I have a bit of a personal achievement to announce. I have been strictly vegetarian for over year now. I’m not about to get preachy, but from a heavy meat eater to not contributing to the death of anything, I’m pretty proud.
A big shout out to my vegetarian and vegan friends and an even bigger shout out to my meat eating friends who have tried to make my life hell over the past twelve months. I stuck at it and never folded and I’ve decided to keep at it. Yew!
It’s been a year since I almost died. I’m still here.
Why I do what I do...
I regularly get asked the questions such as ‘What kind of things do you film?’ or ‘What are your films about?’ and upon answering, I always struggle to correctly articulate myself. I think it’s because I don’t have a simple answer to any of these questions. I really wish the answer was simple sometimes, but the truth is, every film I create feels different to me. I still feel like I need to fill this neglected void though, so here is my attempt at it.
When I first began filming, I used to look for really interesting people to interview and collaborate with. People that I thought would have an interesting story to tell. But over time I realised that absolutely everybody is interesting, it’s just for the most part we are taught to close up and not let the gems out.
The mystery within each person is what drives me. We all reside in a world full of masks, masks that we have been taught to wear, masks that are built to fit any particular situation. If you choose not to wear these masks, you cannot function in society. These fabricated masks come equipped with rules that lead to a sense of conformity and a deep seeded need for acceptance. This way of living/thinking has always concerned me, because the idea of wearing a ‘social’ mask combats the notion of revealing the beautiful truth about somebody.
And it's that truth that I am always looking for, it interests me, mainly because it is so very rare (and special). On the outset, most people are cool with living their seemingly comfortable little facades, but deep down in the depths of self, people are dying to share their inner secrets with someone that is willing to listen. Unfortunately the few that are willing to listen come equipped with judgemental agendas and it is the judging that everyone is afraid of. I find it humorous to think that people are judged, simply for being themselves, but are excused if they follow a pseudo existence.
I like witnessing the journey towards someone’s inner beauty and I feel that's what my films do. They provide a platform to allow people their own permission to divulge what they would never reveal to their closest companion. I don’t have any preconceived agendas and I never have any idea what will be spoken about before the initial filming takes place, I just know that my films are 100% honest.
The people I collaborate with are all extremely courageous human beings. They break the mould and stare their lifelong fears in the face. It’s scary process, but they all manage to do it. Whenever I complete a film, I always feel proud to know that there are people that are not afraid, even if everything tells them to keep their truths concealed.
Many people have asked how get people to be so candid in each of my interviews/films, and the answer is simple, I just set the scene, ask a question, I then shut up and listen… you should try it.
I urge you to watch my films, not because I’m seeking extra likes or views, those kind of things don’t really drive me. I just want you to really listen to each persons story and think about how important it was for them to tell it.
Mental Sk(illness)
A little while back I found myself spending most of my time writing about and trying to understand this thing they called ‘mental illness’. I would write about my own perspective and perception of others’ experiences. It has always interested me, as this ‘title’ is something that I have to live with and wear each day of my life. Both my parents have been diagnosed with depression, it dates back to my grandparents, even my great grandma willingly crossed over at her own hands. Many of the conversations with my family all illustrate a legacy of sadness that has been passed down through our immediate generations (at least all that I know of). As the chain continues, I’m deeply intrigued to explore my own path in a different way.
It has taken me a long time to learn to drop name stamps like ‘mental illness’, ‘depression’, ‘anxiety’ and all the titles we seem to have to crowd under. We earn these titles from being ‘different’, ‘weird’, ‘crazy’ as the titles keep rolling in, our society is busy being segregated from some of the smartest, loving, inspiring and spiritual people in existence.
The basic truth is… we have built a society based on rules that promote the ideals of sameness. Go to school, get a suitable job, be seen to work hard, make the ‘right’ friends, find a partner that everyone likes (and marry them), have ‘normal’ children, talk about things your peers are comfortable with, dress appropriately, speak appropriately, make money, look beautiful and most importantly be happy! I mean, holy shit, did we set ourselves up to fail or what?
What if our schooling system wasn’t equipped to teach you and tried to condition you into the person you weren’t meant to be? What if you worked for a series of employers (because, you never want to be seen out of work!) that cared so much about themselves and so little about you, but they expect you to bring your A-Game everyday? What if your friends were also lost in the same passages as you? What if you fell in love with more than one of them, because you have a deep understanding of eachother? What if you didn’t marry and had a transgender child to a person that wasn’t your partner? And what if you loved to tell everyone about how proud you are of your child? What if your child dressed they wanted to and you did they same, just because… why should you care? What if you swore all the time, but your messages were pure? What if you didn’t value money? What if you are overweight and wore hurt everyday? Would you be happy? I mean… why not? It’s scary, but unfortunately you all know the ‘right’ answer.
We are taught that we must be ‘happy’, but happiness comes with rules. We are taught that we should only be happy if people agree with our happiness. We are constantly judged, from the moment we step foot outside our front doors, or release any feeling or emotion into a public forum. People have their opinions and they wont let go of them, until you tap into something that connects with them (and most of the time that never happens). If you don’t tap in with that communal connection, you are an outcast and are subject to parade your ‘titles’ as given.
We are also taught that a joyful emotion is the only good one and if we are on the other end of the spectrum, we need professional help. If I’m not happy why can’t I explore the beauty in that? Why is that so wrong? What if you are conditioned to think differently, what is the harm in that? Why is that so dangerous? Isn’t the idea of looking at life from all angles a true education and enlightenment? What if that darkness that we are conditioned to fear, held the truth to ourselves?
In my darkest times, I feel like I’m standing in a long corridor filled with doors that I have been conditioned to keep locked and the door at the end, is the only one I’m allowed to walk through. But what if I imagined what was behind each door first? And what if that imagination was my reality? Then maybe those locks were not there in the first place.
Acceptance and interest in everything is the key to our short existence. Experience as much as you can while you are here.
Drug Addiction
I’ve had a few minor drug issues in my life, all of which I have had garnered the strength to overcome. I was lucky to see a way of resilience after finding myself in a place where I wanted to separate myself from the world. It’s a fine line between facing reality and the easy fall into oblivion. I think that most people do not seek to envision how fine this line really is. I have seen close friends and family, fall into the strangle hold of drug addiction. I watched people die in both a metaphysical and literal sense. My experience has taught me, that drugs are not the problem, it is the constant pressures of conforming to a life of structure and rules. The structure and ruling is not just the laws that govern us, but it is also rules of society, the harshest rulings of all. Some people are OK to live under regulation, but others find it damn near impossible. The truth is we are all built differently, but we live in a world that expects us to all be the same.
I believe that our psychology is built from individual experience, experiences that change our beings daily. Think about the experiences you have had today and all the ways that they could reflect on your subconscious thinking, multiply that by the 365 days of the year, then multiply by the years you have been in existence. This is why I would never compare myself to the next person. I simply, have not walked a day (or lifetime) in their shoes. Many of us find it easy to accept the idea of conforming, but many of us do not. If you feel that you are trapped in a world that does not adapt to your conditioning and you have tried countless times to adapt, then the only logical thing is to escape, especially for a tortured soul. I know that there are alternative modes of escapism, but not all of us are privy to this information.
I have seen way too many people struggle for too long and it is sad to see them fall into desperation. But rather than look down on the tortured, I would rather be compassionate and understanding, that their days on this earth are hard and testing. People say drugs are the easy way out, I think many people see hard days leading into addiction and even harder days making their way out.
Next time you see another human in pain, understand that their experience can never be directly accompanied by thoughts of your own, but their pain is a direct reflection of the world we live in. A little unconditional compassion goes a long way.
Our blood
He used to say 'somewhere here you are apart of me',Although their existence was grim, their devotion was plenty, He laid kisses on her soul, The kind of kisses that make sorrow hearts turn, Hands were drawn as he struck the street, As the world chose to forget, he was her Harlem King, The soldiers solute... While her tears dropped in his honour, And suddenly she was not magnificent, The foreign eyes reminded her that she couldn't feel anymore, Her acquaintances abandoned, but the crystals held her spirit, As she kissed the clouds, he never came, Anxious pictures, kept rolling around like doggerels in her mind, So she pleased the boys and told them that love didn't matter anymore, If they didn't care, then no-one needed to, Her veins split and soaked the blade, Before her eyes shut for the final glimpse of eternity she murmured... 'I wish no-one farewell, I'm coming to see you my brother'
No masks
It has been a really tough time for many of my close ones lately. I’m spending the majority of my time and energy, counselling friends that are seeing some really tough times. Many are struggling with varied life situations, I don’t know if it’s just a weird energy of the moment or just down to sheer chance. Eitherway, it’s been a really therapeutic process for all involved. I don’t really want to air out any personal battles that are not my own and my intention isn’t to write a few motivational words to get you through your day, I know that shit can feel a little condescending. But I’d like to pass on a message that has helped me understand both myself and those around me. Here is goes.
Take the time to learn, educate yourself through darkness and light, they are both one in the same. Know that each of these are important in the journey of self/universal discovery and one without the other perishes the understanding of both sides of the fence. Our pain is not honoured; it is shamed and therefore is hidden within the confines of our social masks and through this, we forget who we are and why all our experiences here share equal importance. We forget to simply exist, before trying to strive for something better and often that something leads us down a path of insecurity, band aid materialism or both. Be gentle and understand that mistakes and achievements have a united standing in the shaping of our character. Perfection only exists in opinion and with a free mind; you are free of internal and external judgements.
I’m not a picture of flawlessness and neither are you. In fact most of what I just wrote, I struggle with on a daily basis, but I know that my life is worth more than my constant afflictions or a couple of pats on the back. Walk the earth with open eyes, but don’t forget to close them sometimes.
Mundi Mundi
I thought I’d break up some of my writing with a bit an experience I had a few weeks ago. I travelled out to the Mundi Mundi desert for a filming trip with my new friends from @peace and an old friend Vinny Tang. I had never been out to the desert before and to be honest I didn’t know what to expect. Before any film trip I try to envision exactly what I endeavour to capture, but 100% of the time it never pans out that way. I always end up getting lost in the art and somehow make it out at the other end. The Mundi Mundi was something else though. The Mundi Mundi is the closest ‘real’ desert to Melbourne and is where they filmed Mad Max II many years ago. There is something about a connection with vast nothingness that frees your mind and almost enables a pin point focus on the finer details. It was honestly one of the best trips I’ve ever been on. I was lucky enough to travel with three very open minded individuals which really enhanced the experience.
I can really appreciate why people thrive living a simple life, surrounded by such an abundance of beauty. If you are a city or suburban dweller, I would highly recommend going out there. I can guarantee that it will put you at peace with things, even if it’s momentary.
A soldiers tale
My comrades in the late hours have no balance,Blood spills with no sense of affliction, Our eyes and ears crushed our sense of purity, Senseless violence caused by anxious hearts, The long hushed walk home made hours seem like years, Our fatigued feet cure the cataract of rejection, We rest strung out on comparable thoughts, With no reciprocity in our kindred spirit, We are trained to stand firm, never let them know you are rotting within, Exposed tears in your demeanour, means you are a bitch, We awake to a new level of bogus sensibility, The same wasted mental production line, It grants us equal admission to roam these comfortless streets, The ignorance keeps us breathing, Our bodies reconcile again, But our thoughts are exiled from the tangible touch, We all stand bold in our delusion of reality, What happened over the past few years falls in remote mindlessness, We succumb to the snakes that feed on our once authentic hearts, Casual chatter idles by like nothingness, Our eyes collide, Our hearts wail for help, Our vision drifts to the cluttered floor, The flood of displeasure detaches from this familiar encounter, We discard who we really are and return to the contentment of continuity, "Pass the weed cuz"
My brothers
Most of my close friends are aware that I don’t associate with the majority of my immediate family; sometimes you have to shake the bad influences in your life even if they are blood bound. This doesn’t mean that I have lived a life without family; it simply means that I’ve had to learn family values in another way… through finding my brothers. I picked up most of my family on the street, a little game where you weed out the good ones through acts of absolute loyalty. This was a very hard task, considering my environment was a breeding ground for snakes. But I think that when you are constantly placed in an abundance of volatile situations, acts of loyalty and character identification shine through like a light in a pit of darkness. This is how I found my lifelong brothers.
My brothers have experienced the inside of prison walls, drug addiction, homelessness, incomprehensible violence, a plethora of death and through all of this, we have all stood by eachother. I guess I didn’t find them through traditional methods, but I feel the bonds built in precarious situations are stronger than a simple likeminded personality connection.
As we all walked similar paths, we were able build an armoured love for eachother. In my moments of angst, they’d drop everything to be there for me, when the world was against me, they’d stand proudly by my side, when it seemed that life wasn’t worth living, they always remind me that we didn’t go through all this hardship for nothing.
Friendship is about good times, honesty and a sense of comradery, but my brand of family is an indescribable bond that is only communicated through energy and gesture. It is the type of thing that builds a modern type of wisdom that is strictly for the moment and stands still in time.
I am proud to say that we all passed the challenges thrown at us, but still bare the scars of the past. I know that our experiences have awarded us a deep understanding for both sides of the fence and all of us are passionate about passing our wisdom on to our next generations.
I’m blessed that through life experience, I earnt the opportunity to have some of the best people around me. My brothers need not be named, they know who they are. I want to thank all of them for making me the man I am today.
The corner
I sat there and rigorously observed,'Watching' has been my thing since I was conceived, Standing at one of two adjacent milk bars at Ringwood Station, My side was where the biggest gang in the area inhabits, And the other the cocktail of addicts occupied, The area heroin epidemic was the altimeter cinematic experience, Everyday was a treasure to both my interest and inhibition, Some of these addicts were my comrades and others were just actors in my screenplay, Addicts are always checking in or checking out, Never at one with complacency, The brisk disjointed walks accompanied by the look of anxiety and desperation, The wisk sound of brand new sports track suits, meant they were fresh out of the joint, A small glimpse of dignity to clothe the demons within, Couples, lovers, friends they all belonged to the club, Their glazed watery eyes shot darting looks as each one walked by, Our momentary connection is one of guilt and embarrassment, Although I'm not sure which of us embraced these feelings the most, Straight to the medicine man, The pawn in the game who hustles his addiction, A struggle with not clearing the price was always a must, Then they walk away to oblivion to inject the pain away, Hoping for 'the big one', I watched businessmen and blue collar workers walk by in disgust, They felt they served more worthy paths, 'If the pain is foreign then it is not really present,' I sit there and wait for change, "Yo bruz, you got 40cents for a phone call?" I pass the money, hoping its a call for help, "Why the fuck did you give cash to a junkie? Fuck him" My youth didn't award me the intelligence to explain, As my eyes, pen and paper held all the answers.
The lost ones
The lost ones are those who are lost in the circle of existence. As a kid, I would travel from social setting to social setting, but I never really fit in. It wasn’t due to people making me feel unwelcome, I always had plenty of friends, I just felt like I always drifted to the outside… all the time. As soon as someone wanted to establish some form of closeness, I would push them away immediately. This is the reason why I ended most of my more intimate relationships pretty abruptly. As a kid, I would much prefer playing alone and observing my surroundings. I guess I felt that I had more of a connection to ‘things’ rather than ‘people’. It was something that always felt permanent and could not be altered. It was really attractive in a lot of ways. It was a really hard way to live as a kid, I didn’t understand why I felt like this all the time. It lead me to spending more time by myself or with people that would let me go by unnoticed. The first social setting that accepted my disconnection was the gang environment. In the gang culture, you could be as disconnected as you wanted to be, no-one judged you. It was also an environment where I had access to the raw aspects of life, something that an unopinionated ‘observer’ such as myself thrived on.
It wasn’t really the fights/violence that I was interested in, that kind of stuff went by like clockwork. It was everything else, the small things, the little communication that spoke volumes, that is was got my blood pumping. I was never the kind of person to stop and watch a fight, it was kind of boring, my thrills lied in the interactions before and after. While other kids were off doing whatever teenagers do, I would sit at train stations and watch the drug trade. While my homies chilled and clowned around me, I would drift off and watch the other world dance in front of me. I would ponder on their stories and watch the life theatre unfold in front of my eyes.
Many of my friends fell victim to drugs and I always appreciated the escape, I knew how it felt to want to get away from a reality that never connected with me. I was lucky to have my creativity and it allowed me to look at things with my own brand of perspective… It was beautiful.
After each day on the street I would get home to the insanity of home life (read last weeks post) and venture into the front yard, pen and paper in hand. I would write about my inner feelings along with stories that stemmed from my surroundings. This is where my passion for writing and filming came from… I just never picked up a camera until many years later.
Next week I’ll be releasing a short story related to my observations of my local drug trade.
Mr W
Every night I arrive to my birthplace and all is orderly,Everyone is cheerful, whimsical and present, After a callous days work, an ouzo and coke would go down a treat, He sits in his throne with the wreak of arrogance on his breath, She waits idly to remind him of his worthlessness, But not yet, We have plenty to discuss, We must to wait for that familiar red button to appear, Slowly the pungent smell of aniseed chokes the room, Along with the gloom between these two lovers, She snaps words that bruise his inner core, She sees that it hurts and sharpens her daggers, He is waiting to release the cursed monstrosity that is so reminiscent of times past, Voices raise and the verbal swords are whipping through wounds that have never healed, At least not for tonight, He leaves his thrown for two reasons, One to quench his thirst for numbness, And the other to show that misused martial arts can further sustain an ego, I sit in my room listening to the cries that could wake the dead, The thud of drunkin footsteps thunder down the hallway towards my room, I hear his voice, he has left the thrown, The bedroom door slams, It is not mine, I wish it wasn't next to my room, I hear him hit her over and over again, Slamming her against walls so hard that the house shook, I want to do something but at eleven years old I was so frightened, The supposed saviour didn't do anything as their restraining orders were like jokes, But no-one seemed to laugh. He leaves his pool of guilt and makes a booking the usual motel, And I go to sleep to the sound of my mother sobbing into the night, The next day at school I spoke not a word of my experience, They wouldn't understand, My teachers already labelled me the day I walked through the gates.
They never deserved it...
I was a bystander to a myriad of violence in my life, but none compared to the violent acts committed against my mother. Most of my life, I was taught that violence was a moral way to settle a dispute. These thoughts were not influenced by my immediate family, but more from my immediate network of friends. There was strict a code though, ‘no violence towards women’. It wasn’t really an ethical code, it was more of a macho ‘if you hit a women, you’re a bitch’ kind of logic (not the most ideal way of looking at the situation).
My mother and father divorced when I was 10 years old and my circumstances never felt fruitful since. Not long after the divorce, my mother started to date an older gentleman by the name of ‘Anthony’ or better known by his friends and family as ‘Tony’. The first six or so months went the way any ordinary relationship would… the familiarities of a ‘honeymoon period’. My mother was seemingly happy, but I never liked Tony.
My mother is/was a very confrontational person, she has always held a Jeckle vs Hyde type of personality. One moment she would express an odd type of affection and the next a gut wrenching type of hate that feels like all your worst days rolled into one. There was no halfway points, just one or the other. On occasion she would react violently, but her words and hateful energy was her prized weapon. This made any of her relationships a painful experience.
Tony stood 6’3 and weighed over 120kgs. He was a very simple character, not too intelligent but self-righteous arrogance and deep-rooted misogyny ran through his core. He had a ‘take no shit’ attitude, but unfortunately it had no filter.
Both my mother and Tony would drink every night, a bottle of Ouzo to share and a few wines in between. Tony would drink the majority, but they both struggled to manage their alcohol consumption and it’s reflections upon those close to them. It was the same dance every night, drink themselves into a fight. The good nights were when the disputes didn’t get physical, but unfortunately many nights they did. My mother would antagonise him with a barrage of mental abuse (her forte) and Tonys simpleness saw violence as the only reasonable solution. The fights were unfair and horrible to witness, especially as a kid.
My mother was at times a pretty vicious character, but in all honesty she was a victim of a prescribed ignorance and the unfair violence it brought forth. She didn’t deserve the physical punishment caused by a man twice her size… and it pains me to say…Tony didn’t deserve the mental bullying either.
I was a bystander to this back and forth abuse for over 5 years and it taught me quite a few lessons. I have no tolerance for bullying and violence of any kind, unless it is in fair sport or a very last resort form of self defence. I have been in many confrontations as a kid (many violent) and my experience has taught me that logical words and personal disarmament is the best way to peace.
The degradation of oppressed humans has been going on for as long as the history books can read and it is engrained into our culture. It doesn’t matter what walk of life you are placed into, no-one should have the right too oppress you either physically or mentally. We all walk different paths to get to the space we call ‘now’ and I think that life is built on an appreciation of that difference.
Next week I will be releasing a retrospective poem/piece related to a situation that recurred in my family home.
New York II
I've been in bed sick for the past couple of days and today I pushed myself to get out and face New York again. First I fought through the horrible tourists to the top of the Rockefeller Building and then I set out to Roosevelt Island to peep the Four Freedoms Park... one of the nicest places I have ever been, I felt like I was dirtying up the place by just being there. I'm now back in Harlem drinking a Colt 45 like a B. Here are a couple of unedited pics of my travels.
New York
I've been in New York for a few days now, after being a virgin New Yorker, I can say this place has really got a grip on me. I've had some much needed chill time and I'm ready to get stuck into working on the new film in the next week. Wish me luck!
Thank you
Today I'm not ‘proud’ to be an Australian or more contextually I'm not proud of the history our current flag bares. I honour the traditional custodians of this once beautiful land and I stand proud of the people understand that it is not ours and it never will be. I'd like to think that we all live in one world and traditional customs of land origins must be respected from historical through to future living. Unfortunately, much of our history is conveniently forgotten or portrayed with tokenistic gestures.
Today, this government have so much to apologise for, yet their words are chosen and the past/ongoing torment and loss of ancestry is still prevalent in today’s blindfolded society.
Please know that we all stand on sacred land, which is something that we were unfairly awarded. Do not follow in the current footsteps of our misguided government and choose to take part in a better future, where everyone is treated equally... always and forever.
I pushed a button last night
I DJ'd (pushed buttons) for my brothers Motley and Rydah last night, people said I was a great DJ, even though I pressed one button and then leaned against the wall. It was a pretty rad show though, a few people recognised my name from my films which was nice.
My fear of death
I’ve had a lingering relationship with death and it haunts me in my every waking moment. It’s something that has plagued my thoughts and emotions, and has set me up for inevitable breakdowns in countless situations. This thought process eventuated approximately two years ago, I had been suffering from pretty extreme anxiety attacks, in between, excessive bouts with depression. After many years of enduring this double edged sword it took it’s toll.
After a good/positive days work I was sitting in my office going through emails, when suddenly I felt my heart start to increase in pace. It was such a strange/unfamiliar sensation and no matter what I tried to do to stop it, it seemed to worsen. My heart honestly felt like it was going to explode or at least break one of my ribs. The dizziness took over and I collapsed to the floor. Being such a foreign feeling, I was convinced that I was having a heart attack.
My life flashed before my eyes and I was certain I was going to die then and there. I would love to say that I immediately thought of my loved ones and all things one is supposed to think before they die, but the only feeling I had was an intense fear of losing myself and my place in the world (it was not a time for rational thinking). I frantically drove to the hospital (something completely out of character for me), arrived at emergency and stayed there until I got the all clear around 6 hours later. I soon learnt that I had experienced a severe panic attack and that they are quite common.
I was hoping to have a life changing experience, like the ones you read and hear about. You know the whole ‘new lease of life thing’, but unfortunately this did not eventuate at all. This fear for ‘loss of self’ has attached to my existing anxiety aliment and it has been extremely challenging to shake.
At one stage, my disorder got so bad, that I couldn’t even drive past an ambulance, without getting an intense fear which always lead to complete physical debilitation. It eventually got to the stage where I couldn’t handle anyone talking about death in my presence.
This incident lead to a disorder called ‘Thanatophobia’ a phobia related to the fear of death/dying. It is extremely difficult to live with, as I am not religious nor have any faith any one great power. I wouldn’t call myself an atheist, because I have a genuine interest in religion and I think it is very real to the people practise it, it’s just not in tune with my personal legend. My beliefs have lead to a genuine fear of the unknown, loss of control and loss of self. This phobia is now the root of my anxiety disorder.
A simple cure would be to change my core beliefs, but it’s not that simple. My belief is that no-one truly has an answer to my intrigue. Many people have offered solutions and advice, but unfortunately they come from a place of love and ill experience rather than genuine truth. My theory is, unless a person experiences death, no-one truly understands or has any/all the answers. I have since engaged in activities that have helped me reach a better plane, but shaking the phobia entirely is so difficult.
Since discussing my phobia, I have met so many people that have a similar mindset and it is more common than people think. Like many aliments, I think it’s healthy to talk about it and have society understand that it real and not just a crazy ideology.
I have spent so much time trying to ignore and avoid the subject of death, and now I’m ready to confront it and encourage others to talk about it. I have decided to put together a film to explore others thoughts on death and why they carry intense fears related to it. The intention is to create a heightened sense of community and understanding.
So, why are you afraid of dying? (contact me Shayne@eightytwothieves.com)
A few days after 'The Bleakness'
It has been a few days since the release of my film ‘The Bleakness’. Upon reaching out to people, my inbox has been flooded with messages of kindness, sorrow and most of all a unique collection of connection. So many individuals have been kind and brave enough to share their stories with me, perhaps without ever finding the courage to reach out to anyone before. This truly has been a humbling experience. I, in no way have the cure or remedy to the illness described in the film, but I do know that talking about it helps management and communal understanding. Those that feel creativity does not engage people to move towards a better place, are seriously misguided. I feel that opening up your creative realms (wherever they may lead), expose many emotions positive, negative or balanced and helps give them a place to go, with the view of eventually leading to self realisation. I describe it as holding a feeling in a closed room with no doors, sometimes you just have to say ‘fuck it’ I’m knocking a wall down, even if it takes what seems like forever.
One thing I have taken from this experience is that you need a whole lot of strength to live in a world that does not truly understand mental illness. Each day living is another day stronger, even if you feel you are deteriorating at times (or even all the time). I also believe that there is a reason why you feel the way you do and the quest to find yourself can be a gruelling journey, but strength of character always appears at the other end, even if it is forged through steel.
Personally, I think the hardest part is self identifying your character, I get told I’m strong all the time and what I do inspires many, these are nice things to say (and I believe it is real to the people that say it), but the connection with myself rarely eventuates. My continued plan this year is to delve it to self-discovery of both myself and others and hopefully my creative endeavours, encourage the likeminded to do the same.
I want to personally thank Matt, for being so candid and honest. It’s funny to think that he thought he wouldn’t have the ability to impact on anyone. I will be showing him the messages of kindness and connection I have received over the last few days and I hope he can feel better understood and relatable to others with likeminded feelings. I certainly resonated with him.
Thanks to everyone who has watched and shared the film. I would also again like to express many thanks those that chose to share their stories with me.
Stay up!
Shayne aka Johnny Brixton.