9. The Zen

I have found the Zen!

Having never been a natural photographer and in class struggling to grasp the ins and outs of apertures, exposures and frame rates, I discovered over the weekend, while shooting in Wanaka, that there is something very satisfying about filming.

First there is the musing about what will be in the shot. The foreground, the back ground, the contrasting colours and shapes, the framing and the action. Then there is the setting up of the camera on its tripod, with knobs that won't tighten and others that won't loosen. The adjusting of legs to make them level or the scratching at the ground to make it level. Next comes the twisting of lenses, the selecting of filters and the pulling of the focus until, having pushed every button, turned every dial and twisted everything that looks twistable there was nothing else left for me to do except look down the viewfinder, press the record button and stand back to marvel over the greatness of my cinematography. Which of course consisted of dappled sunlight on swaying grass, the sun rising over white peaked mountains and a slow pan across a shimmering lake.

It was only after the shoot when the sun had set, the day was at its end and the batteries were all dead that I discovered that everyone in the shot was an unhealthy yellow colour. I had forgotten to do the all important 'white balance'.

But the fun and excellent film-making did not stop there!

The following morning, at 6am, I set out to film the sunrise over the lake and snow capped mountains that surround the town of Wanaka. In the pitch black, not able to see anything through my camera lens, I pointed it at what I hoped would be a good shot. The darkness however, was the least of my problems. The lake and mountains were in the west! I just had to pray that the snowy mountains would catch the sunlight as it rose behind me.

Luckily, the snow and clouds did pick up the light superbly and all was going well until I realised that my battery was almost dead however, being the amateur that I am, I had forgotten to bring the spare one. In the middle of my sunrise I packed up my camera, raced back to my hostel, got the second battery, raced back to the lake, set up my shot again and just hoped for the best, considering the best of the sunrise had been and gone.

But not to worry! If I had missed the best of the sunrise, I had not missed the best moment of the day's filming.

I had set my camera up at the edge of the lake just in front of a walking track. Being early morning with few people about I figured I would spot anyone walking a mile away and be able to divert them. Maybe?

Out of nowhere a pesky kid runs past, right through my shot. Ah! How could I have missed him? On the bright side it was not all bad, I could always edit him out. Now however, I was determined that I must keep a keen eye out for any other strays.

I did manage to divert one tourist who, with much hand waving and gesticulating on my part, finally understood I wanted him to go round the back of the camera not in front.

I had been standing for 2 hours blocking out the wind that was threatening to blow my camera over and my knees where starting to wobble. I decided that since the wind had died down I would go and sit in the car from where I would still have a clear view of any walkers threatening to spoil my masterpiece. I should mention that the "car" was actually a huge 4x4 Toyota Hilux. Sitting perched high up in the driver's seat I sat back to wait out the rest of the sunrise.

I was sure it was only for a second that I lost concentration, but when I turned around to check for walkers there was a guy riding along the path heading straight for my camera. Without much thought other than I had to stop him and stop him fast, I leaped from the car seat. However, I must have forgotten just how big the car was and so instead of my feet reaching the ground I found myself in free fall as I tumbled out of the car door and thudded to the ground.

Dazed and clutching at my smarting elbow, I staggered to my feet only to see the cyclist riding off into the distance. My was sunset ruined.

I packed up my camera in disgust and wondered what the hell I was doing trying to become a film-maker!

The Zen? That came at the end of the day when, exhausted, I crawled into bed.

8. Second Time Lucky

Our camera teacher Paul Donavan took us out into the wilds of New Zealand to film 'real' wildlife. Fur Seals and Penguins were promised.

After an hour's hike with heavy packs, tripods and gear for building hides we made it to Victory beach only to discover that there was no wildlife.
















On our way back along the beach in search of penguins we encountered a lone seal. However, the fact that it was a Leopard Seal, which usually hang out in Antarctic waters and not under the hot sun on New Zealand beaches, was the first clue that all was not well. It paid us little attention as we crowed round to get some footage and when it did stir it barely had the energy to move more than a few meters. I, for one, felt that by filming we were stressing the poor creature and so decided to put my camera away and move off. First time filming and my first ethical dilemma!















That evening, after building a very unstable hide we sat, sardine fashion, in the sand dunes and waited with baited breath for Yellow-eyed Penguins to return to their burrows.



The effort was worth it, and at about 5pm sure enough some very cautious penguins emerged from the waves and ambled up the beach past our hide and into their burrows. The hide however, did not fool them a moment and although they steered well clear of us we did manage to get some shots.





I am now ofically a wildlife documentor!

I would like to thank Julia Kebling and Sarah Cowhey for the beautiful photographs!

7. The Plot Thickens

I am well and truly in the think of it. In two weeks I have to pitch my film idea to my class in the hope that someone will love it so much that they will just be itching to join me in making it. My only other option is to give up my dreams of swimming with the whales and instead, team up with someone whose idea trumps mine...NEVER!

I am in panic mode. I am still trying to track down information, articles, ideas, conclusions and pictures. But more to the point I am still trying to schmooze with the right people in an attempt to convince someone to take me out to film whales. Admittedly my film idea is about fossil whales and I don't really need footage of live ones, but it just wouldn't feel complete with out the real thing.

Not only this, but my pitch, I have been informed, must use audiovisual aids where appropriate. I am still trying to work out when their use would not be appropriate, in the hope that I can somehow forgo them. I still can't work out how to upload a picture to this irritable blog never mind incorporate them into a fancy presentation. Gasp!

Added to the tangle in my web and the knot in my knickers is a rather interesting revelation about my tale of the ancient whales. My story starts in Australia with a young paleontologist and his newly found 25 million year old whale fossil, and takes me to New Zealand where there just happens to live the world's leading expert on whale evolution, Dr Ewan Fordyce.

I thought when I went to interview him the other day that it would simply be to check facts and maybe get some good quotes to use in the pitch. I could not have been more wrong. To my horror his version of events was in total contrast to the Australian scientist's version. They know each other well and they have agreed to disagree.

At first this threw me and I started to hyperventilate as I pictured my Natural History Documentary, my baby, crumbling to my feet or rather exploding in an almighty bang! It soon dawned on me however, that my plot had just thickened. Any good storyteller knows that conflict is by far the tastiest piece.

Now my story spans 25 million years, the Tasman Sea, at least two generations of scientist AND it has a hint of tension, a simmering debate or maybe it’s just a gentleman’s disagreement. Whatever it is, I like it!

Alas, my excitement at this new found twist was sadly marred by the realisation that my mid-semester break which was going to be a blissful week on the white hills of Wanaka will instead be a week of blood, sweat and tears as I try to conjure up a breath taking, mind blowing, awe inspiring audiovisual bonanza without any whale footage.

6. Deluded in Vegas

Today we had a class with a prominent New Zealand film-maker who makes Natural History programs for the American market. I say American market and not international because, as he pointed out, there are two TV markets in the world. The Americans are one and then there is everyone else.

The difference between the two markets is that Americans, or at least some of the Executive Producers of the world's biggest wildlife TV companies, don't know what insects are. Call them "Bugs" however, and the animated movie springs to mind and they can now understand what sort of creatures you are talking about.

Whether or not they realise that you will be filming live bugs and not animated ones is anyone’s guess.

For Americans the naked bottoms of white men must be fuzzed, but film a black tribesman and he does not need to be afforded the same privacy, and rule three for all Natural History documentary makers wishing to enter the American market is never be so bold as to make the link between pigs and pork. As far as Americans are concerned (or at least in TV Exec's view), pigs are animals that are pink and go "Oink" and pork is what you buy at a supermarket. They don't think it wise to confuse anyone with the facts.

Lastly, one must make sure that the Natural History programs you make are not, as one American EP put it, "too intellectual". The fact that pork comes from pigs may be an example of this.

While I found these revelations bizarre, the question that I was asking was not whether or not such specifications are reasonable or right, but rather who are these faceless TV executives making decision about what Natural History the American public views and secondly on what, if anything, do they base such bizarre logic?

What's more, how on earth did we get to the point where someone who does not know what an insect is makes executive decisions about what Natural History programs go to air?

One can only imagine that they are the same TV producers who asked Sir David Attenborough if they could dub over his voice with an American one because, to their knowledge, the American public would not be able to understand one of the most eloquent English speakers on the planet!

It was rather fortunate that Attenborough had the piece of mind to decline the generous offer. Surprise! Surprise! The American public understood him perfectly well. In fact, his programs have been some of the most popular Natural History programs ever screened there.

But to answer the first question - who are these executives that decided what kind of Natural History goes to air - I guess I was not surprised to find out that most have a degree in business or marketing and not anything that might lend itself to an insightful understanding of what constitutes a good Natural History documentary, or for that matter, what an insect is.

I was however, greatly relieved to find that their decisions are actually based on something credible. Masses of market research! The examples of market research that our speaker gave were however, less than convincing.

'The People Monitor'test sounds quite legitimate, or would be, if it resembled anything even vaguely close to the choice of 'the people'.

One method of 'people monitoring' used by American TV companies to decide if the public will like a new show, is 'The Vegas' test. The concept is simple enough. Go to Las Vegas (I was already cringing by this stage), ask 30 people on the streets of Vegas if they would like to watch a new TV show and then ask them whether or not they give it the thumb ups.

Las Vegas, for those who have forgotten, is a wonderful place. A city built in the middle of the Nevada desert for the sole purpose of gambling, or getting married under the influence, or both. I believe Brittany took a fancy to one of the above.

One can only imagine that the type of person who frequents such a place must be somewhat delusional. Deluded that they have come to win their fortune, deluded that it's not the booze that makes him so attractive and deluded that taking a holiday in a totally artificial environment that is so far removed from reality is NOT disturbingly disturbing!

The most disturbing part is that the market research for Natural History documentary is conducted on people who are in a place that is totally divorced from reality never mind the natural world!

The results of this kind of 'people monitoring'? The sad state of TV we see today. In which the rest of us are subjected to watching the best of an appalling lot. Take your pick. A bunch of the world's most inarticulate teens on Big Brother, self absorbed men and desperate women on The Bachelor or someone dry retching because they are trying to eat some large hairy insect on Survivor. And all because the 'market research' is based on the views of what must be some of the world's most unimaginative people.

Surely, a better plan would be to take the 'people monitor' to the streets of Harvard or Cambridge, but really anywhere other than Vegas would do. Then the rest of us would not have to be exasperated by the stupid, the dumb and the puerile and instead the Vegas crowd would be forced to watch the worst of an excellent lot.

I have a sneaking suspicion that like all the Americans who could not only understand, but loved, Attenborough that the Las Vegas crowd would actually enjoy some quality programming too.

5. Conversion to Irwin

I have at last happened upon an idea for my Natural History documentary that will not require a budget similar to that of the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy. This is a great relief. I was getting worried.

At the moment, it involves some 25 million year old bones, a trip to the southern coastline of Australia (virgin has some great deals), computer animation of a toothed mysticete and some serious scripting to make it all work.

At the moment there seems little going for it because I only have little bits of the story, and like digging for fossils I will need to scratch around for more bits here and there before I can start to piece them all together, and make it into something that resembles a documentary. At least the seed of an idea is there and I am convinced that it will only get better from here…Surely!

I did also speak with none other than "the" Mike Rubbo and he seemed to think it might be a go’er. For those of you, who like me, are totally film UN-savvy and did not know who Mike Rubbo was until two days ago, he is the director of 'Waiting for Fidel' and many other excellent docos.

Speaking of big names, I recently became acquainted with none other than the guy who launched none other than Steve Irwin...Gasp! Well, that was my reaction.

I have always vowed to sock Mr. Irwin in the gob should I ever meet him, and that went for anyone even vaguely associated with him. Admittedly, I have not seen much of Mr. Irwin’s work due to my personal boycott, but of the little I have seen I felt that it did nothing to promote respect, understanding or reverence for animals and their environment. Rather, I felt his style of sticking his shnoz as close as possible without getting it bitten off encouraged interference and disregard for the personal space of wild animals.

I have to admit however, that I might have been converted…Well, just a little. Not converted so much that I have a new love for Mr. Irwin, that I doubt will ever happen, but I did realise that the bloke who launched him is doing much to further the plight of the world’s animals and doing it in a very innovative way.

Other programs of his, such as 'Up Close and Dangerous', greatly impressed me. Here was really interesting Natural History documentary. It was edgy and fast paced, and despite being far removed from anything his excellence Sir Attenborough might do, they still evoked respect and wonder for the natural world, and that I take my hat off to!

So while I would still like plonk one on Mr. Irwin's shnoz on behalf of all the poor defenseless creatures that have had to suffer the indignity of having his grinning mug dangerously close to their own, I will refrain from including all those involved in his rise to stardom. More to the point though is that my mind has been opened to a whole new Natural History possibility. There is much to be said for that.

4. Mad or Nomad

Despite the fact that I am only four weeks in to this course, I am painfully aware that at the end is the inevitable getting of a job, having a career, finding an occupation. Just in its self this is scary, but yesterday what came to mind was just how monotonous occupations are.

When humans were nomadic everything changed. For the hunter-gatherer no two days were the same: the horizon always changing as they traveled in search of food; new bird song to listen to as they moved from forest to savannah and the new seasons bringing new fruits.

In the past we consoled our selves with the knowledge that life for the hunter-gatherer was harsh. There was famine, drought and lions to contend with and all without the help of technology. But the evidence is now indisputable that in fact, life for the hunter-gatherer was easy, food abundant and time endless. It is thought that they only spent three to four hours a day hunting and gathering and the rest was just that. Rest.

For the hunter-gatherer Life was abundant. Before white settlers wiped them out, 70-60 bison roamed the North American prairies and ever since then we have been slowly, but surely wiping out hundreds of species every year. The mind boggles at just how much Life there must have been if we can manage to loose species at a rate of knots and there still be millions left.

But there was more than just food. The earth provided everything they needed. Millions of plants and animals from which to craft fur coats, massive forests proving all the materials needed to build shelter, rives and lakes and billabongs filled to over flowing with fresh water, and all under a dazzling sun. Yet, nomadic life has all but disappeared and in its place we have created the desk job, which has more to do with death than it does life.

So how the hell did we go from endless abundance, invigorating change and easy living to this? When and why did humans decided that they needed something other than Life to occupy their time? Did they decided at all, or was it a mistake, an experiment gone horribly wrong?

Some hunter-gathers are known to have farmed. In PNG they cleared small patches in the dense forest to plant crops which on their travels they would pass, gorge themselves on and then continue their journey. But why did such joyful and rewarding experiments get turned in to grueling work? More to the point, what could possibly make the Soul want to stifle the instinct to traverse the land, taste the new seasons fruit and rest during the heat of the day, and opt for the sedentary life style?

It is not that we have lost these urges. Holidays never come fast and often enough, we all could do with a little R and R and the travel bug, once caught, is a chronic condition.

So, if the instinct to live the nomadic life never left us, why have we lost sight of this way of life? Could it have been that somehow, at sometime in our history we forgot to heed our instinct? We forgot to listen when our instinct told us that nomadic life was better for the soul than tilling the fields all day in the hot sun, or that tilling fields was at least better for the soul than toiling at a desk?

I certainly can not think what else it could have been. There was no reason, nothing forcing such a change. It is only now that fresh water supplies are running low, that our land is so parched and silted that crops won’t grow, and that we are watching the earth's ecosystems collapse before our eyes. It is only now that Life is no longer abundant.

Why or what made humans stop listening to their instinct I will never know, but whatever it was I want no part of it. My nomadic instinct is still strong and while I know that I must soon find an occupation, I also know that I will never make a career out of it unless is fulfills this nomadic instinct.

Maybe it is this that has brought me here. Not so much to Dunedin, godforbid, but to learn the craft of Natural History Film-making. A craft in which, if I am lucky, I will visit new horizons, hear new bird songs and taste the new seasons fruit.

I wish me luck!