So... Andy from CANNES in a VAN here.
I just wanted to add to the ninja Jamie's blog to say a few things. Some of them worthless, some of them worthwhile...
3 blokes. A van. A projector.
An amazing, inspiring, incredible journey. For anyone following Jamie's writings along the way, you'll already know how he's captured every minute in an exquisite and beautiful way. The dude is gifted with words and his analogies hit home, which, to quote the man himself, "is good". For those of you who've only read this tiny paragraph - go back (or forth) and read his blog from the start. It will give you an insight into the man's truly inspiring philosophies on life.
For those of you who are still reading this bit... a few things. I've just finished listening to The Films, a band I've just seen at The Borderline tonight. Their name is The Films - it's a good name and quite fitting for CiaV. Check them out on MySpace, the album's out in June sometime. They had a good live presence.
I'm now listening to Deftones, which is a band Jamie has been banging on about over the whole trip. So I bought it. He did his bit for music PR.
What we'd like to do next with CANNES in a VAN is bring it home to a British audience, starting with London, our physical home. I wanted to say 'spiritual home', but I'm not sure that would be the truth. We want to promote new bands in the most lo-fi way we know - playing stuff from our van. The Films is the first band we're going to play.
At the same time, we'll be playing stuff from a composer/sound designer we met in Cannes. His name is James Tinney.
He's a sound bloke (no pun intended).
Finally, I wanted to say to anyone who cares... It all counts. Every click, every second you give CANNES in a VAN means there's one more person who knows what we're trying to do. That's cool. So click back when you're bored and maybe there'll be something new. Oh... and come and see some films if you've got time. They're really bloody good.
Cheers
Andy
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
19:16pm, 28th May 2007
We are back in England. Each in our own place.
Got in at about two this morning.
Been chilling with flat mates for the day.
Got home to find a cut copy of the new Akala album in the post for me.
He is a great dude. Check out the album when it comes out. The producer Rez is one of the most intelligent men that I’ve ever met. Go and buy a copy in a few months when it comes out. It’s brilliant. Five stars hands down.
Cannes is far behind, somewhere south.
We were close to tension by the end. Though I have to say that the outcome was worth it. Luckily we didn’t try to kill each other. God what a trip. Incredible.
It’s raining here in Highgate.
Happy to be back. Andy and Si’s imagination came to concrete truth.
Feel like I bandwagoned it a bit.
Should anyone reading this see either of them at any point, give ‘em the time of day, ‘cause those guys have drive worth following.
Cheers for following the Cannes in a Van ‘ting.
Will post again in a few days.
Laters,
Jamie
Got in at about two this morning.
Been chilling with flat mates for the day.
Got home to find a cut copy of the new Akala album in the post for me.
He is a great dude. Check out the album when it comes out. The producer Rez is one of the most intelligent men that I’ve ever met. Go and buy a copy in a few months when it comes out. It’s brilliant. Five stars hands down.
Cannes is far behind, somewhere south.
We were close to tension by the end. Though I have to say that the outcome was worth it. Luckily we didn’t try to kill each other. God what a trip. Incredible.
It’s raining here in Highgate.
Happy to be back. Andy and Si’s imagination came to concrete truth.
Feel like I bandwagoned it a bit.
Should anyone reading this see either of them at any point, give ‘em the time of day, ‘cause those guys have drive worth following.
Cheers for following the Cannes in a Van ‘ting.
Will post again in a few days.
Laters,
Jamie
23:21pm, France, same day as it was a few hours ago.
We are cold and tired and bored and waiting at the tunnel.
19:51pm, 27th May 2007
Out the other side of Paris. The city that can be relied upon to reset the brain.
Very close to the train. Sat in back of van.
Andy and Si are inside a service station, probably the four hundredth that we have been to, and I have spent the last twenty minutes being followed around by a Romany kid who is trying to sell me a ring. I don’t have any change. Or rather, the change I do have has got to be used on the toll at the end of this motorway, otherwise we can’t get out of France. I think.
This service station is on the Somme Bay. Apparently twenty nations fought to the death on the field behind it in the Great War. From the front it looks like a lay-by loo stop. From the back it is all rolling plains, ducks and history.
A whole hoard of people died at this here service station. Shot, exploded, gassed.
Now it sells petrol and t-shirts.
Strangely enough, this place is probably the most relevant part of the whole trip. None of us are thinking about anything in particular, though that might be quite a sweeping statement seeing as I neither Si nor Andy. We just are. Chilled. Waiting to hit the road for the final stretch out of France. Knowing that we have accomplished what we set out to do.
Passed through Courtenay today. Bunch of my family came from there. Then a load of them went on to fight on the Somme. Now I’m sat here in a big yellow van surrounded by film-projecting equipment and a crate of short films waiting for my friends to tire of the bench inside. There probably shouldn’t be a car-stop built here. There probably shouldn’t be anything built here, though that would of course defeat the point of the battle.
We should come back here and show a film the next time we drive past.
The Romany boy just tried one last time. He seems to live in a caravan in the field behind. Nice place to live.
Andy just got in the van, figure that we’re rolling soon.
Very close to the train. Sat in back of van.
Andy and Si are inside a service station, probably the four hundredth that we have been to, and I have spent the last twenty minutes being followed around by a Romany kid who is trying to sell me a ring. I don’t have any change. Or rather, the change I do have has got to be used on the toll at the end of this motorway, otherwise we can’t get out of France. I think.
This service station is on the Somme Bay. Apparently twenty nations fought to the death on the field behind it in the Great War. From the front it looks like a lay-by loo stop. From the back it is all rolling plains, ducks and history.
A whole hoard of people died at this here service station. Shot, exploded, gassed.
Now it sells petrol and t-shirts.
Strangely enough, this place is probably the most relevant part of the whole trip. None of us are thinking about anything in particular, though that might be quite a sweeping statement seeing as I neither Si nor Andy. We just are. Chilled. Waiting to hit the road for the final stretch out of France. Knowing that we have accomplished what we set out to do.
Passed through Courtenay today. Bunch of my family came from there. Then a load of them went on to fight on the Somme. Now I’m sat here in a big yellow van surrounded by film-projecting equipment and a crate of short films waiting for my friends to tire of the bench inside. There probably shouldn’t be a car-stop built here. There probably shouldn’t be anything built here, though that would of course defeat the point of the battle.
We should come back here and show a film the next time we drive past.
The Romany boy just tried one last time. He seems to live in a caravan in the field behind. Nice place to live.
Andy just got in the van, figure that we’re rolling soon.
10:38am, 27th May 2007
The three of us are an hour and a half from Paris.
We have taken a route home that involves straighter roads than those we traversed on the way down to the South of France. Mostly I have slept. Which is a bit rubbish. Si did a spot of bombing the van down the highway at breakneck speed, which was quite fun.
The dashboard of the transit looks like a school cafeteria. Empty and half chewed bits of bread line the inside of the windscreen.
We are doing well for time. So we plan on chilling out in Paris for a little while.
I have not been to Paris for some time. I made a pact with someone that I would never go back without them, though this is kind of by accident so I figure that that might be ok.
Having spent ten days on the French Riveira showing films, being quite hot and generally annoying the other two, I now have no desire to return to London. Perhaps I will make a break for it in the capital. Tempting.
There’s a good hole to crash at on Rue St. Jacque around the 5th Eme.
We are now one hundred and thirty two kilometres from Paris. So states the road sign.
We’re doing seventy miles per hour. My maths is appalling, so I couldn’t tell you how much closer we are to getting there. I just know that we will make it to the border, as it were, and something will shift.
Cannes was obscene as a place. Useful, but fake beyond all recognition. A place fuelled by adrenaline and blind ambition; a place where people pretend to be friends. So, a lot like London, though with better weather and bigger boats. Paris always struck me as slightly more real a city. People seem less like idiots en masse. They don’t expect anything from you. Everyone is left to be themselves and instead people just nod politely at passers by as and when it seems appropriate.
London is close. Maybe not by transit van, but geographically the homestead is near.
Tomorrow morning life will continue as per and as Andy said yesterday, this surreal dream will come to an end.
We just hit a large insect at seventy five miles per hour.
It exploded over our windscreen. Poor bastard; though as it would know if it had been at the 60th Cannes Film Festival, and as the last ten days have proven
… do not underestimate Cannes in a Van.
We have taken a route home that involves straighter roads than those we traversed on the way down to the South of France. Mostly I have slept. Which is a bit rubbish. Si did a spot of bombing the van down the highway at breakneck speed, which was quite fun.
The dashboard of the transit looks like a school cafeteria. Empty and half chewed bits of bread line the inside of the windscreen.
We are doing well for time. So we plan on chilling out in Paris for a little while.
I have not been to Paris for some time. I made a pact with someone that I would never go back without them, though this is kind of by accident so I figure that that might be ok.
Having spent ten days on the French Riveira showing films, being quite hot and generally annoying the other two, I now have no desire to return to London. Perhaps I will make a break for it in the capital. Tempting.
There’s a good hole to crash at on Rue St. Jacque around the 5th Eme.
We are now one hundred and thirty two kilometres from Paris. So states the road sign.
We’re doing seventy miles per hour. My maths is appalling, so I couldn’t tell you how much closer we are to getting there. I just know that we will make it to the border, as it were, and something will shift.
Cannes was obscene as a place. Useful, but fake beyond all recognition. A place fuelled by adrenaline and blind ambition; a place where people pretend to be friends. So, a lot like London, though with better weather and bigger boats. Paris always struck me as slightly more real a city. People seem less like idiots en masse. They don’t expect anything from you. Everyone is left to be themselves and instead people just nod politely at passers by as and when it seems appropriate.
London is close. Maybe not by transit van, but geographically the homestead is near.
Tomorrow morning life will continue as per and as Andy said yesterday, this surreal dream will come to an end.
We just hit a large insect at seventy five miles per hour.
It exploded over our windscreen. Poor bastard; though as it would know if it had been at the 60th Cannes Film Festival, and as the last ten days have proven
… do not underestimate Cannes in a Van.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
11:27am, 26th May 2007
We are on our way out.
Campsite cleaned and left in some respectable condition.
Final night (last night) on the Coisette cancelled due to general exhaustion, inability to find a parking space anywhere in Cannes, plus rain and that. Instead we went to a bar and talked over all that we’ve done in the last ten days.
We turned a yellow transit into an international entity of film. That may sound like total crap, but it’s the truth. The van has been picked up all over the shop. We recently learnt that we have made a national German news paper, Nylon magazine (meaning that we’ve broken the States) and some French TV, as well as the stuff from before. Like the fact that we go out on the Culture Show on BBC2 this Saturday.
The three of us are about to head into Cannes for the last time (this year) and have a look around. Which is something we have not really had the chance to do, having spent the proportionate amount of out time here in or around a van.
I don’t really have the words to describe the last ten days, but a bonkers idea has turned good. Wooo. God knows where it’s going now. London I guess.
Time to hit the road.
Campsite cleaned and left in some respectable condition.
Final night (last night) on the Coisette cancelled due to general exhaustion, inability to find a parking space anywhere in Cannes, plus rain and that. Instead we went to a bar and talked over all that we’ve done in the last ten days.
We turned a yellow transit into an international entity of film. That may sound like total crap, but it’s the truth. The van has been picked up all over the shop. We recently learnt that we have made a national German news paper, Nylon magazine (meaning that we’ve broken the States) and some French TV, as well as the stuff from before. Like the fact that we go out on the Culture Show on BBC2 this Saturday.
The three of us are about to head into Cannes for the last time (this year) and have a look around. Which is something we have not really had the chance to do, having spent the proportionate amount of out time here in or around a van.
I don’t really have the words to describe the last ten days, but a bonkers idea has turned good. Wooo. God knows where it’s going now. London I guess.
Time to hit the road.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
19:11pm, 24th May 2007
Once again sat outside Mc Donald’s trying to use their wifi without actually having to go inside the place. Yesterday damned strange. Everyday strange, but yesterday goes right up there with the top end of a highly strung grappling hook.
Screened the first segment of a brilliant film entitled ‘Will the Real Pimps and Hoes Please Stand Up’. If you get the chance to watch it, do so. We had various cast members and the producer on site, and the night before pretty much everyone involved in the production side came down. They were all on scene promoting the film in the street with us. One of the guys involved (actor/writer) was called True Love, which is a great name. They had come over from Los Angeles to screen it at the American Pavilion (which is a bit swanky). They screened it. Then they brought it to us. Which was nice of them.
At some point last night a ninja appeared on the Croisette, ran around, made some pretty girls scream and then camped out on top of the van for a bit. After proceeding to jump off the van like Onikage
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onikage
it then sat and had an ice cream.
Later on we picked up eight Dutch musicians who’d van had broken down and took them back to their campsite, which was conveniently also out campsite. One of these guys accounts for the trumpet I mentioned in a previous posting. It turns out that they specialise in Dixieland, blues and jazz. They all wore matching orange shirts and claimed that their band was founded in the Netherlands in 1926.
Then we went home, got drunk with them and ate chocolate mousse.
Another professional day nailed at the biggest film in the world.
May the van rock on.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
22nd May 2007, 04:22am
Things change. And you never see it coming. People come and go.
I’ve no idea how to explain today.
As Si put it, it was a game of two halves.
So now I don’t have to explain it, because he’s done it for me.
It’s easy to forget things sometimes. Like the fact that things often turn out well.
Our logos turned up. So the van looks the way it deserves to look after the amount that it has done for us, what with running three computers, four speakers, an amp and a projector from it’s battery for the last five days.
This late afternoon we went to a party on a boat that was moored in Cannes, attempted to project on the pier and for the first time got moved on. So Andy moved the van and then we went back to the party. We screened a lot of films to a lot of people. We had our biggest crowd yet. Giving out free (warm continental) beer to anyone watching probably helped. At one point we accumilated a head count of thirty-odd people in the audience. Which was very satisfying. Then a middle aged French woman passed out whilst watching the films, vomited everywhere, an ambulance was called and then four policemen asked for my papers and searched me for trying to film it whilst laughing at the same time. I stand by it being quite funny.
After that the vibe and crowd kind of died down a bit. Which is fair enough.
So we took the coastal road out of Cannes and went to stand on the beach and contemplate things.
The sea is bloody odd. It’s huge. And alive. I am prone to forgetting that until I stand and look at it. It was past midnight by the point we reached it, and the sky out to sea was black. Utter darkness. Andy and Si stood and talked about all the things that this trip had brought to mind and I occasionally said something like “I agree” or some other thing equally as mundane. The ocean had my attention.
The sea swallows things. Like people. They vanish into it. Undercurrents and that.
The French Riveira allows for one to see the sea-bed through the water for as far as the eyes in question will allow. Even at night, it is possible to follow the sand trails out, though being night, they swiftly disperse into utter obscurity. The ocean really is endless. People underestimate it. Perhaps because we are not aquatic. Really though, seeing as people inhabit one third of the earth and the other two thirds are submerged, it would be silly to be surprised by the things that the sea is capable of throwing at you. And yet I still find it suprising whenever I look at it.
Cannes is filled with vast amounts of glitz, glam and now the van. The potential, art, money, film and style that the dudes and ladies in the streets and convoys project is all very impressive. But it doesn’t really come anywhere close to being on par with the truth in saying that none of it is any use to man or beast underwater. It is of use in one third of the planets ratio, and even then you have to be inclined to give a shit.
The other two thirds, they do things like stir the mind, house fish (who probably don’t like film that much anyway) and on occasion try to disapear passing swimmers.
I have been running through Okinawan drills for a couple of hours in some attempt to chill the mind and take a step back from it all. It has sort of worked.
There are a lot of good people out there who don’t deserve the things that happen to them. So hey, this is age old news but it still has relevence. These people spend a lot of time being resigned to life as it occurs, going unheard. Unheard is never good.
I’m happy that some of the films that we are putting out of the back of the van that is Cannes in a Van allow for people to take that step back from their day.
Even if it be for the duration of a short film.
They come, they sit, they watch. They listen to someones story and by all logic, the story came from somewhere.
Then they get up and wander off. In an enviroment as ludicrous as the biggest film festival in the world, that’s probably no bad thing.
Like Si said, “a game of two halves”.
I’ve no idea how to explain today.
As Si put it, it was a game of two halves.
So now I don’t have to explain it, because he’s done it for me.
It’s easy to forget things sometimes. Like the fact that things often turn out well.
Our logos turned up. So the van looks the way it deserves to look after the amount that it has done for us, what with running three computers, four speakers, an amp and a projector from it’s battery for the last five days.
This late afternoon we went to a party on a boat that was moored in Cannes, attempted to project on the pier and for the first time got moved on. So Andy moved the van and then we went back to the party. We screened a lot of films to a lot of people. We had our biggest crowd yet. Giving out free (warm continental) beer to anyone watching probably helped. At one point we accumilated a head count of thirty-odd people in the audience. Which was very satisfying. Then a middle aged French woman passed out whilst watching the films, vomited everywhere, an ambulance was called and then four policemen asked for my papers and searched me for trying to film it whilst laughing at the same time. I stand by it being quite funny.
After that the vibe and crowd kind of died down a bit. Which is fair enough.
So we took the coastal road out of Cannes and went to stand on the beach and contemplate things.
The sea is bloody odd. It’s huge. And alive. I am prone to forgetting that until I stand and look at it. It was past midnight by the point we reached it, and the sky out to sea was black. Utter darkness. Andy and Si stood and talked about all the things that this trip had brought to mind and I occasionally said something like “I agree” or some other thing equally as mundane. The ocean had my attention.
The sea swallows things. Like people. They vanish into it. Undercurrents and that.
The French Riveira allows for one to see the sea-bed through the water for as far as the eyes in question will allow. Even at night, it is possible to follow the sand trails out, though being night, they swiftly disperse into utter obscurity. The ocean really is endless. People underestimate it. Perhaps because we are not aquatic. Really though, seeing as people inhabit one third of the earth and the other two thirds are submerged, it would be silly to be surprised by the things that the sea is capable of throwing at you. And yet I still find it suprising whenever I look at it.
Cannes is filled with vast amounts of glitz, glam and now the van. The potential, art, money, film and style that the dudes and ladies in the streets and convoys project is all very impressive. But it doesn’t really come anywhere close to being on par with the truth in saying that none of it is any use to man or beast underwater. It is of use in one third of the planets ratio, and even then you have to be inclined to give a shit.
The other two thirds, they do things like stir the mind, house fish (who probably don’t like film that much anyway) and on occasion try to disapear passing swimmers.
I have been running through Okinawan drills for a couple of hours in some attempt to chill the mind and take a step back from it all. It has sort of worked.
There are a lot of good people out there who don’t deserve the things that happen to them. So hey, this is age old news but it still has relevence. These people spend a lot of time being resigned to life as it occurs, going unheard. Unheard is never good.
I’m happy that some of the films that we are putting out of the back of the van that is Cannes in a Van allow for people to take that step back from their day.
Even if it be for the duration of a short film.
They come, they sit, they watch. They listen to someones story and by all logic, the story came from somewhere.
Then they get up and wander off. In an enviroment as ludicrous as the biggest film festival in the world, that’s probably no bad thing.
Like Si said, “a game of two halves”.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
20th May 2007, 17:23pm
Just watched some more films that we are screening later on tonight. The vast majority of the films that we have are great. It’s weird how people receive films. Tastes. This whole thing is one of the most accurate tests of that. When the back of the van is packed(ish), it’s a good film. When people cross the street to come and check it out, it’s obviously an interesting film.
There are way too many mundane films being made. Luckily for us we don’t screen them.
Is a film still a good film if no one watches it?
... 20:08pm
The three of us are sat outside a McDonalds using the WiFi.
I have noticed that the tarmac has the words 'McParking' painted onto it.
Jeez.
It's cool...
we're out of here in a moment to show more films to the unsuspecting public.
There are way too many mundane films being made. Luckily for us we don’t screen them.
Is a film still a good film if no one watches it?
... 20:08pm
The three of us are sat outside a McDonalds using the WiFi.
I have noticed that the tarmac has the words 'McParking' painted onto it.
Jeez.
It's cool...
we're out of here in a moment to show more films to the unsuspecting public.
20th May 2007, 16:37
Have been without net for a bit. Connection here rubbish.
France is one of the first countries to have moved into a new special and super speedy internet connection and yet I see no sign of it.
Last night was our first proper total utter glorious success. We didn’t cock anything up. Nothing broke. A fairly large crowd emerged. People sat down and watched.
More clapping from the general public.
Right now Si is outside cutting up flyers in the sun. Andy is inside opposite me, tempting fate and wiring up a Playstation2 to the whole deal, so as to allow for another disk drive. This would allow us to cut down on the time it takes for us to shift from film to film inside the van. In aspiration of making the whole thing as seamless as possible.
Hopefully it will work. Time will tell.
Yesterday was fast paced as hell. I had the pleasure of playing a fine selection of punk very loudly (really, don’t underestimate the sound system) at people who looked a bit serious, which was total joy. The Culture show came down to film us. We will be on the telebox on Saturday. Their crew were lovely. I think they know how good they are. Which is fair enough. We were also interviewed by someone from the Times Online. Who asked me a question that I jibbered some shit out to, and Andy quite usefully saved it and gave a good stern answer.
Which was better than “umm”, which is a word I seem to specialise in.
I have not had much chance to train out here, karate and all that jazz, but I was talking to Si about it as a subject earlier and I am under the impression that he believes that I would loose in a fight to Big Daddy, whoever he may be. This is probably a fair statement, seeing as the dude is called Big Daddy, which being the most disturbing of names, probably makes him as dangerous as AIDS on a stormy night.
Anyway, enough of that. May the 36th Chamber protect me.
Si also managed to get us invited to a boat party. The party is on Monday night.
On a boat that “we can’t miss” if we go looking for it.
So says the Partner of a film financing company who invited us.
There is a lot of money here.
People may as well just staple dollars to their head and walk around.
The sign of the mega-rich? Ferrets. Watch day two of the video diary.
France is one of the first countries to have moved into a new special and super speedy internet connection and yet I see no sign of it.
Last night was our first proper total utter glorious success. We didn’t cock anything up. Nothing broke. A fairly large crowd emerged. People sat down and watched.
More clapping from the general public.
Right now Si is outside cutting up flyers in the sun. Andy is inside opposite me, tempting fate and wiring up a Playstation2 to the whole deal, so as to allow for another disk drive. This would allow us to cut down on the time it takes for us to shift from film to film inside the van. In aspiration of making the whole thing as seamless as possible.
Hopefully it will work. Time will tell.
Yesterday was fast paced as hell. I had the pleasure of playing a fine selection of punk very loudly (really, don’t underestimate the sound system) at people who looked a bit serious, which was total joy. The Culture show came down to film us. We will be on the telebox on Saturday. Their crew were lovely. I think they know how good they are. Which is fair enough. We were also interviewed by someone from the Times Online. Who asked me a question that I jibbered some shit out to, and Andy quite usefully saved it and gave a good stern answer.
Which was better than “umm”, which is a word I seem to specialise in.
I have not had much chance to train out here, karate and all that jazz, but I was talking to Si about it as a subject earlier and I am under the impression that he believes that I would loose in a fight to Big Daddy, whoever he may be. This is probably a fair statement, seeing as the dude is called Big Daddy, which being the most disturbing of names, probably makes him as dangerous as AIDS on a stormy night.
Anyway, enough of that. May the 36th Chamber protect me.
Si also managed to get us invited to a boat party. The party is on Monday night.
On a boat that “we can’t miss” if we go looking for it.
So says the Partner of a film financing company who invited us.
There is a lot of money here.
People may as well just staple dollars to their head and walk around.
The sign of the mega-rich? Ferrets. Watch day two of the video diary.
19th May 2007, 13:00pm
Yesterday evening.
Cannes in a Van reaped Cannes. Then we went to a street party, of sorts.
The police continued to completely dig our stuff
(though they may not be the target audience).
People came down. They watched. They clapped. Important looking guys took flyers.
It was, once again, a complete success.
It continues to be a success. The women here are not all ugly.
Andy and I nearly had an aneurism when we pulled up on the Croisette (which I realised is not spent with a Q) due to a four hour equipment check earlier in the day where everything was great seemingly not helping at all. We parked, banged on A Brief But Triumphant Intermission by Against Me (excellent band) to set up to, and then we suddenly had no sound. Luckily it came down the fact that we hadn’t turned it on.
I know, it doesn’t make sense, but what can you do.
There is an obscene amount of neon in Cannes. Everywhere. It’s quite good.
Apparently we went out on TV last night, and it was not too horrific. Which is also quite good. It hit us that being somewhere so far from London with no television is the best way to be when that kind of thing happens.
It’s too hot to write, there is someone playing a trumpet, badly next door to us and the campsite in which we are staying has a swimming pool.
Which is not hot, or next door to the same tune sixteen times played rather indecisively.
Right. Swimming pool.
Can’t write and swim, because I’d probably kill everyone in the pool with some narly electric surge. Too bad.
Cannes in a Van reaped Cannes. Then we went to a street party, of sorts.
The police continued to completely dig our stuff
(though they may not be the target audience).
People came down. They watched. They clapped. Important looking guys took flyers.
It was, once again, a complete success.
It continues to be a success. The women here are not all ugly.
Andy and I nearly had an aneurism when we pulled up on the Croisette (which I realised is not spent with a Q) due to a four hour equipment check earlier in the day where everything was great seemingly not helping at all. We parked, banged on A Brief But Triumphant Intermission by Against Me (excellent band) to set up to, and then we suddenly had no sound. Luckily it came down the fact that we hadn’t turned it on.
I know, it doesn’t make sense, but what can you do.
There is an obscene amount of neon in Cannes. Everywhere. It’s quite good.
Apparently we went out on TV last night, and it was not too horrific. Which is also quite good. It hit us that being somewhere so far from London with no television is the best way to be when that kind of thing happens.
It’s too hot to write, there is someone playing a trumpet, badly next door to us and the campsite in which we are staying has a swimming pool.
Which is not hot, or next door to the same tune sixteen times played rather indecisively.
Right. Swimming pool.
Can’t write and swim, because I’d probably kill everyone in the pool with some narly electric surge. Too bad.
Friday, May 18, 2007
...can't think of a title. Brain is hot by sun.
There are a few typing errors around the place in the last three postings, but I can't work out how to change them, because as I mentioned before, my computer has gone all a bit French. Bloody interweb.
Please ignore them and guess at the words.
Dress up as you do it and make a game of it.
You should probably start with paper hats.
15:30, 18th May, 2007
So we are here.
Actually.
Updating this blog is seriously hard, seeing as I don’t speak, or read French and for some reason all of the uploading stuff has turned all French. Argh.
We arrived two days ago. In the dead of night, or early morning. At our campsite. And made a total fucking ruckus of a noise.
It was pretty funny.
Cannes has come to us and we have come to Cannes.
We are not lost (which is good), because we spent a lot of time being very, very lost.
We still have no logo for the van but hey, last night we hit up the Quasette and showed the films tat we be packing.
In the middle of the street.
We tried it earlier on, on a side road and there were major technical hitches. The moral of the story is probably don’t do anything low-fi. If you’re going to do something this stupid, do it loudly.
Last night we had London Tonight following us around. We are the show tonight at 18:15pm. TV people are pretty odd, though quite sound.
As I just said, last night we screened things, people loved it, damn, even the police loved it. Everyone loved it. People actually stopped all their official crap and watched.
I have never been to L.A., or Hollywood, but I imagine that this is a hell of a lot cooler.
There were many ubiquitous celebrity folk around the place. Mostly looking smug.
Amongst other things, the highlights so far have to be:
i) getting here alive
ii) stuff only slightly going really wrong
iii) A helicopter took off from a yacht. Which is pretty cool,.
iv) a hoard of people taking flyers, reading them and asking things like “What?” or “Que?” and seeming interested by the bloody great yellow van blaring out films over the road
v) the fact that you can buy pizza on the campsite
Andy and I (mostly Andy) have spent the morning editing
the video footage that I have been shooting on the DV for the diary. The first posting is up. Which is cool.
So go and watch the footage.
.
The mountains here leave me wanting not to return to London.
I have that problem with mountains.
So far I have to say that its been a success. All of it.
All two days of it to date.
Even the bits that didn’t work.
Fuckin’ aye.
Actually.
Updating this blog is seriously hard, seeing as I don’t speak, or read French and for some reason all of the uploading stuff has turned all French. Argh.
We arrived two days ago. In the dead of night, or early morning. At our campsite. And made a total fucking ruckus of a noise.
It was pretty funny.
Cannes has come to us and we have come to Cannes.
We are not lost (which is good), because we spent a lot of time being very, very lost.
We still have no logo for the van but hey, last night we hit up the Quasette and showed the films tat we be packing.
In the middle of the street.
We tried it earlier on, on a side road and there were major technical hitches. The moral of the story is probably don’t do anything low-fi. If you’re going to do something this stupid, do it loudly.
Last night we had London Tonight following us around. We are the show tonight at 18:15pm. TV people are pretty odd, though quite sound.
As I just said, last night we screened things, people loved it, damn, even the police loved it. Everyone loved it. People actually stopped all their official crap and watched.
I have never been to L.A., or Hollywood, but I imagine that this is a hell of a lot cooler.
There were many ubiquitous celebrity folk around the place. Mostly looking smug.
Amongst other things, the highlights so far have to be:
i) getting here alive
ii) stuff only slightly going really wrong
iii) A helicopter took off from a yacht. Which is pretty cool,.
iv) a hoard of people taking flyers, reading them and asking things like “What?” or “Que?” and seeming interested by the bloody great yellow van blaring out films over the road
v) the fact that you can buy pizza on the campsite
Andy and I (mostly Andy) have spent the morning editing
the video footage that I have been shooting on the DV for the diary. The first posting is up. Which is cool.
So go and watch the footage.
.
The mountains here leave me wanting not to return to London.
I have that problem with mountains.
So far I have to say that its been a success. All of it.
All two days of it to date.
Even the bits that didn’t work.
Fuckin’ aye.
16th MAY, 19:46pm, 200 hundred kilometres from Marseilles (or anywhere sensible)
16th MAY, 19:46pm, 200 hundred kilometres from Marseilles (or anywhere sensible)
Some hours have passed since the last time hours had passed.
We are somewhere not in Cannes, but we are much closer than we were.
Andy is currently on the telephone to Radio4 about all that we are doing and why we are doing it. It is going out on air later tonight. It’s still raining.
Si has been driving for the last few (many) hours and is doing a rather good job of not crashing. I can’t drive, so I respect this.
The direction in which this is going, is South. The roads are blocked for the moment. Rush hour. I would tell you where we are in France, but I have no sense of direction so I couldn’t possibly do that.
Sharon the film maker managed to blow a wheel on her car earlier this morning, so she is someplace far from us right now. So we are not miked up and bugged.
Which is nice.
Her film will be interesting I think.
Right now we (Si and Andy) are doing quite great team work (the radio interview is over) in getting us out of a car park somewhere where the world is very green with long strips of tarmac. Roads and that.
The send off the other night was great. Despite the chronic fuck-ups in setting up for the grand unveiling, it all turned out quite well. Though upon leaving and turning a corner we ran over a bollard somewhere towards Piccadilly.
The bollard lost, the van is hard.
It has just been stated that we shall be driving hard to hit up Cannes by midnight.
Most excellent.
Check out the video blog for today. It’s quite good.
Basically, not a lot has happened since the last time I wrote something. That said, we are a hell of a lot closer to where we’re meant to be than we were twelve hours ago.
We just found hills on the horizon (well, some other people probably found them before us, but we’ve not seen them before so now they’re ours).
There is sun above these hills. And it has stopped raining.
And as I wrote that it has started raining again. Still, the clouds are hardcore;
it is quite a stunning sight.
We are picking up speed. French radio is appalling.
Apparently “We are going to arrive in darkness”.
The place we are staying is a road up from the beach; the ocean rules at night.
Tonight we will be on that beach.
So I say we will arrive in total fucking glory. And Cannes will be ours, for a bi
Some hours have passed since the last time hours had passed.
We are somewhere not in Cannes, but we are much closer than we were.
Andy is currently on the telephone to Radio4 about all that we are doing and why we are doing it. It is going out on air later tonight. It’s still raining.
Si has been driving for the last few (many) hours and is doing a rather good job of not crashing. I can’t drive, so I respect this.
The direction in which this is going, is South. The roads are blocked for the moment. Rush hour. I would tell you where we are in France, but I have no sense of direction so I couldn’t possibly do that.
Sharon the film maker managed to blow a wheel on her car earlier this morning, so she is someplace far from us right now. So we are not miked up and bugged.
Which is nice.
Her film will be interesting I think.
Right now we (Si and Andy) are doing quite great team work (the radio interview is over) in getting us out of a car park somewhere where the world is very green with long strips of tarmac. Roads and that.
The send off the other night was great. Despite the chronic fuck-ups in setting up for the grand unveiling, it all turned out quite well. Though upon leaving and turning a corner we ran over a bollard somewhere towards Piccadilly.
The bollard lost, the van is hard.
It has just been stated that we shall be driving hard to hit up Cannes by midnight.
Most excellent.
Check out the video blog for today. It’s quite good.
Basically, not a lot has happened since the last time I wrote something. That said, we are a hell of a lot closer to where we’re meant to be than we were twelve hours ago.
We just found hills on the horizon (well, some other people probably found them before us, but we’ve not seen them before so now they’re ours).
There is sun above these hills. And it has stopped raining.
And as I wrote that it has started raining again. Still, the clouds are hardcore;
it is quite a stunning sight.
We are picking up speed. French radio is appalling.
Apparently “We are going to arrive in darkness”.
The place we are staying is a road up from the beach; the ocean rules at night.
Tonight we will be on that beach.
So I say we will arrive in total fucking glory. And Cannes will be ours, for a bi
16th MAY, 05:14am (French time)
Cannes in a Van is on the road.
In FRANCE.
It’s bloody exciting and as Andy just pointed out the sky is coming up on the horizon.
The send off in Soho went well, sort of.
The sound system blew up. It fused. In the most wrong of ways.
Then a bunch of other crap happened that is so dull it’s not really worth going into, but suffice to say, fate seemed out to maim us in the head.
We are in a van. Our van, Somewhere outside Lome, and thirty six miles from some other place. A long way from Cannes.
We’ll get to Cannes. And as Andy also just pointed out, we’ll get there on a beautiful hot evening and it will all be joyous.
Today we met some people who like what we’re doing. They came to Soho to say hello to us, and tell us that they will be in Cannes. Which was polite.
The road is bendy. More tomorrow I guess. Blues (Howlin’ Wolf) in a van at this hour is good. The traffic is pickling up, the neon of the street lights is smashing off of the keyboard. It makes typing really hard.
Deftones on now. Gonna go watch the road pass under.
In FRANCE.
It’s bloody exciting and as Andy just pointed out the sky is coming up on the horizon.
The send off in Soho went well, sort of.
The sound system blew up. It fused. In the most wrong of ways.
Then a bunch of other crap happened that is so dull it’s not really worth going into, but suffice to say, fate seemed out to maim us in the head.
We are in a van. Our van, Somewhere outside Lome, and thirty six miles from some other place. A long way from Cannes.
We’ll get to Cannes. And as Andy also just pointed out, we’ll get there on a beautiful hot evening and it will all be joyous.
Today we met some people who like what we’re doing. They came to Soho to say hello to us, and tell us that they will be in Cannes. Which was polite.
The road is bendy. More tomorrow I guess. Blues (Howlin’ Wolf) in a van at this hour is good. The traffic is pickling up, the neon of the street lights is smashing off of the keyboard. It makes typing really hard.
Deftones on now. Gonna go watch the road pass under.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Jacques Bauer
I am now taking bets on whether this man is a fan of the Indy film scene
Less than 48hours to go and the Festival is looming like the Death Star.
Yesterday involved a lot of van-out-decking. Paint, curtains (obviously), turpentine in the finger nails, all that jazz. Plus a piece in the Sunday Times.
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/film/article1777412.ece
See, not lying.
Sharon Ward, the nice, loud (it's a good thing, she'll draw attention to us) woman who is making a documentary about Cannes in a Van and travelling down to the French Riviera with us, camera-and-assistant in-tow, did some filming and it was all a bit of a productive day.
The camera is freaking me out, but I’ll get over it.
So now I guess the blog (hopefully) ceases the rambling, and goes Diary.
So without further procrastinating…
14th May 2007, A DAY AND A HALF TO GO.
Arrgh.
Tomorrow is the leaving-for-Cannes send off in Soho.
Otherwise known as a party.
The van is a variety of truly lovely looking colours
(yellow, green and orange, HELL YES!)
Hopefully the Gendarmerie Nationale will like our van a lot; it is possible that the colour combination alone will be enough to sway them towards our cause.
The Gendarmerie are outside the jurisdiction of the French National Police.
I don’t know what that means but it doesn’t sound good.
I am also aware that they have an elite counter-terrorism and hostage rescue unit.
A bit like a French Jack Bauer. Jacques Bauer for instance.
Also, they have a parachute squadron and a hoard of mobile armoured units, some with 90mm cannons. Our transit does not have cannons. However, I very much doubt that they have a projector and a bunch of kickass films. So if it comes down to it, clearly, we’ll win.
It is now wise to consider that the motif of the Gendarmerie is a grenade. Word.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
huang and feng
We have a van.
We thought we had one before, but then it fell through. Ah well.
Last weekend was spent looking for a long wheel base high top transit or something of the sort. We had no joy. We also had some potential sponsors, who bailed out, who shall remain nameless.
It’s all been a bit of a close call.
Now we have one and everything is all good. Apparently it used to belong to a woman who sold flowers. Which is quite excellent. Tomorrow it shall be painted and decked out with joyous things. Like red carpet and bean bags. It will be the best van at Cannes, ‘swear to god.
The whole thing seems to be coming together. I keep saying this, but I really mean it this time. The utmost respect goes out to Andy for the amount of work he has put into making this happen, and to Si for his ever calm and always logical suggestions. Their idea is truly forming into something brilliant. The three of us, as well as some documentary-making woman who seems to dig the idea so much that she’s shooting the whole thing, are heading off next weekend.
A few of my posts placed on this site in the past have been ridiculous. I re-read them today and just thought Jaysusfuck if I were not me I would slap myself for parts of them. It’s hard to slap yourself. So apologies to the reading public for that’n.
I stand by the New York one though. That hobo was cool.
This morning I spoke to someone who I have not had anything to do with in a long while, and since having nothing to do with them, many weird things have occurred. The last twelve months have been really a bit odd, with parts of it verging on the David Lynch. There has been a lot of Sliding Doors in there as well. This Cannes idea is something that I really have a lot of time for, kind of just because it is Real, with a capital R. It’s really easy to stop having time for things and people, and that is never good. You end up interacting with others as something that is two thousand miles from who you are.
It makes people feel confused. Confused is never a good place to be.
Feng Huang is a compound term in Chinese. It means Phoenix. Feng is a male phoenix, whilst Huang is the female phoenix. Together they depict Yin and Yang, or perfect harmony, but separately they are very different things. The phoenix found in Chinese and in turn, Japanese mythology is not the loner bird that rises from the ashes in a ball of fire, it is something different altogether.
The image of the traditional phoenix carries many interesting connotations. It is a symbol of grace and beauty, an animal that appears in calm and tranquil times, but hides when there is danger near. It was the symbol of the Empress of the Chinese imperial household.
The Huang represents the sun, justice, obedience, and fidelity and has done so for over seven thousand years.
She is the guardian of the South on the compass. The turtle is the guardian of the North, whilst the white tiger is that of the West. They are all balanced by the dragon, known as Loong in Chinese, who is guardian of the eastern point. The turtle is the messenger of the dragon and the tiger his mortal enemy.
The huang has often been depicted throughout history in synchronicity or war with the loong. The dragon and the phoenix, always as blissful and passionate lovers, or as the most mortal of enemies. The dragon is also the deity of rain.
The tale of the dragon and the phoenix is a truly ancient one. The white tiger depicts grace and wrath, whilst the dragon carries the traits of raw power, almost anger, and emotion. The huang is always between them.
When the dragon looses the phoenix, he is alone, raw and moves with complete apathy towards the idea of the destruction of others or himself. He will challenge anyone, and strike to bring suffering in the name of sadism. Meanwhile the huang hides. With the phoenix in flight, the Loong is at peace, embracing his equal.
It is a never ending cycle of love and war between the two, but whilst the war is over they both soar. I'm not sure where this is going.
Hopefully to a place where it rains in the sunshine.
Go ridiculous writing.
We thought we had one before, but then it fell through. Ah well.
Last weekend was spent looking for a long wheel base high top transit or something of the sort. We had no joy. We also had some potential sponsors, who bailed out, who shall remain nameless.
It’s all been a bit of a close call.
Now we have one and everything is all good. Apparently it used to belong to a woman who sold flowers. Which is quite excellent. Tomorrow it shall be painted and decked out with joyous things. Like red carpet and bean bags. It will be the best van at Cannes, ‘swear to god.
The whole thing seems to be coming together. I keep saying this, but I really mean it this time. The utmost respect goes out to Andy for the amount of work he has put into making this happen, and to Si for his ever calm and always logical suggestions. Their idea is truly forming into something brilliant. The three of us, as well as some documentary-making woman who seems to dig the idea so much that she’s shooting the whole thing, are heading off next weekend.
A few of my posts placed on this site in the past have been ridiculous. I re-read them today and just thought Jaysusfuck if I were not me I would slap myself for parts of them. It’s hard to slap yourself. So apologies to the reading public for that’n.
I stand by the New York one though. That hobo was cool.
This morning I spoke to someone who I have not had anything to do with in a long while, and since having nothing to do with them, many weird things have occurred. The last twelve months have been really a bit odd, with parts of it verging on the David Lynch. There has been a lot of Sliding Doors in there as well. This Cannes idea is something that I really have a lot of time for, kind of just because it is Real, with a capital R. It’s really easy to stop having time for things and people, and that is never good. You end up interacting with others as something that is two thousand miles from who you are.
It makes people feel confused. Confused is never a good place to be.
Feng Huang is a compound term in Chinese. It means Phoenix. Feng is a male phoenix, whilst Huang is the female phoenix. Together they depict Yin and Yang, or perfect harmony, but separately they are very different things. The phoenix found in Chinese and in turn, Japanese mythology is not the loner bird that rises from the ashes in a ball of fire, it is something different altogether.
The image of the traditional phoenix carries many interesting connotations. It is a symbol of grace and beauty, an animal that appears in calm and tranquil times, but hides when there is danger near. It was the symbol of the Empress of the Chinese imperial household.
The Huang represents the sun, justice, obedience, and fidelity and has done so for over seven thousand years.
She is the guardian of the South on the compass. The turtle is the guardian of the North, whilst the white tiger is that of the West. They are all balanced by the dragon, known as Loong in Chinese, who is guardian of the eastern point. The turtle is the messenger of the dragon and the tiger his mortal enemy.
The huang has often been depicted throughout history in synchronicity or war with the loong. The dragon and the phoenix, always as blissful and passionate lovers, or as the most mortal of enemies. The dragon is also the deity of rain.
The tale of the dragon and the phoenix is a truly ancient one. The white tiger depicts grace and wrath, whilst the dragon carries the traits of raw power, almost anger, and emotion. The huang is always between them.
When the dragon looses the phoenix, he is alone, raw and moves with complete apathy towards the idea of the destruction of others or himself. He will challenge anyone, and strike to bring suffering in the name of sadism. Meanwhile the huang hides. With the phoenix in flight, the Loong is at peace, embracing his equal.
It is a never ending cycle of love and war between the two, but whilst the war is over they both soar. I'm not sure where this is going.
Hopefully to a place where it rains in the sunshine.
Go ridiculous writing.
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