Helias Doulis is an artist who was born in Athens, Greece. He studied Film and Writing in the UK, he lives and works in London. Last January he showed some of his work at an Athenian photography exhibition with a sadomasochistic context, along with a play which he wrote and directed. During summer he completed the shooting of his first featured film, which he has directed and written the scenario of.
He’s been out shooting for a clip last night, all dressed up; ‘I’ve never seen myself being so pretty again, they had covered me in glitter, it felt purely natural’, he said, still wearing some of it, and his lingerie. I had met him at a party; so flawless, so careless. He lives at Pangrati, in Athens, Greece. He is just 20 years-old, and he just wants ‘all people to be happy, yet free’. He identifies himself gender fluid and he came out to his parents as ‘gay’. We shared cigarettes, loads of tea, but not the cake I had brought. He had his cake all alone. Crawling in between the bed sheets, staring at me with his light blue eyes, almost mysterious and smiley, yet so frightened. He has been used to scan people from their heads to their toes – aren’t we all though? We’ve been brought up and raised in a state of mind where we recognize discrimination even when our eyes are closed and our backs are turned. I made him cry, I made him laugh. He laughed hysterically, he cried so statically. I’ve been inspecting his eyes for a tear, although he had them all secured and closed. ‘Close your eyes, and think about the last time you felt inadequate to a lover’, I said, and I felt him staring at me with his eyes shuttered, ‘but please, do open them, and look at me the way you’d look at him while feeling so’, and he did. He looked all insufficient, all naked yet covered in silk.