Proclaimed Cinemotographer 'Chivo' shoots for Lavazza

December 14, 2021

Lavazza has a long history with their high profile yearly calendar. Shot by the likes of David Lachapelle and Annie Lebovitz to name a few. This year Lavazza approached the project with a call to action for positive change. With "I Can Change the World", Lavazza aims to convey the importance of transforming principles into action, offering the compelling example of six extraordinary talents capable of inspiring each of us to have faith in ourselves and believe in the possibility of contributing in a concrete way to change in the world and making it a better place.

The calendar features 'artivists' Ben Harper, Sonita Alizada, Cristina Mittermeier, Dr. Shamell Bell, Shilpa Yarlagadda and Saype. Shot by the extraordinary, Oscar winning, cinematographer Emmanuel 'Chivo' Lubezki. Known for his work with natural lighting, seamless long shots and multi dimensional eye for visual storytelling (ie. The Revenant, Birdman, Children of Men), we sat down with Chivo to discuss his collaborations with these artists and how he hopes it will inspire change.

Interview by Caitlan Hickey
Images Courtsey of Lavazza

You're known for your work using natural/available light, using lighting to evoke or perpetuate emotion. For the calendar you shot multiple images of each subject throughout the day..

Yes, the most important things for me when shooting the calendar were - the subject, the story of the subject, the light and the fragile locations. All the locations were picked from conversations I had with the artists. When you see the calendar it’s a little bit like a puzzle. I wanted all the photos to have a different feeling, to be able to express what was particular to each one of the artists/activists through different light and the different locations. And if you look carefully in the calendar, you can see the different angles of the sun and different angles of the light and the colors of the day.

What time of day/lighting do you respond to most? What emotions does this time of day evoke for you?

Particularly the times that I like the most, that I find the most mysterious, the most poetic and interesting, is the tuscan tones - either very early in the morning or once the sun’s set. In fact the photos that I shot of Saype were shot at like 4am in Alaska. For some reason I just like that time of the day, I think it’s a time when your iris is really wide open and you can see colors you otherwise cannot see. And you can see depth in a different way. They feel to me the most mysterious and the most unused because it’s so hard to shoot at that time, there’s almost no light so cameras don’t respond technically the way you would like. It takes more time, and I would say more knowledge, of techniques to shoot at that time.

There's something very captivating about how you seamlessly shift perspectives in a shot to show the perspective of the talent and the environment simultaneously. How did you incorporate this in the calendar shots?

In some of the shots I wanted you to feel the way I was feeling when I was shooting the photo. And that’s why I picked that aspect ratio, because it allows you to see the artists very close but also to see the environment where they were photographed. It is not easy because you have to work with a certain depth of field and equipment that allows you to do that, but it was a challenge I wanted to take. And again I wanted to feel that if you make these photos really large, the way you would watch a movie, they would hopefully be very immersive.

Typically the world in which the character is in tells us a lot about them or how we should feel about them. In Revenant you chose the forest in BC for the bear fight scene because of the tall trees, giving an exaggerated perspective to Leo’s size and his vulnerability. This built tension and, I believe, an extra sense of marvel at his triumph. How did you choose the location for each artist’s in the calendar and what does this reveal to us about them?

I had a lot of conversations with the artists, the conversations at the start are very, almost feel superficial - where do you want to shoot? How do you want to be portrayed? What clothing are you wearing? And then from these conversations I can start to almost dig into their subconscious. And these took me into looking for locations. When I was talking to Ben [Harper] about his guitar, the wood of the guitar, the importance of this swamp came up. So I went to look for swamps that I could shoot him at - somewhere he was not going to be eaten by crocodiles - and I presented the photos to him. His reaction was very visceral, he said, ‘Yes, that is exactly who i am! The wood of my guitar comes from here and the sound of my guitar comes from here’. And even though these conversations were slightly esoteric in a way, not very clear, it helped me dig into who they are, how they see the world. Funny enough, I found out the location was a few miles from where the first slaves came to America, where music was brought from Africa - that became blues, that later became jazz, that later became rock, that later became Ben! So there were all these interesting coincidences that I think, even though I don’t like to talk about the photos or explain all these things, I’m always hoping the audience will pick up on or maybe I’m hoping too much, ha!

Well it’s interesting you say that because you know the old law of attraction, we are drawn to certain things, and sometimes you don’t even know why, and for him to be so drawn to that location without knowing the history..

When you see the images there’s some ambiguity but when picking the locations it really came from within their, I don’t know, their subconscious, the things they reacted to in a very primal way when I showed them the location options. You know Cristina [Mittermeier] said she, ‘I really need to be shot in Mexico, I have to be shot like a woman. Everyone has shot me as a diver many many times where I’m completely covered in equipment, I would like to be in a dress with flowers like Frida Khalo’. So we went to Mexico to shot her like that and it came out so mythical.

You know I’m a cinematographer so I usually work with a director. I would say what I do is listen to the director and I try to help them translate their ideas into images. So I made the artists/activists the directors and tried to turn their ideas into photographs.

What were some of the secrets embedded in each shot?

For example, Saype he wanted to be shot in the grass because he’s used to shooting there, thats where he feels very comfortable but when I saw the entirety of the calendar I didn’t want to shoot another green environment. So I invited him to go to the ice. What I love about the ice, the secret about the ice is that, well Saype’s work is very ephemeral, you can only see his work from high up and his work only lasts a few days or weeks because of the pigments he uses. So I said ok, lets shoot him in a very ephemeral place. The morning that we were taking the helicopter to shoot at this location and the location had vanished, the entire lake the size of football fields was just gone like into a toilet, just disappeared. But that’s why I wanted to shoot him in this type of location.

I was wondering what kind of environmental issues you had when shooting the calendar..

The whole shoot happened during the summer of 2020 and it was the hottest summer in the history, so we had tremendous issues. The last artist that I was going to shoot was Shilpa [Yarlagadda] and the location that we picked for her, we couldn’t get to it because the roads were so hot, the wheels of our car were melting. She wanted to shoot near a volcano because all the materials she works with come from the crust of the earth. We originally wanted to go to Iceland but we couldn’t because of covid, and then we picked this volcano that we couldn’t end up getting to. But it was kind of ironic that we were working with these artists that are so aware of what’s going on with global warming and global warming was stopping us from getting to the places we wanted to. With Cristina [Mittermeier] I wanted to have one shot in the Mangrove because the Mangrove is an ecosystem that is disappearing in Mexcio and it is almost like the lungs of the ocean, you know the water goes into the Mangrove and gets cleaned by this vegetation and goes back. And when we were shooting in Tulum, in the Sargases the seaweed was overtaking the ocean and it’s the seaweed that has overgrown because of the fertilizer in the Amazon. And that’s not explained in the calendar, I don’t know if that’s a mistake but I just hope the audience can feel it. Or when you go to research about Cristina [Mittermeier] that you can learn what she’s doing there. The objective of the calendar is in a way to amplify the voices of these artists and activists. And I hope we can achieve something from this. But you know I didn't want to go to a place that was completely destroyed. I wanted in the calendar to have a little bit of hope.

I picked up on something you mentioned in a previous interview where you eluded to the amount of waste when the set had been torn down after a movie. How do you hope the world of film will embrace eco friendly practices now and in the future?

You know sometimes we’re building all these sets and we are not thinking how to recycle. The film industry can be very wasteful but I have a feeling that most of the studios and more than the studios, most of the people in the industry are very aware and I feel change happening which is very exciting. In the last couple of movies and commercials you can see how important it is for the production not to use things like fuel, they are looking how not to waste fuel or wood, there’s more awareness. I just hope there’s enough time still.

How do you take your coffee?

Espresso, just espresso.

Culture

Mowalola x Miss Sixty Launch with H. Lorenzo

I swing my legs over the ropes that guard the VIP entrance. Always over (I’m 5’10), never under. I’m late to the H. Lorenzo x Mowalola event, and the line wraps around the block. I don’t want to be an asshole, but I hate waiting in lines; it just ruins everything.

“Hey, my friend is DJing right now. My name should be down,” I say.

The youngish security guard looks me up and down. I have made an adventurous choice for this type of crowd. Neon pink hoodie, bright orange vest, my Raimundo jeans, and Jeremy Scott animal print sneakers. I let him take me in and look over his shoulder. Hmmm… I will be swathed in darkness when he lets me in. Dark night, dark clothes, dark makeup, furs, hoods, leather accessories, and sunglasses. I don’t recognize anyone, but it’s hard to tell who anyone is because I can’t see after 8 pm without my glasses. Night blindness. I can still catch a vibe though.

“She’s in the bathroom,” Mr. Guard says, interrupting my squinting.

“Who?” I ask.

“The woman in charge of the list.”

That’s a drag. I want to dance. Lately, I’m going out in the name of music.

“So…can I go in?” I ask.

“Just wait for her to get back.”

That sounds fine. I wait. The outdoor smoking area is packed. I hope the inside mirrors this, maybe with people dancing instead of blowing smoke in each other’s eyes.

“You got instagram?” The guard asks me after about ten minutes of flirting.

“Can I go in?” I said.

He laughs. He lets me in the event without a wristband.

Inside, I understand why the other guard was gone for so long. I make a mental note to not drink too much liquid; the bathroom line is almost as long as the line to get in. The party is popping, far from a flop.

I push through the crowd solo, following the speakers to the DJ booth. The immersive visuals provide me with enough light to make out Mowalola in a gold bikini and her low rise denim. My pulse races like the horse printed on the front of her coochie. That’s the point of the collection, obviously.

I spend a good thirty minutes grinding my hips before swaying to the open bar. I smile to myself, noting that it’s a mezcal forward menu. I see a drink that disgusts me, so I order it without hesitation. It’s a mezcal coffee concoction. My heart ’s ran through already, why not go all in? I hear Shigecki’s set start so I head back to dance. I’m jumping around, sweating, and I yelp when I pause for a beat. Strippers have materialized and are working poles opposite and behind the DJ booth. Good. Events should be sexy.

I end the night smoking my friend’s Korean strawberry cigarettes taking in the air of cool- when a man comes up to me wild-eyed exclaiming that we look just like one another. I look at him- no, not at all. I turn slowly, remembering what I should be doing: listening to DJ G2G’s set. Back inside, she is playing reggaeton type beats with lasers beaming out of her headphones (I want these). A rave in it of herself.

Too bad all the events end at 2 am in LA.

Culture

Vans Pipe Masters 2024

On the first night, Steve Van Doren and the Vans team hosted the heat draw for the competitors at a casual backyard barbecue. The son of Vans’ co-founder Paul Van Doren, Steve has worked in the family business for decades, and is now known as the Ambassador of Fun. Wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a cowboy hat made out of old shoes, he was definitely dressed for the part. The surfers, along with family and friends gathered in a relaxed setting as 40 men’s and 20 women’s names were drawn from a shoebox. The competition would run in 3 rounds, the top 4 men and 4 women with the highest scores moving onto the finals. When asked about their strategies, most gave answers along the lines of “get waves.” Refreshingly simple.

After waiting a few days for favorable conditions, the first day of competition kicked off with Women’s Round 1. It was finally time to see Pipeline in action. Banzai Pipeline is known as one of the most dangerous places to surf due to the powerful waves breaking over shallow and sharp reefs. With the potential to crash into the rocky edges or have leashes caught in caves, it takes a ton of skill–-and even more courage–to surf here. No stranger to these risks, the first heat included favorites Caity Simmers and “Queen of Pipeline” Moana Jones Wong, who showed off exactly why they’d been successful here in the past. Midway through the heats, Mother Nature decided to throw in another element as a light drizzle turned into a proper downpour. Rain or shine, the athletes went out unfazed, focused on getting their first points on the board.

After another short day’s break, the competition continued with the women’s second round and the men’s first. The beach was filled with spectators, locals and tourists alike, as the competition was free for all to attend. While fans rooted equally for the women and men, the most popular were the local Hawaiian athletes, which made up about half the competition. The women started off the day again, hyping up the crowd with incredible rides. One ride by Bettylou Sakura Johnson earned the first Bag of Cash of the day– a cash prize (of undisclosed amount) awarded in a brown paper bag to any surfer that pulls off a wow moment, excites the crowd, and pulls off something spectacular regardless of what the conditions might look like.

Winds picked up as the men’s competition began and two strategies quickly emerged: an aggressive approach, targeting any decent waves to build small scores; and a patient approach, waiting for the perfect wave to chase a high single score. Even the waves that were unrideable were a spectacle in itself. The sheer size, illustrated by the length of surfboards riding up and over, and the following crash of white water spray was hypnotizing. Then imagining having to experience it out on the water, duck diving under or being lifted over, brought a renewed respect for the surfers.

After watching these early rounds, it was time for office to head back to the cold. With the competition officially spanning from December 8-20, it seemed the forecast was gearing up for some massive waves— and it didn’t disappoint. Following from afar through Vans’ Instagram and live updates, we saw the full extent of what it means to surf at Pipeline. After a series of electrifying and daring surfs, the 2024 winners were crowned: Erin Brooks and Nathan Florence.

The thrill of watching top athletes compete at the highest level of their sport, even remotely, never fails to inspire. Few sports surrender so completely to the forces of nature as surfing does. And at its core, surfing is all about having a deep respect for the ocean—its unpredictable whims, its immense power, and its ever-changing moods.

Culture

The Cost of Queendom

December 17, 2024

One summer afternoon in New York, a few days after their New York premiere of the acclaimed documentary Queendom, office met up with documentary filmmaker Agniia Galdanova and producer Igor Myakotin at a tattoo parlor on the west side of Manhattan. While Agniia received a tattoo of the portmanteau “DOCU CUNT” across her fists, she — unfazed by the needle on her knuckles — answered our questions alongside Igor about the making of the stirring story that has traveled around the world.

One of the opening scenes of Queendom depicts a ritual many of us are all too familiar with in the 21st century. Jenna Marvin, the documentary film’s central subject, takes her friend along with her to take photos for Instagram. When she finds a suitable backdrop, she poses, poses, poses, and then reviews the photos. Dissatisfied, she gives her notes, and then returns to pose, pose, pose again.

By Brook Aster
Photos by Liv Solomon

The ritual may be familiar, but nothing else about the scene — from its setting to its stakes — is ordinary. The backdrop behind Jenna is a sweeping expanse of ice and snow in a small Russian port town called Magadan. Jenna is dressed in drag, but not drag of the Rupaul’s Drag Race variety; her drag has been referred to as “creature drag.” Her signature white face paint, platform heels and surrealist costumes, with their exaggerated sculptural proportions and use of duct tape and repurposed items, catches the ire of her neighbors and the love of online admirers alike. Jenna eventually accrued a following on social media for her public and technically illegal drag performances, which often involved little more than her walking or being in public spaces but nevertheless were often met with abuse and threats of imprisonment.

But when Agniia first encountered Jenna, she hadn’t yet reached the level of virality that would eventually come in the years to follow. The filmmaker was researching different drag performers in Russia for her sophomore project, which she thought would be a docuseries, when she heard from a friend about a young drag queen from Magadan. “I was like, this is impossible. I have to meet this person,” Agniia remembers. “And I could not actually go meet her because I was in Moscow and she was in Saint Petersburg, so I sent a friend of mine with whom I’d been studying with in film school, and she went and filmed the sample.” The simple video, showing Jenna and her friend getting dressed up for a party, struck something in Agniia. The drag was an earlier, more prototypical version of the style Jenna is now known for; less duct tape and ornamentation, but still that signature striking makeup. “Something sparked. I knew I just had to stick to this feeling,” Agniia says. She decided to turn the docuseries into a documentary solely focused on Jenna.

Around that time, the entire world came to a grinding halt: the onset of COVID-19 pandemic had just led to lockdowns around the globe. With only a couple thousand followers on social media at that point in time, Jenna had tried to branch out and connect with other drag artists in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but faced rejection; her drag was extremely unconventional, and not even other drag artists quite understood it. “I think we found each other at the right moment, because nobody knew what to do, how to cope with all this,” Agniia says. “Jenna was saying that she was lost, and she also didn't know how to develop her art next.”

Unlike some of the other artists Agniia had initially researched, Jenna didn’t need much convincing to allow the camera into her life. “[Especially] after COVID came, there wasn't really [any] drag in my life,” Jenna recounts when I speak to her later over Zoom. “I realized that what drag is for me is not just a costume, a dress, something that you leave, that you take off and then in the dead of the night you put back on. Later, I understood that this is who I am, that I am art and I am drag, and that this is way bigger and more important than just clothing or costume.”

[LEFT TO RIGHT: Agniia Galdanova, Jenna Marvin, Igor Myakotin]

When it came time to move into production stages, Agniia sent a clip to Igor, who had been referred to her by a past colleague. When Igor saw the footage, he was similarly struck by Jenna — and even more struck to find out she shared his small hometown of Magadan. “It was just so fateful to know that I also come from this town, and I've never seen it through this cinematic lens, through the vision that Agniia has,” he says. “I was mesmerized by the footage, mesmerized by Jenna. I thought to myself, I have to do everything I can [for us] to work together, whatever the collaboration is gonna be.”

The two followed Jenna for over three years; Agniia first relocated to St. Petersburg, where Jenna had taken up residence after leaving her grandparents’ home in Magadan, and later Jenna moved in with Agniia in her home in Moscow. All the while, Igor and his team worked remotely from the United States to meet Agniia’s production needs. Inevitably, with all their time spent together, Agniia and Jenna became close.

“There is an unspoken rule in documentary filmmaking that you have to keep this line, and you can’t overcome certain boundaries,” Agniia explains. “In my first film, it was not an easy subject [to do this with] as well. I was following a family for seven months, and [we became] close, but I always was trying to keep my distance, and was constantly thinking about it. How much should I say? How much should I give?” But as she got to know Jenna, it became clear that this time, that distance wouldn’t be possible. “With Jenna almost from the very beginning, I was like, fuck it. That’s not going to work with this one. I'm going to break this rule 100%. I never regretted it, because that's actually what built up the trust that is there.”

As Jenna's public performances continued and began to garner more public attention, her online audience multiplied. Among her virtual admirers was French fashion maven Michèle Lamy, who would eventually sign onto Queendom as an executive producer. Lamy's discovery of Jenna led to an invitation to walk in the Rick Owens show in Paris — her first time modeling, and her first time leaving Russia in her life. Of course, Agniia and her camera followed. But most of their excursions were not so glamorous; many of Jenna's performances shown in the documentary were undertaken at a real risk to her physical safety, and by extension, to the safety of Agniia. But neither of them were daunted.

I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.

After all, Jenna was used to both taking risks and documenting them well before she was the subject of a film; she and her friends long filmed the often impassioned, sometimes violent reactions of strangers and policemen to their mere existence in public spaces in drag. And after a protest performance in which she wrapped herself in the Russian flag, Jenna was kicked out of beauty school, her last attempt at a practical route before pursuing her drag as a full time venture.

The only time Agniia tried to dissuade her was on Paratrooper’s Day, a Russian military holiday often characterized by the drunk soldiers roaming the streets. The risk for violence was especially high. “On Paratroopers Day, people say you can't come out in skinny jeans or with nail polish,” Jenna describes. “[I think] you should do the opposite. You should really make a statement and come out wearing what you want to wear. I think that clothes, what we wear, is really at some point beyond our psyche, our mind, our understanding. It is as if it's a certain kind of spice that is enticing you and you follow the scent of that spice and you don't see anything else except that scent and you follow it. That's how I see it.”

“I was like, ‘girl, maybe we should not do that,’” Agniia says. “Igor was stressing out and she told us, ‘well, you don't need to follow me. I'm gonna go and do it. I don't care if you're coming or not.’” In the end, Jenna ventured out for her performance anyway, protesting the then-recent invasion of Ukraine. Agniia followed. Not shown in the film is that the two were arrested, and managed to talk the police out of their arrest.

Not too long after, she would have to leave Russia again, this time moving for Paris for good; the film follows her struggles to get a visa in time to leave the country after the onset of the war. “It's already been three years that I've been in France, and it is important for me to understand and remember who I am, and to remember that pain, those moments when we were back in Russia doing drag, fighting with the police and law enforcement,” Jenna says. “It is important that this resistance continues and that those voices are not being silenced. Yes, here there’s much more freedom, there are pride parades and queer people can get married, but this is an illusion because there are also places where you cannot get married and you cannot enjoy the same freedoms. I cling to who I am, who I was from the very beginning. I remember who I am. And this is what carries me through this life.”

“Meeting Jenna gave me hope for the future of the country, because governments come and go, people in power come and go, but the generations change at the same time,” Igor says. “So it warms my heart to see that someone like her came from somewhere like that. If I saw her back then at a similar age, it would be even more personal. I think I would’ve accepted myself as gay quicker, and I wouldn't be nervous or closed and not open to the world or myself… Working with this project also meant that we were amplifying the voices of many, many people who couldn't speak like Jenna could.”

For Agniia, the honor of telling Jenna's story is only paralleled by the honor of having her in her life. “We found each other,” Agniia says. “And what I learned from Jenna is so precious; about life, about art, about surviving. And I appreciate it a lot. This film grew so much larger than just a documentary, because I have a family now, a working family.”

Queendom is now available to stream on Apple TV.