You know about fast food.
Perhaps you also know about slow food.

Well, along with slow food came slow travel, slow shopping, and slow design.

I wonder if it's time to consider slow FILM.

The whole slow movement has been quietly ticking away for a while now.

In 1999, Geir Berthelsen formalised the movement with The World Institute of Slowness.

Professor Guttorm Fløistad summarises the philosophy of the slow movement like this:

Fast shorts

Whether creating or viewing, we like our short films fast, or short, or both.

With faster tools to write, shoot and edit films, we naturally assume that producing quality films can happen faster.

The Campfire Film Festival features just 5 short films at a time, allowing 3 months for viewers to absorb the small selection along with the broad range of responses from our key reviewers.

OK OK, I’d be lying if I were to say that a slowness philosophy was the only reason for going slow. There's also the reality that we're limited by lack of time and resources. But the more I think about expansion and improvement of what we do, the more I see the value in investing time and exposure in just a small number of select films. We want to do more than simply grow in the number of films we present, and the number of buttons and features on our site. Albert Einstein said,

“Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to move in the opposite direction.”

The internet is a truly remarkable place, with so many exciting things happening everywhere around the world.

This is great news for filmmakers, and for those of us who believe that short films can make our world a better place. I’ve added links (see our links page for fuller description of each) to a few sites that I’ve come across just in the last week.
Pangea, Media that Matters, Slum-TV and One world TV

For anyone interested in how I came across each of these, Pangea was a ‘StumbleUpon’, Media that matters came up in Google search for short films, SlumTV I heard about on a report by ABC Radio National’s “Media Report” team who interviewed the key instigators. One world TV came from a Wikipedia entry that listed every video hosting site.

The sites supporting filmmakers are growing weekly, and the good things is, there’s a different perspective (or niche) for each. Campfire, for example, remains committed to quality short films of spiritual significance, with an emphasis on discussion and rigorous debate in a constructive environment.

We support all efforts to promote short films that aim higher than simply self-promotion or advertising a product to sell. So to the rising swell of fellow sites, we salute you - and the people you encourage.

Filmmakers of the world – GO!

Julie Rigg interviewed Nicole Kidman recently about her involvement in a new film, Margot at the Wedding. As they discussed the ‘smaller, riskier films’ that Nicole tends to do best at, I was struck by what she said:

“I’m drawn to directors that I consider to be philosophers. You can’t always make films like that (Dogville, Margot at the Wedding) because they don’t get the money… and there’s not very many scripts that are written with big ideas.”

For an actor of Kidman’s callibre, experience and Hollywood stripes, I found this refreshing. She sets a high benchmark for what filmmakers can and should aspire to be – modern philosophers – uniquely gifted to offer perspectives on life in a most eloquent way.

‘Philosophical directors’ Nicole Kidman has worked for (as listed by Rigg):
Alejandro Amenabar, The Others
Jonathan Glazer, Birth
Lars Von Trier, Dogville
Gus Van Sant, To Die For

Just a quick note to say that the films are in, our 'faith respondents' are busily writing their short reflections, and we hope to launch later this month.

Stay tuned!

Dear Tali,

It’s been a little while since I wrote. So sorry – life is getting so busy these days.
There are so many things to deal with I sometimes wonder where to start. I get overwhelmed. I heard a rumour that you were a bit, too.

In fact, it’s about being overwhelmed that I wanted to write to you about.
I’m sure there’ll be psychologists in years to come – if they’re not already doing so – who’ll have fancy names for what we experience when we go online: being google-eyed, web-weary or having you-tube fatigue (only I’m sure they’ll use latin names).

I’m especially thinking about creating for online.

I hate when you think you’ve created something original – a painting, a poem, a short film, a website – then you go online, and you find that tens, hundreds, maybe even THOUSANDS of people have already had similar ideas before you! It can be soooo depressing.

I came across this art book yesterday where the author, listing all the periods of art in the history of western civilisation, comes to something interesting about the period generally called “the twentieth century” and tries to sum it all up. I like what he says:

"Make it new" was the poet Ezra Pund's dictum, and the one constant in the arts of this turbulent and phenomenal century has been a seemingly inexhaustible quest for originality and freshness. (Dennis Spore, 'Introduction to the Arts in Western Civilisation', Prentice-Hall, 1990)

Widely touted as one of the wisest rulers on earth, king Solomon wrote these words: "there is nothing new under the sun" (Ecclesiastes 1:9) So if there’s nothing new, why do we create? Or how do we avoid becoming depressed when we create work that goes online?

Here’s five little ideas. It’s not a complete list, but you may find it useful – or maybe you could write back and add to it:

Your creation is unique

There are almost seven billion people on the planet. Almost every person has the same physical gear – a body, head and limbs – yet every single one of these people are unique and different. In the same way, your creative work is unique. This fact alone makes whatever you create different and special.

Popularity is no measure of success

Everyone online has ways of checking how successful your work is – hits to your website, friends on FaceBook, number of downloads, dollars earned – we’re obsessed with measuring everything. It’s like the world’s most savage popularity contest. But you know as I do that popularity isn’t everything. Only one person gets to be the ‘best’ or ‘most popular’; and even then, that kind of popularity doesn’t last. Jesus said that ‘he who is the least among you is the greatest’. He flips our whole centre of value and importance on its head. I find that pretty refreshing.

Being online gives some opportunity to connect

One response to web depression is to become a hermit. Just hide away and sulk. Please don’t do that. We are social creatures. We’re meant to live in community. Regardless of how popular your creative work is (or NOT), putting it online provides an opportunity for others to connect with it. Have you heard of Pareto’s principle or the 80-20 rule? In selling terms, it says that "80% of your sales comes from 20% of your clients." It’s the same with connecting your art to others. If five people see your work online, and only one stops to appreciate it, you have made a most valuable connection. Maybe you have lifted their spirits for a moment, challenged them to think, made them laugh, cry or engage in life more. You might get an email from them or even make a new friend. Above all, you have connected. And that is a precious thing.

Learn from the clouds

I’ve heard your mum complain that you’re a bit of a dreamer with your ‘head in the clouds’.
Well, while your head’s up there – study what you see! Every single day, God puts on the most amazing sky-show, but only some of us notice it. Sometimes I think the clouds actually look like a masterful painting, with the grand, sweeping strokes and surprising flourishes of colour. You’d think God would get tired of it – but no! Every day, no every minute, right throughout history, another unique masterpiece has been created for every single location on the planet. We are made in God’s image. We should do the same. Who cares if it gets seen or not!

If not now, maybe then

Sometimes things take time to grow. Maybe your early work has not been noticed or it seems much lower standard than everything else online. Don’t give up. There are the great stories like Einstein’s, who was a considered a poor student, yet ended up becoming the greatest scientific mind of the 20th century. Maybe your work will be discovered… next week, next year, next decade… maybe not even in your lifetime! Who (or what) can really measure the eternal worth of your handiwork? Surely not some crude little hits counter.
In the end, that’s not what matters.

Using the internet to put forward your creative work may be new,
but many others before you have felt as you have.

Take heart, dear Tali,
and know that you are not alone.

Rich

Scientists work out if something is alive by asking a few basic questions:
Does it breathe, eat, grow, respond, have DNA, excrete and reproduce?

That's fine for a physical thing, but what about something less tangible,
like an idea or a concept? What about...
• the memory of a loved-one
• a work of art
• an organisation
• Christmas
• God
... how do I know if these things are alive?

Andrew Waywood, a deep thinker on education I met briefly many years ago, had a theory about this which I've never forgotten. His 'test' for if something living was this:

Does it speak,
or is it spoken about?

To me, this is a most profound way of working out if something is alive or not, and goes to the heart of what being alive is all about. A friend of mine suggested this is what “memes” are all about. Perhaps.

As a brief footnote to this, Campfire has now been 'alive' for roughly one year. A few weekends ago a few of us caught up to look at the way forward, and it's clear that there are some exciting new developments ahead. Stay tuned.

Tali is a fictional character. She is a visual artist interested in filmmaking, still in secondary school in her mid-late teens. As Tali explores the world with fresh eyes, my own eyes are opened to new ideas and trends. Tali has grown up in a Christian family and as Christian myself, I naturally want to encourage her to expand her faith as she expands her understanding of the world through photography, filmmaking, and art in general. As you might guess, Tali is based on a few real friends of mine, about 20 years my junior.

Dear Tali,

Thanks for the link to all this Lomo (and Holga camera) stuff. I think the idea of ‘getting back to the roots’ of photography – which is what it all seems to be about – is really interesting.

It reminds me of how I first fell in love with photography when I was about 10. I built a pinhole camera and played darkroom magic, processing everything in our shower late into the night. So I’m fascinated by some of these ‘lomographic’ images that return to this rudimentary style. The funny thing is, though, it was actually digital cameras which made me fall in love with stills in recent years. I guess digital is taboo in your circles, yes?!

In the moving image realm, have you heard about Dogme filmmaking? There’s another ‘return to roots’ movement you should look into. Then there’s this more recent Lego animation craze. Fantastic concepts and stories told with the most basic techniques.

For me, what I find MOST interesting is the question of what we do with it all.
And for me particularly, what does it mean to be a Christian artist?
How does this search for new modes and styles both REFLECT our unending search for real expression (or "inexhaustible meditation" as Flaus says) on the one hand,
and cause it to ILLUMINATE the world to a more complete image of Christ,
on the other?

That's my creative quest!

Rich

PS. Have you heard about these ‘red’ cameras? Unlike the Lomo philosophy, this is all about the boys chasing bigger & better toys. The paradox is, I think I’m one of them too!

The trouble with honesty is it’s bad for your brand.

I work in an industry that’s obsessed with image: putting your best foot forward and giving the most positive impression about a particular marketable item or service. Any whiff of negativity is just NOT ON. Edit it out. Don’t give the competitor an inch.

It’s perhaps why I’m equally as obsessed about spirituality that does NOT play these same games.
I LOVE honesty in religion.
I LOVE honesty in art.
Images that do NOT sit well with the whole picture or the ‘grand narrative’ I find particularly appealing.

Take these quotes, for example.
“Everything is meaningless”
“For with much wisdom comes much sorrow. The more knowledge, the more grief”
You wouldn’t guess they were straight out of the bible (Ecclesiastes 1:2, 1:18), especially if you only listened to the well-marketed Christianity of our western civilisation.

It’s also what makes Mish Mumkin so gripping. If I was Ramzi, devout Muslim, I would have edited out the scenes with the father, or at least re-shot a few lines. Rising in aggression, Father orders his son not to see his girlfriend, saying “even if your eyes came out and burst from their sockets, you’re still not to see her!” You CAN’T SHOW that kind of thing as a Muslim in Australia…

Unless you’re honest.

In 1946, only a few years before writing the great classic 1984, George Orwell penned his manifesto, Why I write. Aside from the need to earn a living, he summarised his four basic motivations as follows:

1. sheer egoism – to be remembered after death, to prove himself to others
2. aesthetic enthusiasm – the joy of the art-form and his desire to share it
3. historical impulse – to record facts and store them for posterity
4. political purpose – in the widest possible sense…

Political purpose he defined as the desire to push the world in a certain direction – to alter peoples' idea of the kind of society they should strive after. While the different motivations drove him to varying degrees at different times, it was the fourth which he held to be the most important for writing.

The sentiments Orwell spoke of could equally apply to “why I make films”, or even more broadly, “why I create”.
Why DO we create films, when they take up so much time, effort and money?
Why DO we create any original work of art, when the daunting reality of the vast world-wide ocean of talent often makes our efforts feel like tiny droplets?

Why?
The reasons are much bigger than politics; more profound than a desire to change the world. Something spiritual, I believe, is going on. I’m sure Orwell would agree, as he concluded in his manifesto:

All writers are vain, lazy and selfish, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book (and making a film) is an awful struggle, like a long bout of some serious illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

Why do YOU create?

Here's an offering from 'Nick'. Thanks Nick: a little film about making films

Ingmar Bergman died on July 30. Film Historian Ronald Holloway described him as the most autobiographical of modern filmmakers and one of the great religious filmmakers of the 20th century (Beyond the Image, 1977). Certainly, as the son of a Lutheran minister, his struggles of faith were reflected deeply in his raft of films made during the 1950s and 60s.

Film buff David Erickson has uploaded 11 clips from Bergman's major films you can view here – thanks David.

While my knowledge of Bergman is limited, I’ve found it fascinating to discover the contemplative intensity he brought to the filmmaking process. He described the making of Winter Light as being like performing a solo part by Bach.
“It requires that kind of precision and presence the whole time,” he said in a filmed interview (see Erickson’s page).

Holloway wrote that Bergman sought a dialogue partner for all his important films – someone to toss around the weighty issues being explored, during the production process.

I’m familiar with a script editor during pre-production, but a dialogue partner during the shoot? There’s a role you rarely see in film credits! Not to be confused with a dialogue editor or workshops focussed on actors’ dialogue – this is dialogue for the sake of the director’s own headspace.

In our DIY filmmaking culture, this strikes me as a particularly useful idea, especially when it comes to making films on faith.

Ingmar Bergman will be remembered for his contribution to the art of making films of profound religious significance.