Considering the current circumstances that have prevented contact, I was lucky enough to get the chance to work in a great team for the production of Outside the Box. Initially, I thought it’d be easier to work solo during lockdown, however, working in a team has not only lightened the work-load but also made the experience all the more enjoyable as I got to share it with other people.
At times, I would consider myself a good collaborator as I enjoy meeting new people and building friendships. I often find that when a group of like-minded people are able to get to know one another, and strike a balance between work and socialising, they tend to enjoy the process and trust their teammates, resulting in great work. I enjoyed initiating this dynamic as I feel as though it is as beneficial to others as it is to me.
Another strength I have when working collaboratively is effective communication. Even when tasks were delegated, I ensured the team was updated on my progress, such as shooting footage, complications faced during filming, changes made to the edit, etc… Jes and Brooke also kept the team in the loop of any progress made on their behalf. These debriefings were really important since we were unable to work together physically, enabling us to keep each other involved in the decision-making process, as well as maintaining consistency in all areas of production.
An aspect of collaboration that I struggle with most, particularly during this project, is delegation. At times I prefer to do the task myself, rather than explaining my ideas to others, which I am aware is not a good habit to foster. Because Outside the Box was initially my idea to film, I think it was assumed that I would take on some form of leadership, since I had more background knowledge of the story. This was a challenge as I felt uncomfortable asking others to help me with certain tasks. It was frustrating and somewhat awkward not being able to involve the team in the filming process and therefore I avoided asking them to help me with menial tasks, like organising release forms and other documentation. For future productions, I will need to be more intentional when seeking help, and ensure that I am direct with instructions instead of waiting for others in the team to magically take on the role.
For the viewing activity, our group decided to watch the short documentary, Last Address (Ira Sachs, 2010). The observational style of this film allows the imagery to do all the talking. It is not carried by interviews or music but speaks volumes through the soft, diegetic sound and mostly static shots of the buildings that once housed artists who have died of AIDS.
The film essentially depicts a collection of buildings in New York City, accompanied by the text of the past resident’s name and address. The takes are long and patient and include action happening around the building, such as an individual people watching, passers-by, traffic and so-on. We can hear the sound of this action but it is relatively quiet considering the typically loud, busy sounds of NYC. This muted background noise directs focus to the towering buildings. This quiet audio combined with the long takes draws attention to the stillness that comes after death and the mystery that develops as we observe the exterior of these artists homes.
After watching this work, I learnt just how powerful patience can be. I tend to feel the need to inject a ton of emotion in my work through music, interview audio and a dense compilation of b-roll, but I’m starting to realise that can take away from the actual message. In Sachs’ work, I initially didn’t feel much when I was first met with an image of an ordinary building, but as it lingered on the screen I began to wonder what stories lie beyond the exterior. The people passing by and the sound of distant traffic was a reminder that life goes on after death which made it even sadder to think of the faceless artists whose lives were cut short.
I will definitely consider this restrained approach for our A4 documentary as I think it may work for our Food Bank subject. Rather than traditionally introducing the space with dialogue, we could use diegetic sound and long takes of the uniform shelves and masked volunteers to give the viewer a chance to wonder what is going on. We could also use text to provide additional context and perhaps wait until the end of the film to describe what they have just seen (as Sachs does in his). Overall, I think the patient editing and minimal approach in Last Residence is something I’d love to explore in our final product.
The montage I created was shot in my living room which has now been converted into my mum’s study. She prepares her art classes from home in her uniform of nightgowns and fluffy socks. Mum always has the news on in the background, from start to finish, convinced she’s absorbing the breaking news as she works. I’ve included this background audio as it not only illustrates the tense environment my mum works in, but also provides context for the sequence as we hear Dan Andrews thank Victorians for working at home.
I started with the establishing shots of the lounge room, sprawling papers, and mum’s clothing in order to convey that we are alone in a house, as well as demonstrating what she is working on later on in the montage. I didn’t cut straight to mum as I wanted to create some intrigue and set the scene, but later interspersed the shots of her working with those of her surroundings, such as the chocolate and wine, in order to contrast her focused expression with her recreational items (although it’s worth noting she was not drinking at 11 AM).
My intention was to capture my mum’s new and somewhat sombre work environment through long takes and close-ups with little movement to create an unsettling feeling as ‘normal’ life for many is suspended. The extreme close-ups of the TV were included to not only show the source of the background dialogue but to emphasise the impersonal relationships we now rely on.
I wish I had something profound to say about these letterboxes but, even after pondering for a few days, nothing comes to mind. I’ve been walking past them for as long as I can remember, blending into their suburban environment just like their neighbouring, splintered picket fences and botched lilly pilly hedges. Some letterboxes show signs of age. Weathered and neglected. Void of mail. Some overflow with contents. Perhaps it’s because they keep forgetting to assign a ‘no junk mail’ sign like I do.
It’s odd that we live such private lives yet we still permit our most personal information to be stashed in tin boxes on the side of the road. Perhaps it’s because they’ve become no more than a furnishing, replaced by invisible letterboxes on our phones.
There’s nothing exceptionally special about this letterbox and the yard it is situated in. It sits between decorative period homes with blooming magnolias and quaint birdbaths, but its humble appearance is both comforting and unsettling. The letterbox stands tall in a strikingly white, manicured front yard with pops of turquoise that gives the Australian weatherboard home a touch of life. The dated Camry contrasts the tidy garden but complements the surrounding white features. As I look at the window tucked behind the empty letterbox, I can’t help but wonder why its blinds were closed on such a sunny day.
An empty coffee cup. A finance book from 1989. With a bookmark on page 32. Now fiction.
Dad isn’t home but I photograph his office anyway. He likes to call it his office but, really, it’s just a garage. A gym. A storeroom for things we don’t want but can’t throw away. Costumes from book week in 2007. A box of VHS tapes. Mostly Hi-Five.
When he is home, dad runs an IT support business for people who can’t be bothered installing antivirus software. He does other stuff but I wouldn’t know. He’s worked alone in his office, garage, storeroom, for over 20 years.
Dad’s been fighting time. He refuses to accept that Apple trumps Windows. Time trumps vitamins. Deep down he knows the business isn’t working. So he continues working on other things to distract him from his business that isn’t working. He took a splintered skateboard that someone had once used but later realised was only a way to numb their approach to 60. Now it’s his turn.
Dad likes to be healthy. He takes curcumin tablets and eats half-cooked broccoli every day. I think we all look for ways to control our uncontrollable lives. This is his. He feels good when he fights his signs of ageing. The signs only he sees. And distracts himself with stories of success. Maybe they’ll take him back to his prime. Where money could be made and joints are still young. But I think he is still happy. Content with this kind of living.
The prompt for our Climate Changing studio is ‘how might climate change communications be both political and poetic’ and looking at Seamus’ final media work, I can clearly see that he has explored this idea. He was able to communicate the hidden connections of our everyday actions to CO2 emissions in a deeply personal and moving way by utilising found family footage. Situating these pieces of footage in a nostalgic way, paired with upbeat classical music, Seamus then re-contextualizes them by suddenly rewinding and explaining the environmental effects of these actions, such as driving a car, through a jarring automated voice. This changes the meaning of these sentimental memories and forces us to question our deeply ingrained traditions.
‘Our Fashion Will Outlive Us’
Cristina also challenges these deeply engrained attitudes in regards to the West’s insatiable desire for fast-fashion. She contrasts the glamorised imagery in fashion advertisements and social media content with the confronting footage of the industry’s ethical and environmental consequences such as water pollution, the draining of natural resources, and poor working conditions, which exposes us to the reality of our consumer privileges. By illustrating our expectations vs the reality of the fast-fashion industry, Cristina addresses a concept we’ve covered in the studio which is the need for society to understand their connection to and, as outline by Nurmis, ‘responsibility for the problem of climate change’ (2016:503).
Green Media
Looking at Charmaine, Darcy, Emilienne and Jude’s ‘Food for Thought’ project for the Green Media studio, I am so glad to see a sense of hope being fostered in the midst of the climate crisis. This group has created four videos are to be posted on a Facebook page for members to share sustainable ways in which to consume food. I really appreciate the idea of giving people practical guidance in tackling the devastating consequences of food production whilst also creating a community of like-minded people. I am, however, concerned that the imagery often contradicts the message of the project, encouraging viewers to cook with meat despite it being stated in the voiceover that animal agriculture is a major contributor to climate change. That said, I do applaud this group for responding to the need for hope and unity by encouraging people to make achievable changes, as a collective, through the food they chose to eat.
My Media
Audience
In my final media work, I hope that I was able to engage my audience through the familiar footage of eating and juxtapose that with the unnerving images of mass production, cruelty and environmental destruction that is caused by these mundane and often sentimental acts of consuming. Nurmis poses the question; ‘how can we convert into image and narrative the disasters that are slow-moving and long in the making?’ (2016:502). To respond to this, I used fast-paced editing and a mosaic split-screen to compile the various aspects of environmental damage caused by food production and consumption. This overwhelming composition, paired with a gradually building soundscape of intensifying, repetitive sounds will hopefully keep the audience engaged.
Message
A key concern of the studio was; how do we make people care about climate change? Nurmis claims that we are currently experiencing a crisis where ‘the information doesn’t shift behaviour’ (2016:502) which is arguable because people do not see how climate change directly affects them, and more importantly, how they directly affect the crisis. To respond to this, I have attempted to address our studio prompt and create a media artefact that is both political in its message and poetic in its emotive and personal portrayal. The idea I aimed to communicate was that our consumer habits for excessive quantities of specific foods is not always necessary and, in most cases, causes much more harm to the environment than we think. My hope is that by seeing familiar images of eating and food production contrasted against disturbing footage of destruction and suffering will encourage the viewer to question their relationship with food and realise that their choices and habits are directly contributing to environmental destruction.
Improvements
If I were to keep working on my video, I would like to extend it (as an additional, longer version) and address other aspects of food consumption that have a social/cultural impact. In my video, I have focused on the environmental consequences of this industry, but think it would be beneficial to also illustrate the ways in which cultures and developing nations have been impacted by the ruthlessness of Western food habits.
I also think that including human voice would elevate and further communicate the message of my film. In my own time, I extended my video and repeated the first piece of family footage at the end, this time, with sound. Not only does this serve as a bookend, but the inclusion of the video’s commentary brings it back to me; a reminder that this is something I too am responsible for and must question. The full film is linked below.
