Summer is long gone and yet, its just around the corner. Meantime, I’ve been watching movies, movies, movies, documentaries for Doc/Fest Exchange, writing, writing, writing and getting our MSc off the ground. At the moment the writing side of things is stewing, slow surfacing and needing more attention but its working itself out. Its sort of on a horizontal plane, finding a way in and out of itself. Three things got me started – privately blogging for course assignments, reading Susan Sontag: Rolling Stone Interview which made me acutely aware of how writing can take you somewhere.
The thoughts and arguments that get you stuck (and bored), but you write and write, bend it in and around your life and a voice forms, words come and you write and you move on, leaving it behind on the page. I said three things, the third was a writing deadline, which is long gone, yet pressing all the same. I’ve decided this is the last week to spend on it, because I am impatient to move on and get back to writing scripts.
These other stories, old ones, are hovering behind my eyes, well they are images mostly, wanting to come out. The Images have become sharper, moments make sense. A key image reveals itself to me and i know – okay this film revolves round this moment and i can write upto and around this moment. What’s the next one…?
Everything seems to be stuck between life and death, and i really want to move on from that and get closer to composition. Somewhere along the way I lost my left hand, well the intelligence of my left hand, and i want to go back and retrieve it and the only way to do that is to write and play music. It scares the hell out of me and feels impossible, but every new challenge often finds itself, bringing discomfort and fear before pleasure. For this new mountain, I have to find the right collaborator.
Last summer i was watching an orchestra rehearse, over three days, I’d had this script in my head for maybe a year, and it was still where was and then yesterday on a tube in London, the two main characters walked on and sat next to and opposite me, with their instruments. Just to know they exist is thrilling. They were Spanish, which surprised me.
And so i am starting to see these patterns that work away at the top level, in between life and death, and the movement of everyday life going across that and noticing key moments to pay attention to. What do they look like, when you barely see them? And that’s where i want composition to enter my practice.
What the UK is going through with Brexit, felt quite exhausting and is now quite bland – you wouldn’t imagine there was a general election on the horizon, but it is busy writing reshaping the UK. And, in between dreams and reality, this has my attention and makes some stories more urgent than others.