Spaces Between

Our first public screenings of Galore happened these past weeks as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival.

Of course it was bizarre and beautiful to be letting it loose on the screen. Of course it was overwhelming to hear people's thoughts. We can't imagine it could have gone better.

We got to meet and dine and drink with heroes (in the form of Jia Zhangke) and new filmmaking friends (who were also doing the walk of shame around the festival with their films rendering them nude and vulnerable). We got to bliss out to 30 or so new films and remember how many voices are yelling out from the screens. We got to eat endless dumplings, huge vats of chili and to roll around in tequila bars and rock clubs and destroy endless dance floors with bad moves and drunken mauling. We got to share in the celebration of Tim Winton's The Turning (one part of which, Small Mercies, we had made and was hidden amid the 17 diverse treasures in the film). We got to talk shit in front of crowds, present talks, struggle to articulate through hangovers, play heart DJ at the end of emotional nights and hang out with with friends we hadn't seen for far too long.

It is a kind of impossible reflection, thinking back on this first, final letting loose of a film. We were all there pushing it out kicking and screaming and, between the moment of release and the inevitable come down as life comes crashing back into your mind and senses, there is the blissful abyss of all of the sublime conversations where you discover the secrets of your film. People tell you the stories the film brought up in them, or the images that they responded to, or what moved them or outraged them and left them cold. This is the good stuff. The things you can't control or direct. The slippery, elusive space of dream and emotion between the film itself and the audience.

We got some amazing words back in the form of reviews. We also got some clumsy, angry inarticulate words of criticism. None of those words, glowing or disparaging can change the film as it exists in the world. So, it's time to return to the unfinished scripts, the begging and scrimping, the refuelling and reforming of forces to get onto the next thing.

Now, looking at the pile of scripts at various stages of completion, wondering in which direction back to swing the pendulum.

Oh, and PS, I designed this poster for the festival. I'm not sure if it will end up being anything like the release artwork when Hopscotch release the film, but I figured I should share it.

Work #3

My constant declarations of love for Bruce Davidson are getting awkward for everyone. But, here is a recent article in which Davidson provides a handful of 'lessons' and advices on ways to work for aspiring photographers. It's definitely worth a read.

And this brief blog is a convenient excuse to post another of my favourite images by Davidson. (Have I posted it before? If I have, I'm sorry... I told you that this is getting awkward...):

image: Bruce Davidson, East 100th Street

Work #1

"Rule 7: The only rule is work. If you work it will lead to something. It is the people who do all the work all the time who eventually catch onto things. You can fool the fans--but not the players."

Rules #1

escape rigidity

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regain lost innocence

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create structures that constrict

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evade structure through subterfuge

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undermine fear

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embrace sleeplessness

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be childlike

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seek out quiet and chaos equally

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keep eyes wide

Reflection

“My photography is a reflection, which comes to life in action and leads to meditation. Spontaneity – the suspended moment – intervenes during action in the viewfinder. A reflection on the subject precedes it. A meditation on finality follows it, and it is here, during this exalting and fragile moment, that the real photographic writing develops, sequencing the images.

For this reason a writer’s spirit is necessary to this enterprise. Isn’t photo-graphy ‘writing with light’? But with the difference that while the writer possesses his word, the photographers is himself, possessed by his photo, by the limit of the real which he must transcend so as not to become its prisoner.”

Abbas

Keep Human

In Paris.

Killing time between festivals.

Finally, furiously, finishing a script that almost had me beat.

Haunted by the spectres of far too much romanticism about the words scribbled down around these parts.

Still, always work. Always keep human.

Ways of Working #3

You might have seen this already, but I hadn't and if it was any further up my alley I'd be making a right turn.

HOW TO STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST (AND 9 OTHER THINGS NO ONE TOLD ME)

In which the esteemed writer and artist, Austin Kleon of Newspaper Blackout Fame---

--- riffs and reels on how to work, how to live, how to create, how to be, under the following subheadings:

1. STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST
2. DON'T WAIT UNTIL YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE TO START MAKING THINGS.
3. WRITE THE BOOK YOU WANT TO READ.
4. USE YOUR HANDS
5. SIDE PROJECTS AND HOBBIES ARE IMPORTANT
6. THE SECRET: DO GOOD WORK AND PUT IT WHERE PEOPLE CAN SEE IT
7. GEOGRAPHY IS NO LONGER OUR MASTER
8. BE NICE (THE WORLD IS A SMALL TOWN)
9. BE BORING (IT'S THE ONLY WAY TO GET THE WORK DONE)
10. CREATIVITY IS SUBTRACTION

Check it out. If you're interested in process and ways of working, like I am, or immersed in an unfinished project and wondering how you got yourself into this whole damned fucking mess, like I am, then you'll dig it...

HOW TO STEAL LIKE AN ARTIST (AND 9 OTHER THINGS NO ONE TOLD ME)