Not/There

I thought breaks were supposed to help. Why does the cut seem worse than I remember it?

Okay: it’s tempting to throw the baby out with the bathwater. I knew that, as a whole, it wasn’t ready. So instead of jumping down my well of misery, why don’t I try to dissect it?

I’m listening to ‘Visions of Gideon’ by Sufjan Stevens. I can do anything.

My favourite works of art were not born finished. There’s a lot more work to do — so what? Why am I so results-oriented? Can’t I enjoy the process? Is it even possible for me to enjoy this? Love this? Bask in this?

I can easily say that I’ll love this part of creating once I have tasted success. But that just makes me a fair-weathered friend to the art I’m supposed to love. A fair-weathered lover: when did my passion become conditional?

So I’m not making money from my art. Is that part of the package? When did I become so greedy? Do I not love what I do?

I wouldn’t expect a child to do something perfect for the first time.

I love imperfection. Let my art, my process, my self be imperfect, then. It costs no one but myself. And the cost of perfection is even higher. You’re never perfect, no matter how hard you try.

Back to the cut.

STOP: What works? What doesn’t?

• The clips in between both ‘chunks’ work. How we get into and out of them may not be right, but their seemingly random nature kind of works.

• The structure of the opening poses is what I’m after, but the execution is not on point. It’s too long and dulls out the sharpness I’m aiming for.

• Ultimately I want to highlight the tension of the second chunk, where we meet my coach. So how do I deliver the groundwork for that in that first part?

• Also, I need to start thinking about the impact of sound. I usually leave it until later because the visuals are what occupy me at first, but I cannot ignore the presence of sound anymore.

• I don’t like the ending credits, but that’s relatively simple, I can work on that later.

Maybe I will watch it one more time to see what else comes up. I’m currently watching it as an exported file so I’m not tempted to stop and fix it.

(After watching a second time)

In some ways, I feel I need to start from the beginning. Not in an ‘I have to throw out everything I’ve done so far’ kind of way, but because the film is different from where it started. Am I even prepared for that? What that could mean? I’ve been cutting and cutting, trying to get the best sculpture out of this behemoth of marble, and now I have to go back to the crumbs of marble on the floor?

Oh god. I need a cup of tea.

My friend mentioned a toying of expectations in the film, which is something I’m after. She also mentioned being interested in the ‘narrator’ (for lack of a better word) in the film and their relationship to the material being presented. She also talked about ‘intentional dissonance’ — which, if I’m so bold as to look back on my career of half-baked work and things that have seen an audience of maybe 26 people total, is probably a theme of my art.

Is starting again, knowing what I know now, the answer? I wanted the film to be a real-life look at a skater’s career, one who hasn’t known great success, of which there are many. I wanted to play with what people think and what I’ve known. Those expectations when you think you know — and being confronted when you don’t. Do you think you know what an athlete’s life looks like?

Knowing that now, or at least more clearly now, what do I do? What am I playing with?

1. The Narrator

2. The Viewer

3. The Little Girl’s Journey

What do I want to express? Can I break through this barrier? I worry that I can’t. Another two years down the drain —

(After watching it a third time)

The more I look at it, the less I know what to do with it. But that doesn’t mean I’m done…does it?