Dear friends,
I try to build my life around a rhythm, and it helps to keep a degree of order and flow between my freelance, creative and personal lives.
In recent weeks, though, that’s collapsed, and I’ve been in desperation mode, dealing with whatever happens to be the critical priority as the day starts.
A danger sign for me is always when one chaos merges with another. It manifests in strange, sometimes comedic ways.
Here are some tales from my recent freelance life, and reflections on how a degree of chaos can help you bring out your best for your clients.
Even if you sometimes feel like you’re walking a tightrope over an abyss!
Rolling Stone and the Strange Case of the Missing Cat
Last week, I was filming for Rolling Stone.
We entered the venue, set up our gear, and greeted the artist, one of the biggest rappers in Germany.
“Ah, UFO360!” I exclaim, reaching out to shake his hand.
“Eh, UFO361, man” he corrects.
Damn.
A beat passes.
He cracks up.
Ice broken!
Things were going well until UF0 361’s cat decided to climb into the ventilation shaft. The poor little thing then managed to get itself stuck behind one of the sound panels in Sony’s multimillion-euro studio. But in the end:
The cat was rescued.
Rolling Stone was thrilled with the interview.
And I even learnt UF0’s real name.
Phew!
Fête de la musique and the Curse of the Musical Gods
Chaos manifested in a different way the week before.
One of my regular jobs over the last years has been to make the short film for Berlin’s Fête de la musique, one of the cultural highlights of the summer.
My boss, Björn Döring - one of the heroes of my life in Berlin - gave me a list of essential shots and gigs to film.
The essence of making a good film for Fête de la Musique is to ensure you capture enough venues across the city to reflect the diversity of artists, styles, and locations.
This means dashing around on bike, taxi, train and foot - whatever gets you to the next gig!
I received three mission-critical concerts (all at the start of my agenda), took a deep breath, and readied myself for the adventure.
The first venue was a rooftop atop the old Airport at Tempelhofer Feld. We were excited about this as a centrepiece of this year’s film.
And then the musical gods struck.
A washout.
No show. No gig. No centrepiece. Damn!
Realizing the only way to get to the next shoot on time was to dash across the vast Tempelhofer Feld; I rented a bike.
Halfway across, the storm took its opportunity and stepped up a level: vertical rain, lightning, and thunder.
Seesawing between feeling valiant and utterly neurotic, I saw a sharp movement out of the corner of my eye.
An elderly lady had come off her bike!
I helped her, but she was badly shaken up. Having had a hip replacement a few months ago and clearly unable to either ride her bike or walk on, we found a bench, and I called for medical help.
She was lovely, tough as boots, and we began to chat—huddled under my yellow raincoat hoisted above, protecting us from the rain. She kept insisting I get to my show—where she was also going—but there was nothing to do but wait it out until help arrived.
After it did, I bustled on, thinking I might catch the end of the gig.
Of course, I didn’t.
At that point, Björn called to update me that the third priority gig at Brandenburg Gate had also been called off!
It’s a filmmaker's nightmare: to be on a time-critical agenda and find yourself unable to fulfil any commitments for your client!
Luckily, one of Björn’s great leadership qualities is his capacity to trust his team.
In a nutshell: get out there, do your thing, and get us a film made!
When in a tricky spot, it’s amazing what a boon trust is.
I bustled into as many venues as I could and started racking up concerts, including buskers greeting the rain with full amplification.
And then, the sun emerged!
I got back on the bike, dashed across Tempelhofer Feld, this time free of medical emergencies, and arrived near the original location.
The first thing I hear:
The rooftop concert is back on!
With the day dimming and golden streaks lighting up the iconic airport, we captured the rooftop gig.
From there, the rest of the filming flowed, as if the tests of earlier were exactly that; a test to see if you’re willing to stay in the process.
The Dark Tenor
A final example of the recent chaos in my freelance life.
A few weeks ago, I received a call from The Dark Tenor to shoot a music video.
There were limitations, including a very short time window in the build-up, meaning I would have no time to check the location due to my packed schedule.
I explained but the idea Billy had was all about spontaneity, action and getting something made.
He wanted to make it raw and real.
Arriving on location for our “mini DIY shoot” there were 70 fans, a full band, his entourage and the local crew.
I went into the location.
And died inside.
The venue was great but dark.
We’d made the decision that for the film to be raw, it shouldn’t be lit like our usual videos together - which have been big productions.
Normally, I’d bring backup lights with me, but with Donna at the mechanic for the last two weeks, it was just me and my camera bag. It was a long time since I felt it, but I really was dying inside.
Working Through Awkward Feelings
100 people.
Me.
My Camera.
What, I’m the director?
It’s interesting to notice yourself in these situations.
Because there is a tendency to fragment.
I felt anxious in a way I hadn’t for a very long time. But there was nothing to do but deal with it. To do so, I had to:
Accept the situation.
Level with the feeling.
Get back to first principles.
That meant consciously returning to the root of my creative belief:
You can make anything out of anything if the feeling is right.
It’s not about the gear.
It’s not about the weather.
It’s not about the resources.
It IS about the exchange, the energy, the spirit.
I spoke with Billy.
We zeroed in on his vision.
And then every decision we made was about going after it with all our heart.
We bundled everyone into the tightest space, gee-ed everyone up, and the most bonkers and berserk day of filming ensued!
Takeaways from Creativity and Chaos
Though chaos should never be relied upon:
It is a creative tool.
We want to control everything.
But sometimes, all we can do is surrender.
To give ourselves over to the only thing that we can ever really know - that whatever the circumstances, we can still give our best.
No matter if a rapper’s cat disappears into the ventilation shaft.
Or the musical gods throw down their cataclysms.
Or the scale of the job feels beyond the tools we have at our disposal.
Recent chaos reminded me that even when you are fragmented or feeling desperately anxious:
Things can still go well.
And more so:
They can end up being your best.
Sometimes the challenge is to internalize the lessons we learn—so that the next time we feel we’re going under—we remember we’re not going under, but deeper.
Final Thought
When you film, like in life, things go wrong.
In fact, the act of creation is seldom about this mythical thing, inspiration.
It’s about putting your whole heart into every single detail, over and over— especially when things go wrong.
No matter how compromised everything seems, those small acts of faith weave into a quilt more magnificent than any moment suggests.
The hardest thing is keeping faith in those times.
Next time, try to trust in those small acts—who's to say they aren't leading to your best work?
Thank you as ever for your support, dear friends.
With love — and see you next week,
Jim