creativity there was on display. It really knocks you out when you first see it. What I found most interesting is how these images mirror society. A lot of these pictures relate to today's conversations about toxic masculinity and the #MeToo movement. I don’t believe in censoring my work, and although some of these images are quite disturbing, we have to accept they exist. We live in an over-sexualized world, enforced by various different power structures. For me, this film is a mural of the underbelly of our society and I think it’s very dangerous if we try to deny that.
Shadow Codex (Saara Ekström, 2021)
A/K: The film is accompanied by John Cage’s Perilous Night. What was it that attracted you to this particular piece of music?
SE: This is the first time I've used pre-made music, but I had a strong intuition it would be the perfect accompaniment to the film. It's a fragmented and quite violent piece of music that resonates so well with these images. Then there’s the physical element. Cage inserted screws and bits of metal into his piano to make these disturbing sounds, just like the prisoners were using similar items to scratch their drawings onto the wall. I like how there’s this connection between the materials used in Cage’s composition and the drawings.
A/K: You mentioned this is the first time you’ve worked with pre-recorded music. One of the most striking elements of your earlier films like Amplifier (2017) and Body All Eyes (2018) is their sound design. How did you create these scores?
SE: I work with this fabulous guy called Heikki Kossi. He is a Foley artist and recently in the team that created the award-winning sounds for Darius Marder’s Sound of Metal. He does these huge Hollywood productions then works with me so we can do something a little more creative. He has a really strong dramatic sense and his compositions always respond directly with what he sees in the images. When I made Body All Eyes I told him I was making a film about the spirituality of the preflight era so he collected all these different sounds for me. I don't know exactly what’s in his composition but you can make out the low rumble of engines and various mechanical sounds connected to birdsong. At certain moments you can hear this high beep that sounds like a beacon scanning for life. There’s something about this mixture of mechanical and organic sounds combined with the more spiritual elements of the film that feels really melancholic. The picture really changed when we added his composition. It was like looking at a completely new work. Another important collaborator that has to be mentioned is my editor Eero Tammi. He has this amazing sense of rhythm when it comes to visual storytelling - a rare talent.
Body All Eyes (Saara Ekström, 2018)
A/K: In Amplifier, you also focused on another major landmark; the Helsinki Olympic stadium. What was it about this building that interested you?
SE: I used to have a studio there and fell in love with its modernist architecture. It’s a stadium that was built for an event that never happened! It was completed just before the Second World War, so it didn’t get to host an Olympics until the 1950s. For me, stadiums like this are for mass gatherings and evoke very fascistic imagery. I look at them and see these Leni Riefenstahl visions of athletic prowess. That’s why I worked with a masked dancer. He’s this incredibly athletic person, doing these very unathletic movements. I think huge architectural undertakings like this always convey a message, and if you look closely there is normally some form of exploitation involved. The prison in Shadow Codex, for example, was built by the prisoners it housed, from the granite that was excavated from the site. With buildings like these, if you scrape behind the surface you’ll always find deeper layers of meaning.
A/K: Finally, what are you working on next?
SE: I'm in Iceland, quarantining in a hotel before embarking on my next project. I can't go out or choose what I want to eat. I just sit here and wait for my food to be delivered to my door. It’s not quite the same, but you get a tiny idea of what it must have been like for the prisoners in Shadow Codex. There are no impulses coming in and you feel stripped of nourishment. I'm here for the volcano, Geldingadalir, working on a project focusing on deep time; specifically the memory of place, stones and rock. I’m looking to explore the idea of time continuing and of life being in this constant violent process.
The 2021 edition of CPH:DOX ran from 21 Apr - 12 May
Saara Ekström works in film, photography, text and installation. Ekström’s work has been shown extensively in various museums and festivals in Europe, the Americas and Asia. In 2018 she received the Finnish media art prize AVEK-award.
Patrick Gamble is a writer on film and culture, whose work has featured on Hyperallergic, BFI, Calvert Journal and Kinoscope. Further links to his writing can be found at patrickgamble.contently.com.