A man with an orange hat

Those who know me will also likely know a vivacious orange hat. I wasn’t trying to make it a thing. But it also accidentally became a thing.

And the other day, an encounter with an artefact of film history reminded me of the origin of the hat, and actually presented a eureka for me on the next steps of my feature film adventure. A huge realisation has been sitting on my head for many years, and I have just appreciated it.

For a while I have felt drawn to drawing this film as it were, I have a lot of interest in artists who ‘sketch’ their films, from David Lynch’s storyboards to Akira Kurasawa’s paintings, there is something so beautiful in not just storyboarding for function, but drawing to discover the world you are creating in the film.

Above: David Lynch's hand drawn map for Twin Peaks

Above: Akira Kurasawa's painting for Dreams

My feature film includes mythical creatures and magical worlds, and I feel a big compulsion to draw it. But I knew the tool I needed, and I didn’t have it - Procreate. I don't have an iPad, and currently I cannot justify the purchase of one. So I was stuck. This perceived necessary tool was ‘pivotal’ for progress. Yet I had spent a large part of my youth drawing. I loved it. The pencil and paper are what led (forgive the pun) to me becoming an artist. They were how I literally will have spent years of my childhood. Funnily enough, as I look back I appreciate I was always trying to draw movement - Cinematic storyboards.

And yet this digital methodology of drawing was what I was pulled to even though I have never done it and I am not experienced in it, but for years now I have been interested in it. But recently I started the journey of convincing myself to return to more traditional methodologies. I have some nice pens and a collection of great coloured pencils and pastels bought specially for the film. But it was not happening. I just was not drawing.

The universe decided it needed to get involved.

An instagram post broke through in a sea of procrastination. It was about Hayao Miyazaki - known for Studio Ghibli. He is one of the greatest storytellers and my biggest filmmaker influence for this film:

“Drawing is a battle - the paper resists. The pencil resists. Your hand trembles.

And in that fight, something honest is born.

Digital animation can be beautiful, but it's too clean.

It lacks breath. It lacks the tremor of a human hand

I don't want smoothness.

I want the mark of a human being who was there...who felt something.”

- Hayao Miyazaki

I speak of authenticity so much. So much. And yet I sometimes fear it in my personal creatibe work. Because imposter syndrome scrutinises my authenticity, and the deeper I get to myself, the more vulnerable, and the more I question the ‘value’ of that to others.

That little boy with the pencil was unstoppable. A world of dreams, no concept of audience, other than an invitation to Mum and Dad if I really nailed it. Drawing was to live in those moments, one with the process.

I read this message from Miyazaki and saved it. It intrigued me. But I needed one more step;

A few days later found myself at the Design Museum in London. An incredible cultural organisation and one I have a deep respect for. And this time I entered the  building through a staff entrance. I was there to make a film there, on behalf of the truly incredible Pinc College.

Above: I always love a lanyard on adventures

There is much to say on this and I will talk about how amazing Pinc are in a dedicated post, because that work is incredible and leading to powerful things in arts and education. That post will come. For now I will stay on this story; The day I was filming with Pinc and their students just so happened to be the day the Design Museum were hosting a dedicated press event for their new show about the iconic filmmaker Wes Anderson.

Above: The entrance to the Wes Anderson The Archives Show at the Design Museum

Long story short, myself and the Pinc students were invited to film within the press launch, and we were immersed in this incredible show around the artefacts of Wes’ ouvre. From sketches, to notebooks, to props to miniatures, to models, to costumes, to puppets, to paintings, to signs, to artworks. Wes does not just create films, he builds worlds.

Above: The infamous Grand Budapest Hotel within the exhibition at the Design Museum

I once read that filmmakers are either archeologists or architects in how they make a films. You discover the story, or you build it. The majority of my work so far has been archeological in process, uncovering stories with great care and constructing an authentic view of them from the discoveries. But this film of mine requires architecture, I am world building. And seeing Wes’ depth of world building was powerful. And I remembered my love for his working practice and the more I discovered of his work through the exhibition the more I realised how much we share influences, including Satyajit Ray, François Truffaut, and most importantly, which I knew from my own understanding, though I'm not sure even the exhibition particularly highlighted, the deep influence of Karel Zeman,  a truly phenomenal master craftsman of filmic storytelling.

Above: The visuals and behind the scenes of Karel Zeman's films

I have been pushing myself recently to explore my passion for the magic of early cinema, including the worlds of the first pioneers, such as Georges Méliès, and indeed I directed my own adaptation of A Trip to the Moon with the CAPA College students, in a film called ‘Return to the Moon’, exploring the old methodologies of film.

Above: Film still from 'Return to the Moon'

So seeing the depth and detail Wes would go to in his films I realised that I can world build. I am a sculptor and most importantly a child artist who has grown into an adult artist. This film that I am making is about creating a film that uses the same mechanics of how children would tell stories, but with an adult finesse. And so a mixed media approach is essential. And I need to make my film meticulously and joyously. Because I am making a film for children and families to love, through magic and cinema, and that includes making my child self proud.

As I walked the Wes Anderson exhibition it became clear. This was the inspiration I needed. The permission and eureka that I can build this film as the artist I am, pushing new skills and creations.

And as I was about to leave the exhibition, something caught me eyes. A series of red hats. The infamous red hats from The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. And I remembered. That I had already started an interest in vivacious high vis orange hats, and then I saw the crew of Life Aquatic and and I loved the style and that film so much.

So when I saw a collection of reduced hi vis orange beanies I couldn’t resist, and I bought them all. I think 7. And at the time Bokehgo was growing. And I imagined gifting all my crew these hats and of course they would want to wear them. What a squad. There was also a lime green one which I got in case. When I broached the idea with my first ever colleague, she said ‘Absolutely not’ about the orange. But did take the lime green one.

Since then I have had many great people work with me within Bokehgo. However, it never felt like they would be up for the orange hats. So I ended up with them all. And ironically or poetically I still wear many hats in Bokehgo. And this orange hat has become infamous. A hat so bright it can throw the white balance off on footage if a light hits it.

And now, I will remember that with this hat I drive my own path, but it is a path paved with inspiration from many sources. One being Wes from before, but also now with a new appreciation for his work, and unlocking a new methodology that is in fact very authentic within me in so many ways. I am going to build my film in so many layers.

And the other day, I finally did it. I picked up the pencils, and a blank book. Items bought across time, finally ready. I started to draw the film. And it is becoming alive. These are not storyboards, but scenes, details, characters, creatures, feelings, atmospheres environment, buildings, props. And as I draw, I am letting the pen lead from stimulation of my mind, and it has unlocked new concepts and deep ideas and new ideas I simply would have never written. It is so explorative.

The tension Miyazaki speaks about is an energy coursing between me and the paper with the pencil as the conduit. The lines of the drawing are mapping pathways to uncover my film, a multi dimensional cartography, mapping a landscape between past, present and future, around conscious and subconscious, dreams and reality, the known and unknown. This world I create is connected to my reality with so many threads. These worlds share breath, and the more I explore, the more the worlds breathe life into each other. I am building my film's world, and it is building me too.

And so yes. My hat is a reminder that origins are ever layering, inspiration are waves that keep flowing, and that authentic creation is born from present, mindful and patient living.

The film has taken a huge step. And it takes shape in a pencil, some paper and an orange hat.