Friday, 27 July 2012
Thursday, 26 July 2012
Tuesday, 17 July 2012
Monday, 16 July 2012
Snowed Under
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| The 'dessert' in central SA |
After working late the night before and completing all my assignments by Friday mid-day I set off on a drive down to Cape Town to deliver a large piece of the set for our Kalk bay production of the play 'Sunday Morning.' The idea was to do the 15 hour journey in two stages and to arrive at the theatre on Saturday afternoon with plenty of time to instal the set piece, perform a technical rehearsal and then kick back and get ready for an opening night audience duly fuelled up with cocktail snacks and delicious Cape wines.
Forget about it.
I set off on the Saturday morning with a muttering of Afrikaans from my delightful host telling me that the snow was heavy in the night, but i should be all right if i stick to the motorway.
Not so.
Two hours later I took the above picture with a degree of childish excitement and a suppressed urge to get out of the car and hurl snowballs at the passing vehicles. I fought the urge because I had a deadline to stick to.
Insert the sound of the Weather Gods laughing here.
First I was turned away by a policeman informing me that the N1 was closed and might not be opened for a while, 'maybe today, maybe not today.'
I was advised to go into the small of Victoria West to try and find a place to sleep. I made some calls to family and friends and was advised to try the N!2 alternative route. This route was via Victoria West and so it seemed to be a good plan.
Insert the sniggering of the Fates here.
In Victoria West the road was closed to the N12 and there were not rooms to be had. I know this only because I made sixteen phone calls and 23 visits to local B@B's without success.
Desperate now I went into a local supermarket abd purchased a double blanket, a pair of gloves, a wooly hat, a bunch of goceries and a bottle of red wine so that I could at least raise a glass [or my coffee mug] to James and Jenine at the appointed hour when the performance would begin one stage set piece short later that evening.
But some strange piece of Grit Britain stirred in me and I thought to hell with this. I wasn't going to spend the night curled up in my car in this small town if I could spend the night curled up in my car out there in the frozen wasteland of the snowy desert in company with other desperadoes. And so I set off back to the N1.
Hold your breath here.
Because when I got back to the N1 the road was clear! Admittedly there was a police car with blue flashing lights on its roof with two cops inside shaking their heads at me and making negative 'don't go there' gestures with their hands as I turned right and headed south - but I felt confident and buoyant. The weather had shifted. If I put foot I might not be able to get the set piece onto stage but I could still make it for the opening!
Or not.
After a few kilometers I came to the back of a line of trucks and stopped for a while. All seemed hopeless. This seemed to be my resting place. But then after half an hour my impatience got the better of me and I experimented with automotive engineering. After turning the dial on my little Land Rover to the 'snow-grass-gravel' setting I pulled over onto the extreme hard shoulder and slowly buzzed my way along the virgin snow past five kilometers of stranded cars and trucks until I got to the point of Total Chaos.
Total Chaos is when a two lane highway is occupied by five trucks all trying to overtake each other and effectively creating a clogged up funnel of fury and frustration. An impassable situation. The snow is falling now in large flakes thrust horizontal across the disappearing landscape and soon my windscreen is a downy mass of frozen fluff. Once again I settle down. unfurl my blanket and lay my head on the pillow and doze off.
But then - an example is set by a motoring maverick.
I hear the angry roar of the engine before I look up and see a man in an Isuzu roaring past me in the opposite direction down a lane where the trucks have not completely filled the road. He sprays snow all about him and I am instantly inspired to follow him. If i move quick I can maybe make it all the way back to Colesberg where I spent last night and I can rest up and sleep in a bed for the night!
I do a u-turn and I follow those tracks all the way out past all of the cold and idling trucks and cars until I get to to the picture above. This is where `i stop and reconsider. It is only 3pm. Am I really going to drive 200k back up north so i can sleep on a mattress or am I going to keep trying to break this embargo - maybe go back into Victoria West and try and sneak around the poilice cordon and find a new way around the back of the town on a road heading south...
Yes, damn it. Good idea!
Back in the Victoria West the cops are still guarding the road to the N12 and I feel thirsty so I nip into the local pub on the corner and watch a little bit of rugby with a cup of tea. The Stormers are playing and I think 'how ironic'.
Before my tea arrives there is an excited snuffling and coughing from some of the truck drivers arranged around me and I look out of the window to see the cops taking up the barricade and opening the road. This is it! I leave a ten rand note on the table for the badly timed tea and make for my car.
Within minutes I am plowing my way along black ruts in a white road and overtaking slow cars on the snowy verge and I even start humming along with John Coltrane and even though I won't make it in time to see the show at least I might be able to get there for the after party.
And that's when the Gods throw their biggest dice and I run into this scene...
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| Jackknifed truck in the distance. |
Like everybody else my heart sinks and I get out and slump up to the front to see the impossible scene of the truck filling the road from one side to the other and I allow a dark despair to fall over me as the sun sinks slowly in the cold west.
But now I know that my Little Landy can do extraordinary things and so I snake and slide my way up past the last of the stranded cars and I get to the front of the queue in time to see a Big Landy - a Discovery - cruise up along behind me and pick an alternative route between the land-locked bits of cold steel and so I follow in its tracks and I make it around the jackknifed truck with centimeters to spare between my tyres and the steep slippery slope of the verge and I am off again - enjoying this delightful view...
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| The future in black and white |
For the first time in ten hours the outside temperature begins to rise above zero degrees and I make my way south into the acceptable gloom of a cold and wet winter's night. I arrive seven hours later, not in time for the set, the show, or the after party, but in time to spend the night in a warm bed with a hot wife.
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Critical Thinking
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| A lighting FX from the end of the play |
I like this Facebook message from the arts critic Christina Kennedy. Not just because it is insightful, intelligent, positive and supportive, but also because it gives me a fresh perspective on the work itself.
It all adds to what I learned in college about 'the authorial fallacy' - you think you've written one thing and every single co-collaborator - audience especially - will find their own interpretation, their own spin, their own way into the story you've created.
It's all about context.
Check it out...
Monday, 2 July 2012
Conference of the Creatives
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| Poster designed By Chantelle Louwrens |
Why I Go
When you make a living from conceiving and producing multimedia communications for corporates, it's important that you make sure you're staying up to date with the latest and greatest creative practitioners in the industry.
Unfortunately we don't have many opportunities to do this in South Africa, but we do have at least three - the Loeries, the Design Indaba, and the Grahamstown Festival.
The Grahamstown Festival might not seem like the most obvious choice at first glance, but as the nation's premier arts festival it attracts the best and brightest writers, directors, actors, musicians, comedians, performers and producers in the land.
Best of all - all of these people are staging their own work.
They are putting their own creative reputations on the line.
They are putting massive amounts of their own time, and their own money into their own productions.
They are subjecting themselves and their work to the judgement - not of a client with a fixed budget and a captive audience - but to the harshest of all critics - the fee paying public.
This is exactly how and why these are the people that are able to produce creative work of the highest quality and the utmost integrity in the corporate world. They know what it means to be mediocre, and to be good, and to be great in the real world. They know the difference because they have experienced them first hand, at their own expense.
As a creative director in a leading experiential agency like Mann Made Media, I am proud to count myself among this creative citizenry. I happy to put my own work - 'Sunday Morning' with fellow professionals, Jenine Collocott and James Cunningham, and 'The Handover' with the legendary Lionel Newton - on the open marketplace of public consumption. I am also ready to let the chips [and the chirps!] fall as they may.
For it is here, in the many different venues of the Grahamstown Festival, where you can enjoy the kind of networking, indulge in the kinds of conversations, and experience the kind of inspirations that we dream of designing for our clients and their audiences in our corporate work.
For me and my tribe then, the Grahamstown Festival is more than a wonderful opportunity to enjoy what some would call a 'creative holiday' - it is what my friend and creative collaborator James Cunningham calls 'our conference'.
This is why I am taking my own work to the Festival, and that is why my company is sending me to add my voice and lend my ear to that extended inspirational conversation over the next few days - because it's my job to do my personal best, and my it's my pleasure to learn from the professional rest.
I'll keep you posted.
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