Currently, most of my work as a cinematographer has been on zero budget indie projects with severely limited crew, minimal equipment and heavily compressed shooting schedules. Time and time again I’ve waded into these projects knowing full well the pressure to deliver quality images within an environment which can be described as the trash compactor scene from “Star Wars”. Even within the context of those projects where the stakes are “lower”, little to no pay ventures done more for love or experience, the pressure is still there – mainly from myself more then anyone else.
As I’ve been thinking more about these creativity under the gun experiences I find myself coming back to a concept which I have come to name “The Void”. For me it’s a span of time that happens right at the very beginning of a project in which I am tasked with creating something. In my case it started in my work as a visual designer, however I quickly noticed that the same feelings while working as a cinematographer as well.
At its core, the concept is little more then my own spin on the well worn trope of a writer staring into the endless white of a blank page – the ultimate representation of writers’ block. I like to think that my metaphor is more accurate in describing my own head space that occurs when beginning a visuals based creative project. The Void can be a terrifying place for a creative, a sprawling expanse of bottomless nothing that quickly engulfs all functional thought. In The Void there are no ideas or there are infinite ideas, a perverse all or nothing game that seems could last forever. Worst of all, more often then not you face it alone, drifting aimlessly through that neither-space of un-productivity.
My forays into “The Void” started ever since beginning my career as a creative quite a few years ago. Whether it was designing a logo, writing a script, or framing a shot, I dreaded that feeling – the tightening in the gut that signaled those first steps into that nothingness. While designing I quickly found that wild sketching, or semi-random pixel pushing seemed to help. Pulling the ideas from the aether by hook or crook using a machine gun fire approach not only seemed to work, but also made The Void less scary.
As I started to pursue cinematography more seriously I found that while The Void was still there, it was easier to control. This is probably most due to the fact that when it comes to properly lighting and framing a scene more pre-planning and less spontaneity (arguably) is required. I also realized that the physical nature of being on a film set helped my creative process. If I was struggling with a concept I could get up and move the camera, adjust a light, or just survey the space once more The very dynamic act of doing these things helped to combat the encroaching Void in a way that felt much different then the design projects that usually had me stuck at a computer. In realizing this I found myself doing everything I could to get out of The Void as fast as I could – especially when working behind a camera.
Though all of this I’ve come to understand that my concept of The Void is difficult to put into words, yet important to my own creative process. To me the discomfort of being stuck in that place of anti-inspiration should be viewed as a normal way point along the creative path. However, up until recently I had been viewing it as an obstruction, something to fight against with a lot of unfocused action. Of late I’ve become interested in the idea of allowing myself to submit to this mental state, to actually exist within that boundless ocean of quiet. Much of the time my process has yielded some good ideas, but I can’t help but wonder how many truly great ideas were lost merely because I didn’t spend enough time in that quiet place, because I merely settled for the first answer for the sake of completing a task. Really it’s just a change of perspective, a flipping of the script on a long held belief.
That said, this whole thing might be easier said then done – only time will tell.
Scenes From An Imaginary Film 