Visualizing Urban Despair: Insights into Bleak City by Mário Pires
I had the privilege of talking to Mário Pires about his work Bleak City, a project deeply inspired by his growing concerns about urbanization and industrial development. This work is also a deeply personal endeavor, merging his love for Japanese street photography with his experiences growing up and living in Lisbon.
Mário's connection to Lisbon runs deep. His parents grew up in the city, and he himself was raised there, witnessing its transformation over the years. His inspiration comes from what he describes as muses, channeling his growing unease through his lens. Interestingly, Mario is an intuitive shooter who lives by the mantra, “the best camera is the one you have with you,” capturing almost all his work on an iPhone.
With his iPhone always in his pocket, Mário searches for the last green patches, the last breathable spaces, and the places that make a city livable. His search reveals a troubling trend: green spaces are shrinking, and buildings are increasing, but true homes may not be. Mário questions whether these new structures are designed for people or merely for the sake of building.
Throughout the interview, I could feel Mário's deep compassion for his city. Using photography as his mode of expression and drawing inspiration from Japanese photography of the 1960s, he conveyed his thoughts and feelings about the concept of "city" and its constituent spaces. The result is a black-and-white collection with stark contrasts and almost nostalgic images, presenting a vision of Lisbon that could just as easily be Tokyo in the 1960s.
Interview with Mário Pires
Niklas Viola — The title of the work is Bleak City. Is that referring to a specific city, or the experience of a city in general?
Mário Pires: Okay, what I was trying to do was talk about a specific city but in a way that it could be applied to other cities. We have problems with urban development right now, with unregulated gentrification and the destruction of old buildings. There were laws and regulations to prevent that to a certain extent, but here in Lisbon, and Portugal in general, there isn't such a concern, especially after the revolution in '74. So, we ended up with a mess, both outside and inside cities. Even when it was somewhat regulated, the regulations were very loose or loosely applied. We have urban chaos and no real plan. The last plan we had was from the late '50s. There was a borough in Lisbon called Olivais that was built with a plan. After that, in the '60s, there wasn't a real plan. Many people were flooding into cities from the countryside to find jobs, creating a need to build houses quickly. When I was born, my parents lived in one of those houses built around '58/'59. Later, regulations were put in place, but it's very difficult to regulate here due to strong urbanistic pressures. I watch with disgust as buildings are constructed where there should have been parks. I tried to reflect on the destruction of farmland, which applies to other cities facing similar problems.
NV — Speaking of that, you also said on your website that "citizens have to rethink the way cities are built." How is that sentiment reflected in your pictures?
MP: I think cities are more than just the people living in them. I wanted to show cities as if they were abandoned, even though they weren't. There were tons of people where I took the pictures, but I specifically wanted to depict them as deserted. The problem is that people are more interested in acquiring houses than thinking about parks, recreational areas, and rest spaces. Due to growing inflation in Portugal, it's very difficult to buy housing in Lisbon. It's like Maslow's Pyramid: first, we need housing, then we think about the rest. People consider if the housing is in a good neighborhood, if it has parking, and if there are commercial areas. There were developments with almost no commerce, just buildings with people leaving in the morning and returning in the late afternoon, spending the rest of the evening inside. You go to the streets, and there's nobody—no life. Whereas in parts of the city with restaurants, cafes, and nightlife, you see life on the streets. But in most parts, there's none because people just stay indoors.
NV — I'm very interested in how this all plays into the work you’ve done and exhibited at the ephemere. gallery.
MP: I think I'm showing a picture of the future where cities are almost impossible to live in.
NV — So, you're trying to think about the future and where this is going. Is that correct?
MP: Yes, because Lisbon, for instance, doesn't have space to grow due to its surroundings. It's a container, and since the '70s, we've allowed it to be that way. I don't know the solution, but I know this isn't going to end well in 20 years.
NV — Was that the reason why you started putting this into pictures?
MP: As artists, we must express our feelings and convictions through art. Photography is my mode of expression. Artists show things to make a plea: "Please, everyone; planners, citizens, rethink the way we are going because it's not going to end well if we continue this infinite growth strategy." They are building tons of hotels in Lisbon, and I don't know for whom. I'm sorry, I get a little emotional because it's a problem that affects me deeply. I've known Lisbon since 1964/65.
NV — I can understand that. You mentioned photographing a city without vegetation. What does vegetation mean to you, and is that a motif you wanted to highlight in your pictures?
MP: I want people to notice the lack of vegetation, except in a few places. One was a parking lot that no longer exists. It was supposed to be turned into a park, but construction stopped, leaving it in limbo. Most of these pictures are in the outskirts of Lisbon, capturing industrial, urban, and almost rural scenes. There are small patches of fertile land where people cultivate vegetables spontaneously. I wanted to show that, despite the dominance of stone and cement, a little bit of nature still prevails.
NV — I saw a few pictures with vegetation peeking through. Was that intentional to make the viewer question the state of the city?
MP: Yes, in some places, there is still vegetation. For example, there’s a large green area on a hill that was barren until the 1930s. The municipality decided to plant vegetation, and now, almost 100 years later, it's a significant green patch in Lisbon. I love going there, but I fear that urban development might encroach on it. It's a crucial green spot that makes the city livable.
NV — Your style is quite dark and high in contrast. Where does the intention to use such a specific style come from?
MP: It comes from my love for Japanese photography of the '60s. I admire photographers like Fukase and Moriyama who pushed the boundaries of photography. They didn’t care about straight lines or the "decisive moment" rules set by Cartier-Bresson. They experimented with blurry scenes, rain, and large enlargements. I wanted to pay homage to that style because it suits the theme and my intentions. The only Western photographer who approached that style was William Klein. He was as free-spirited as Robert Frank, but the Japanese style goes even further. Sometimes, with certain subjects, you must go raw and shoot without looking.
NV — You mentioned wanting to know what you were shooting. Could you elaborate on that?
MP: I needed to ensure the framing was as I intended, even if I could reframe it later. It’s a bit of a Cartier-Bresson mindset—getting it right the first time. Despite wanting to shoot without looking, certain things, like framing and shutter speed, are choices that the photographer must make. Most of my work was done with an iPhone, using an app to achieve the desired look.
NV — So, most of your work wasn't done with an extra camera?
MP: No, I shot with the iPhone 98% of the time. It was always in my pocket, ready to capture something that inspired me. Most of these pictures were taken during my lunch hour while walking around. The iPhone allowed me to be unobtrusive and spontaneous. You can shoot directly into an app and upload the final picture to Instagram within minutes, creating and distributing in real-time.
NV — Is it mainly because the iPhone is the camera you always have with you?
MP: Yes, it allows me to react quickly when inspiration strikes. I'm very intuitive and react to visual, sound, and light environments. On other projects, I use mirrorless or DSLRs, which are more thought-out. But for "Bleak City," the iPhone was perfect.
NV — On your website, you mention that people need to connect to their unconsciousness. How has this influenced Bleak City?
MP: Inspiration, to me, comes from the Muses—the old Greek muses. They inspire you with something in the air. As an intuitive person, I act on these sparks of inspiration, which delve into my unconscious and allow me to create something unique. It’s a blend of external influences and internal reflections.
NV — When you say Muses, what exactly do you mean?
MP: I mean the Greek muses, metaphorically. It’s about inspiration flowing in the air, whispering ideas to you. It’s a poetic way of thinking about creativity, rather than a technical explanation. I prefer to think of reality as more poetic than factual, even though I’m capable of understanding the technical aspects.
NV — Would you say that inspiration comes from the outside and connects with something within us?
MP: Yes, it’s an external spark that connects with something inside you, creating the catalyst for inspiration. You need both—the outside influence and your internal awareness—to fuel creativity.
NV — Thank you for that explanation. Now, you made the work in Lisbon but exhibited it in Tokyo. What impact do you think exhibiting in a different city had on the work?
MP: Exhibiting in Tokyo was perfect. It was my first international exhibition, turning my self-published book into something more. Anne, who accepted my proposal, even suggested an extended edition of the book. Tokyo faces similar issues, and the aesthetic of Japanese photography links perfectly with my work. I will always remember this exhibition with love and joy.
NV — That’s wonderful to hear! Reflecting on the finished project, what is the biggest insight you gained from Bleak City?
MP: I realized that this work could exist in multiple forms—book, exhibition, and even video. Each format offers a different experience. The book is more private, the exhibition allows for spatial interaction, and the movie can be viewed on various devices. This is the first project where I envisioned and achieved multiple forms of presentation.
NV — Would you say the insight was that you could envision a project in multiple forms for the first time?
MP: Yes, it was the first time I achieved it. I’ve had exhibitions before but never completed the whole idea with multiple expressions. Art allows different means to convey the same message and feeling. With Bleak City, I achieved that. The first edition was self-published; I only have two copies left.
NV — That sounds great, like it went well!
MP: Yes, I think it resonated with people. That is my goal: to create work that people can take home with them.
Anagrams°3 is the accompanying publication for Mário Pires’ first solo exhibition in Tokyo. Both a depiction of how his beloved city has become estranged and a commemoration of his adoration for Japanese new wave photography, Bleak City includes 33 black and white images that, in his words, are “my way of showing that, unless citizens rethink the way cities are built and developed, we are heading for a very grim future.” Curated and produced by Anne Murayama, Anagrams is a newfangled photozine series that spotlights photographers by helping them transform their black and white work into a tangible form.