AN INTERVIEW WITH JON MAYOR.
by Brett Van Emst
– First published in May 2003 on MidnightMind.com
Jon Mayor is an author/photographer living two El stops west of Chicago in the warehouse district. His place is on the second floor of a nondescript building. When you walk in, you get the sense that Jon lives inside his work – his paintings are on the walls, his desk is a mess of paper and appointment books. He wears his hair shaggy now and is muscle and tight t-shirts. It is a bit unnerving at first, but Jon and I go back a long way.
Brett Van Emst (BV): You had a great thing going in NYC, you had produced a film, your art was being shown. Why the move to Chicago?
Jon Mayor (JM): I don’t know. Why the move to Chicago for you?
BV: I think it is temporary but I guess it was because everyone in New York City wears black and drinks mixed drinks. I longed for girls in gray sweatshirts that advertised what Midwest school they went to who drink Bud Light. Speaking of that, you are back in the home state of the College you attended, Brad-lick University. Were you into the arts very much at Brad-lick?
JM: I was a lot more into the girls in gray sweatshirts I think. Although I think actually they were green or red or blue. And advertised more sororities than Midwest colleges, being probably that we all went to the same college and so… well why advertise that? I don’t know (going back to the first question). It was a strange decision. I was at a strange phase in my development. Staying in NY scared me, leaving scared me, I guess I sort of knew why staying scared me, but I wasn’t so sure leaving did. So I left. If that makes sense. You can always go back to a place, but there’s a very real point I think where you can’t really leave anymore.
BV: I think I read that somewhere. Do you think girls wearing sweatshirts is a mid-west thing?
JM: those non-hooded champion pull over jobs in bright colors with white lettering are a Midwest thing. New York’s more hooded and zip up. Black, gray, dark blue. I had a green gamma phi beta sweatshirt I used to wear around New York every once in a while. But I think it was the only one.
BV: If you were a tree, what tree would you be?
JM: I feel like I’ve gotten hit with a barrage of sentimentality/nostalgia lately, causing me under the circumstances to say somewhat pussily ‘weeping willow’.
BV: Why not an evergreen?
JM: I’m not sure I’m thrilled with the rate in which this interview is being conducted.
BV: Er?
JM: *^&%@#!
BV: So what great work are you working on now? I hear, though it can’t be confirmed by a credible source, that you have a novel in the works.
JM: Confirmed.
BV: Is it sad? You seem to be drawn to sad work like Ordinary People or Mr. Bean.
JM: I think I’m drawn to work that’s real. Life’s fucking sad sometimes (more times than people like to think actually) so it needs to be touched on. I think funny needs to be touched on also, as do other things obviously, but without sad, there’s nothing really personal to overcome. No struggle to be better, thus no real hope, no therapeutic goal or need to prove anything or share anything or search for anything. Sad’s a device I think to help paint a real portrait. A place to start a journey from (in work), to in turn get to write about evolution, beauty, hope, resilience, strength… even glimpses of happiness. And well love of course.
BV: What do you think of Star Trek?
JM: Star Trek sucks.
BV: What about old Clint Eastwood westerns? They were sad but not real, right?
JM: They were real.
BV: You were actually trained as a filmmaker. Why the transition to writing and photography?
JM: I was writing long before my stint in film school. I’d written some fairly decent poetry and a few screenplays that weren’t very good and was just starting to really tap into some very prosey type stories and things. Photography happened later.
BV: Speaking of poetry, what do you think of Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock getting together?
JM: I didn’t even know she sang.
BV: I don’t think she does.
JM: Oh.
BV: So tell me about the next six months.
JM: August – Birthstone Peridot, commonly knows as olivine. The eighth month of the year, containing thirty-one days. The old Roman name was Sextilis, six, the sixth month from March, the month in which the primitive Romans, as well as Jews, began the year. The name was changed to August in honor of Augustus Caesar, the first emperor of Rome, on account of his victories, and his entering on his first consulate in that month.
September, the seventh month, from septem, seven, as being the seventh month of the primitive Roman/Jewish year, which began with March.
November – Birthstone Sapphire. The ninth month of the year in the Gregorian calendar, containing thirty days. From Latin
October – Opal. The tenth month of the year in the Gregorian calendar, containing thirty-one days. From the Latin October, Octo, eight. November – Topaz. The eleventh month of the year, containing thirty days. The ninth month of the old Roman/Jewish year, which began with March. From novem, nine.
December – Turquoise. The twelfth and last month of the year, containing thirty-one days. From Latin December, decem, ten, this being the tenth month among the early Romans/Jews, who began the year in March. During this month, occurs the winter solstice.
January – Garnet. The first month of the year, containing thirty-one days. From Janus, an old Latin deity, the god of the sun and the year, to whom the month of January was sacred.
BV: What is the worst part about writing a novel?
JM: Wanting it to be perfect and accomplish everything you set out to (and thought it would) accomplish when you started. Maybe that’s just the worst thing of writing a first novel, or maybe it’s just the worst thing for me, but you want to squeeze so much in. I do anyway. Concepts, lessons, conversations. Does it, doesn’t it, did I, didn’t I? It drives you fucking batty.
BV: Any correlation to making a film?
JM: Just… well. Not really.
BV: Not even a little bit?
JM: There are obvious similarities. Staying up late, drinking lots of coffee and vodka shots. Smoking cigarettes, the inevitable ups and downs of the creative process, featuring unruly almost manic highs and lows, temporary starvation and sleep deprivation. Elation. Hope. Et cetera.
BV: In a word, describe yourself.
JM: Indispisternoianafo (sp?).
BV: What do you think of the musician John Mayer stealing your name?
JM: I don’t really care about stuff like that. I hear he’s not very good though, which… well… doesn’t really change the fact that I don’t care.
BV: What are your plans for the future?
JM: Keep chipping away at writing, keep shooting photos, getting things done. I have a play I’m trying to get off the ground right now in NY right now, and I’d like to start working on more things like that. Get back in production some, that shit. I’d like to shoot some editorial mag stuff also, keep working with good people. Grow old, feel good about things. Grow older.
JM: Keep chipping away at writing, keep shooting photos, getting things done. I have a play I’m trying to get off the ground right now in NY right now, and I’d like to start working on more things like that. Get back in production some, that shit. I’d like to shoot some editorial mag stuff also, keep working with good people. Grow old, feel good about things. Grow older.
BV: One last question. When going on a trip on an airplane, do you roll your luggage on wheels or carry it over your shoulder?
JM: Depends how long I’m staying.