Update: I am now filming a documentary-style short film with the “Caretaker” as the main voice/narrator. Featuring his daily life in the Old Magistrates Court, what does his job entail? What is the place to him? And what is he to the place? How does one represent the unrepresentable “emotion”?

It was a cold, Autumn afternoon when the sun peeked here and there and I had my sleeves rolled a quarter of the way up. I was warm enough, sure, but it was definitely a lot warmer entering the Old Magistrates’ Court with nothing but a bag that makes a tremendous noise whenever I take a step, and a homemade camera – for the authenticity, of course – to capture some moving images with the flair of an old man caretaker.

What I need to avoid when filming 1800-esque style:

• Humming generators. In a carpeted, semi-insulated place, it makes a violent modern disruption.
• Plaque signs: Toilets, Exit signs, wayfinding, room numbers
• People…in suits, mobile phones, clicking heels, security on patrol (sweat drop here), business talks
• Furniture: three to four brightly-coloured chairs, politics and business magazines
• Fluorescent lights
• Car noises; lots of beeping and revving, and in the midst of such quietness, the obnoxious sounds of a green walking light

I figured though, that I would drown out the sounds with the narration and perhaps some music too. But those physical visuals are a real pain. A real, real pain. I tried to film more carefully the second time around, but the modernity still surprises you after a turn. The kitchen is dastardly commercial. I framed the only old-ish cupboard on site and that makes for only 0.5 of a second.

Hm. More revision, for sure.