pop — WVMSFF

Q: You describe this film as part of an ongoing series of self-analytical works—how does Normal Litio differ from your previous pieces in terms of approach or intention?

A: Yes, Normal Lithium, in a certain sense, picks up on themes related to mental balance, like In Between, my previous film. But instead of exploring suggestions related to an interview with a girl I found online, it explores myself and what my state of mental balance was and is. As an approach, therefore, I tried to describe through suggestions what I was feeling at that particular moment, but which is cyclical and recurs. It is essentially a journey, an in and out.

Q: Can you walk me through your artistic process for a film like this? Do you begin with a clear concept or image, or does the work develop more organically over time?

A: Normal Lithium began from a moment of rebellion against stasis. The only thing I saw at that moment was a desert. I think it represents emptiness, a space where everything is possible and where presences and ghosts can occupy a place. I knew nothing else when I started. Then a crying child appeared to me; I think it's a telling analogy to my state at that moment. Then the whole thing was a journey that was unknown to me too. Having spent more than a year completing it, I had time, thanks also to dreams or things that happened to me in "real" life, to capture insights and ideas that were relevant to my work and I incorporated them. When I saw a certain scene, I asked my children if I could film them and then redraw them, or in the sketches I jotted down in a notebook, bold and pertinent connections emerged to introduce. The story took shape like this, but only near the end did I understand what the plot was and its design, so through some editing I simply moved the video fragments into the right place.

Q: To what extent do you plan the film—do you storyboard or script heavily, or do you improvise during production?

A: Yes, it's a lot of improvisation, even though I use small storyboards that I jot down in a notebook. I think a small storyboard, of two or three scenes, is good when I feel like the connection with the rest of the work makes sense to me. Then I transform it into animated scenes. The work this way is much more complex and unpredictable, but it has a great freshness and can also surprise you where it takes you. This can sometimes be frustrating if you don't have enough faith in what you're doing.

Q: Did creating this film change your relationship to your experience with bipolar disorder in any way?

A: Yes, let's just say it exposed things about myself that even I didn't know. The most important thing I learned is that closed doors can be opened.

Q: How did working across multiple mediums—such as pencil, watercolor, and marker—influence the final form of the film?

A: Unlike the previous film, I also wanted to use color. Color is very subtle, if not nonexistent, in the first part, then explodes towards the end. I think it plays a strong role; color is predominantly present inside the house. The meaning of the house plays a very important role. I can help by saying that the desert could be internal, so the house has a very specific role in that place.

“It exposed things about myself that even I didn't know. The most important thing I learned is that closed doors can be opened.”

Audio/visual artist, independent and self-taught. Since 2014 his graphic work has been supported from a media research that leads him to the first short videos analogic animated animations inserted in installations with use, in some cases, of videomapping. The use of digital is becoming more insistent and becoming peripheral heather cornerstone of the works to come, the tools he created ates filtered by digital software become input actuators interation, of tuning distortion between the user and the sometimes performative work.

Q: You describe the film as emerging from a moment of creative and emotional paralysis—how did you translate that internal state into something visual and dynamic?

A: When I said creative paralysis, I meant a paralysis of external movement and a lack of clarity in ideas. It was the gesture, the action of the pencil on the paper, that did the rest. Sometimes it takes very little to reverse your mental state; only we get discouraged and don't try. When you plant a seed with a drawing, things emerge in the act; it is in the action of the gesture that you can combat stagnation.

Q: Was the act of making the film itself part of the catharsis you describe, or did that realization come afterward?

A: The filmmaking process helped me avoid sinking into stasis. It gave meaning to my thoughts; let's say it gathered them together to serve its purpose. This was very positive for me. Catharsis comes repeatedly and is never definitive. The film's ending could be cyclical.

“it is in the action of the gesture that you can combat stagnation.”

Q: You intentionally leave elements like the woman, the egg, and the horse open—what role does ambiguity play in your storytelling?

A: I like to leave the meanings up to the viewer. I think the work is very personal, but that doesn't mean anyone will identify with it. For example, the meaning of "woman" is very clear to me; I didn't understand it right away, but then it came to me. But I don't want to make this definitive by explaining it; for someone else, perhaps the meaning is different or they'll find something personal. Maybe it's close to my idea, maybe not, but it's their right version, let's say. The symbol of the egg has always fascinated me, both as a container of life and because it travels between two worlds.

Q: Because you explicitly leave space for interpretation—what kind of engagement are you hoping to create between the viewer and the film?

A: Well, I'd love to achieve total engagement! For example, I showed the film to many friends before submitting it to festivals. Some didn't understand anything, some were captivated by it, some even understood the meaning, others inverted it. Perhaps getting different opinions is very interesting. I'm interested in being able to transport the viewer to another dimension and have them be fascinated. I'd be happy even if they could perceive some meaning in it on a subconscious level.

Q: Do these ambiguous symbols originate from specific personal meanings, or did they emerge more intuitively during the creative process?

A: I think we often think we're intuitive, but in the end, we incorporate elements we carry with us from our experiences. Then, perhaps, at that moment, it appears to you and you connect it. The black horse appeared to me under hypnosis when I was going to a doctor who practiced it. In the vision, that horse ran toward me, and I threw buckets of colored paint at it, but the paint rolled off it, not staining it. Once I approached it, it was docile; it was a friend. I don't know if this vision I had 10 years earlier has anything to do with it, but for me, it does. As for the woman, I can say that she's a constant presence in my life. She plays many roles—wife, daughter, mother—but perhaps in this film, she's something else, or perhaps everything.

Q: How do you determine when a symbol should remain undefined rather than be guided or explained for the audience?

A: I think the meaning should never be explained, but rather suggested. It limits its power.

Q: Are you interested in whether audiences interpret these symbols “correctly,” or is misinterpretation part of the intended experience?

A: I think that even when it's not understood, what has been seen has been perceived and leaves a mark. This is the most important thing. I believe the true meaning must be clearly present in the mind of those who create the work, otherwise it would be merely aesthetic, an end in itself, and therefore sterile.

Normal Litio and other films by Mr. Marianni can be viewed here, on Mr. Marianni’s official Vimeo Channel.

Q: Free Space! If there is anything else you would like to say about your film that we did not cover in the above questions, please feel free to put it here. I would love to know more about your film and film-making process.

A: As I mentioned before, I incorporated many things into the work. For the rotoscope part, I used my films, but I also drew a lot with charcoal in stop motion, that is, drawing and erasing the drawing on itself. The charcoal makes the drawing darker and more timeless, in my opinion. Then I tried using some of my drawings as puppets, breaking them down like a marionette, a comical effect that suited the idea. The intent of this work was to go beyond the previous one, both in technique and content, and I think I succeeded. Now I have to go beyond that. I can add something about the sound. I created many of the compositions myself a few years ago, but they were just sitting there, then they found their way into the work, they fit together perfectly. I also had fun composing the music when the protagonist looks into the colored room and everyone is dancing. I started with various sound fragments and manipulated them in sync. I had a cheerful march in mind as a base, and I kept that rhythm.

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