top of page

Documentary Filmmaking in the Midst of Moral Panic


DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2020.06 | Issue 3 | April 2020

Phoebe Hart

Queensland University of Technology


Abstract


In 2017, Australia was subjected to a costly and divisive same sex plebiscite, precipitating a time of moral panic according to many social commentators. This article examines responses ethically, aesthetically and, moreover, lovingly to homophobia, misogyny and hate in documentary filmmaking creative practice, citing the author’s own emergent collaborative work, a semi-autobiographical documentary film titled Handbag: The Untold Story of the Fag Hag, a love letter of sorts. Specifically, I ask how affective interventions on screen can change hearts and minds, and concludes that empowered and embodied interactions and engagements with audiences are sites of transformative potential.


Introduction


‘Love and creativity come from the same place’ (van der Post, 2002).

In 2017, the Australian electorate was subjected to a ‘costly and divisive’ postal survey in order to determine whether the law should be changed so that people of the same sex could marry (Tomazin, 2017). While the postal vote returned an overwhelming ‘Yes’ to the proposition (ABC News) and led to greater marriage equality in Australia (Chang, 2017), the LGBTI community at large found the process discriminatory and inflammatory (Law, 2017). The vote became an ideological battleground in which conservative politicians used words to rail against ‘political correctness’ (Editor, 2017) and many supporters of the ‘Yes’ campaign came under direct physical attack from right-wingers (Davey, 2017).


At the same time, I was producing a screen intervention as part of an all-female production team, emerging partly out of professional practice and partly out of the academy, whereby the text adopts a ‘stronger critical research focus and often mirrors the distinct vision of a single writer-researcher’ (Baker, 2013: 4). The work, an autobiographical documentary film titled Handbag: The Untold Story of the Fag Hag (henceforth Handbag), is a love letter of sorts which attempts to value straight-gay alliances, sustaining friendship and the role of women in the struggle for equality. The narrative arc of the film follows that of the director/writer Monica Davidson, who sets out to understand why she – and indeed many generations of women in her family – has been such a magnet to gay men throughout her life. Monica’s journey of discovery takes her around Australia and abroad to the USA, where she discerns a distinct lack of pride felt by many women. With the help of her family and friends, Monica determines to reinvent the label and make it a celebration by creating a float for the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras parade, the first in the event’s long history. For the purposes of this article, the term ‘fag hag’, which is undoubtedly pejorative, is defined as a straight woman who enjoys the companionship of gay men (Moon, 1995) and is replaced, where appropriate, by the term ‘handbag’. The full trailer for the film can be watched below.



As Yes and No campaigners rallied, our creative project was deep in the throes of crowdfunding for the final stage of post-production, and therefore was attempting to enter into the public sphere via social media and publicity (Hart, 2018). As part of this foray, the above-the-line creative team implemented a number of engaging vlogs and posts as part of the campaign in the vein of behind-the-scenes ‘sneak peeks’. These affective missives formed part of the greater transmedia storytelling around the core property (Jenkins, 2010). However, some moments captured during this campaign have since found their way into the final cut, which is marked by a certain (and increasingly prevalent) hybridity of screen documentary form (Powers, 2004).


In this article, I examine potential ethical and aesthetic screen-based responses to homophobia and misogyny, and ask how affective interventions can fight shame and discrimination through screen production. It is not an easy process, staying loving; love and hate are intertwining emotions and even the gentlest lover can be turned to rage. Some may express anger when their passions are sublimated or injustice perceived, but this destructive power may in fact lead to further creativity (Crowley, 1999). Kristeva (1987: 5) noted love makes for a ‘sorrowful pleasure’. Even writing in this form about ‘the intrinsically subjective dimension of artistic production’ presents an enormous challenge (Barrett, 2008) but, a heartfelt approach in any creative undertaking, including the making of a screen documentary, may be potentially transformative for all involved – subjects, makers and viewers.

Love and Creativity


The connection between love and creativity might seem like the stuff of Sufi mystics and inspirational posters and memes. Yet the idea of love(-making) and creativity as one and the same may serve as a constructive metaphor for the act of working as an empowered and aware practitioner in the field of creative arts. Cognitive theories on creativity are often linked to innovation, invariably due to the economic benefits of a workforce more able to solve problems (Runco, 2007: 14). As such, creativity has been described ‘variously as an act, a process, a concept, a strategy or even as an ideological tactic’ (Steers, 2009 128). However, Psychiatrist Susan Kavaler-Adler asserted that the psychological state of love and creativity are inexorably linked, forming a dialectic whereby one may go inwards to explore notions of love relations and intimacy and ‘into the state of imagination that is the essence of creativity, a state of vision within the mind, which is removed from touching and doing in external reality’ (2014: 16). Connectedness to one’s own state of imagination is an indicator of good psychic health.

In an act of aberactive catharsis (Csikszentmihalyi, in Runco, 2007: 14-15) or the revival of the dramatic events of one’s past, the Handbag project grew out of the director’s need to express a cyclic experience of deep connectedness and subsequent trauma around significant interpersonal relationships in childhood. The director, Monica Davidson, grew up in a single-parent family, having lost her father at an early age, and remembers fondly the gay men who filled an important role in her development. In many ways, these men became part of Monica’s ‘logical’ family, if not her biological family (Maupin and Koval, 2007). Davidson simultaneously recalls the trauma of homophobic comments from school friends, the personal impact of the HIV AIDS epidemic and loss of a close gay male friend to depression and suicide. Handbag provides a creative outlet to lovingly recuperate lived experience here and now in the flesh and on the screen.

Embodiment ‘through the camera-eye’ is an act of identity politics and suggests that loving interactions on screen occur and are read in larger arenas (Chanan, 2007: 246). Whereas once homosexuality could only be subtly inferred in mainstream cinema texts, there now exists a proliferation of films made by and for sexual and gender-diverse individuals (Benshoff and Griffin, 2004: 1). Similarly, feminists ‘have thought long and hard about the politics of people filming people’ (Walker and Waldman, 1999: 13). Moreover, women filmmakers working in the field of autobiographical documentary disclose ‘the striking … positions that women occupy in modern society’ (Lane, 2002: 190). Feminist phenomenology provides the best framework for philosophical investigation of the creative reconstituting of the lived experience of women and gay men (Fisher, 2011: 91).


Kerrigan, inspired by Csikszentmihalyi’s systems approach to creativity, argued that the creative documentary originates somewhere between the personal realm and social/cultural influences, and ‘is a systemic and iterative process that can be internalised by an agent [read: individual] who is conditioned through creative practices’ (2013: 124). The documentary is the love child of these factors, raised by those who choose to enter the parenting arrangement, who, through facing the rigours of creative practice, getting better and strong to the challenges love presents (that is, hate). As a result, films like Handbag, which is shot entirely on digital formats and often in the intimate setting of the subjects’ homes, alter audience expectations of what a documentary is. For us, the creation of one’s own embodied, gendered identity is ‘influenced specifically by the people and contexts of interaction in which we participate’ (Fivush and Buckner, 2003: 164).


Agnés Varda’s semi-autobiographical documentary The Gleaners and I is an example of embodied filmmaking. The Gleaners and I is a lyrical and visually arresting film about people who choose to pick over society’s waste to find food, shelter, clothing, inspiration or even fun. Varda, who, as a filmmaker, is a gleaner of sorts, draws extensively on the visual power of the reflection, as she passes comment on her own aging body by juxtaposing self-portraits against a discarded clock with no hands (in effect, halting time), and using a mirror to study her maturing face. Rutherford (2003) notes that ‘all spectatorship is potentially affective’ and describes the affective experience contained within this inspiring documentary:

‘Ethics, the legal code, self-scrutiny and parody all jostle for position with the sweet taste of a ripened fig, the beauty of afternoon light in an apple orchard and the experience of old age …. [In The Gleaners and I] there is no implicit hierarchy here between image and word, no phobia of the image or its potential indeterminacy – the full capacity of the sound and image is put into play, and with it the affective experience of the spectator’ (129).

Kate Ince discerns in The Gleaners and I, ‘a performance of feminist phenomenology deriving from her woman-subject's desire, experience, and vision’ (Franz, Lindquist and Bitner, 2011: 613). Ince draws upon Young’s seminal work on feminine embodied experience, Throwing Like a Girl , stating that Varda’s work ‘privilege[s] female subjectivity and embodiment at the expense of representing as a cultural construct, either in the narratives or the material structure of her film-texts’ (ibid: 613). Handbag seeks to privilege feminine subjectivity, to tell our stories and, via affective sound and imagery, demonstrate our bodily experiences, our thoughts and feelings, and our outlooks, loves and longings.

Inspired by Varda, I first attempted to create an affective on-screen experience in an earlier autobiographical documentary I made called Orchids: My Intersex Adventure (henceforth Orchids). Orchids charts my experience of having a biological intersex variation, whereby reproductive organs are at variance with the genetic sex, and the negative impacts of social stigma medical intervention. Orchids attempts to create ruptures through artistic manipulation of the sound and image. Montages of bright, day-lit sequences of my journeying through picturesque Australian landscapes create affect, as do scenes of my sister Bonnie and I gleaning eccentric country ‘op shops’ in order to find treasured objects. Photographs and personal objects from the characters’ lives are shot and edited to arrest the attention of the viewer, and the rich sexual shapes and textures of the film’s symbol – orchids – are intended to be beautiful and fascinating.

Similarly, Handbag incorporates observational material, intimate narrations, vividly drawn animations, filmed interactions and interviews, interlaced with archival footage and still photographs a glitter-bomb of colour and sound. There is a cheeky nod to queer cultural icons such as Liza Minnelli in a series of re-creations of famous instances of the fag hag on screen, including Cabaret and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. The director-as-presenter and guide to the world of the “handbag” places herself in stylised scenes from the seminal movies she admired growing up and spoke to her experience of having gay men as a constant feature of her life.

The hybrid nature of many documentaries nowadays – that is, the reworking documentaries to include re-enactments, mock-umentary aspects, animation and scripted narratives (see Svetvilas, 2004) – augments the affective potential of our piece. The multiplicity of styles and formats allow filmmakers to push the affective boundaries of the documentary genre directions, as the hybrid film ‘resonates without relying solely on empirical representation’ (Robertson. 2016). Whether such seeming transgressions erode the integrity of other more ‘serious’ documentaries is highly contentious and brings into question the philosophical nature of truth, and the assumed ability of the viewer to discern play from seriousness, image from imagination, and fact from fiction. From my perspective, the product of the playful influence of hybridisation is all the more alluring and satisfying to the viewer, who becomes engaged in the audio-visual game of untangling.


Aside from their seductive powers, hybrid forms may offer comfort to the embattled embodied creative practitioner. In truth, some areas of love, life and creativity are difficult to bear, and escape into the shimmering veil of fantasy offers a much-needed break from the grind of day-to-day reality. The idea that documentary could be used as a therapeutic tool is not new, and, potentially, such texts ‘modify and reconfigure the very nature of therapy and confession as practices for producing social and individual identities and knowledge’ (White, 1992: 7). For us, the aura surrounding our love-in was not one of unicorns and rainbows all of the time. We faced plenty of resistance during the film’s final crowdfunding campaign coinciding with the Australian marriage equality survey, including the destructive spray-painting of a Nazi swastika on houses of our loved ones who displayed rainbow flags and internet trolls stalking the production team’s social media posts. These occurrences were simultaneously saddening and maddening, and I (as producer) and my team attempted to reconfigure these with a series of provocative vlogs, calling out the ‘bad behaviour’ and offering peaceful solutions.

Conflict is the sandpaper used to craft a documentary film which pierces the skin and lands in the heart, and so requires courage and a willingness to take a risk. In one of Monica’s daily vlogs, filmed at night in a pool of street lamplight, she asks viewers to ‘look out for each other’ during the spate of homophobic attacks (Davidson, 2017). These vlogs created an outpouring of support and sharing of experiences even if speaking out could have caused our humble production and its cast and crew to become the focus of malintent. We were determined to exploit the potential impact and social, cultural and political change possibilities available via online technologies and DIY distribution models of contemporary documentary production (McLagan, 2012: 313).


Similarly, in the creative output (or the ‘core property’ which is Handbag itself), we gamely used the conventions and poetics of cinema to fashion an authored impression of the ‘trying times’. By gathering the captured fragments from personal histories and the remembered past, we were able to assemble those glimpses into a representation that approximates the present ‘I’ or oneself in the now. This process of self-inscription required a mapping of certain geographical and temporal spaces, an orienting of the place where one belongs in the world. As makers of Handbag we explored these worlds imaginatively, allowing ‘free capacity to move back and forth between internal psychic life and external reality’ (Kavaler-Adler, 2014: 15). The ability to discover and rediscover familial relationships both real and imagined via the careful use of the video camera and edit suite has a beneficial, therapeutic effect. There is still the very real political, social and cultural promise of the text, as there is a pressing need to change the social and legal systems that discriminate against people who choose to love someone of their own sex. It was our aim to acknowledge the challenges of autobiography and use the experience of making an autobiographical film to assist others, as empowered mentors, particularly the female viewers of the film.


Affective Interventions


Our stated objective of Handbag is to fight shame and discrimination, and address the social and economic disadvantage in the GLBTQ sector (see Hart, 2018). At the time of the Australian marriage equality postal survey, a time of ‘moral panic’, our crowdfunding campaign for Handbag focused on empowering women to become change makers in the face of human rights abuses and the criminalisation of homosexual acts around the world (Fenton. 2018). As women speaking to women, our hope was to subvert discourses ‘owned’ by patriarchal voices (Silverman and Foucault, in Humm, 1997: 41). Yet, it is uncertain how our message might be ‘heard’. Documentary spectatorship is the site of multiple, even conflictual, desires that traverse the presumed barriers between conscious and unconscious processes’ (Renov, 2004: 102-3). Therefore, spectator identification can only ever be understood as ‘shifting, oscillating, inconsistent, and fluid’ (Evans and Gammon, 2004: 217). Under such oscillating conditions and varied theoretical stances, controlling engagement seems near impossible.


In Handbag, we felt a psychological approach of assertive engagement was the best tool with which to create an access point for the multifarious viewer. A part of this approach is the empowered reveal, which represents an invitation to access the feminine gaze. As the tellers of the story of the ‘handbag’ both on-screen and off, we deploy both voiceover narration and intimate pieces-to-camera in order to allow access to deeply personal moments in history. Although such revelations could be interpreted as ‘trite [and] self-serving’ (Whittle, 2005: 124), we attempted to transcend naïve rumination and refused to accept possible ‘narcissistic indulgences’ inherent in autobiography (Lane, 2002: 21). This ‘transcendence’ often relied on revealing an emotional truth that was difficult to share, and therefore impossible to fake. Our goal, in effect, was to create a space between ourselves and others to effect a transformative interaction based upon mutual disclosure and generate a contract with our participants and audience in order to establish a supportive relationship that cherishes openness (Giddens, 1991: 6).


In one scene from the core property, Monica chooses to return to her working-class hometown of Newcastle on the east coast of Australia in order to retrace a significant relationship with gay men in her childhood. Barefoot on the beach, with gulls calling, overlooking the surf and cruising coal tankers, Monica meditates on the pain she felt when her favourite gay uncle Bobby disappeared from her life for many years during her childhood, leading her to believe he had died from complications of HIV AIDS. Here, her heartfelt vulnerability trumps any self-absorption. Likewise, in later scenes, the chaotic crafting element of Monica and her mother Pat (a textile artist and a self-declared ‘handbag’) whilst creating a float for the iconic Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras takes on a sensory quality as the women struggle with body and soul – ripping, cutting, sewing, painting, molding, affixing and gluing – to give physical form to their fondness for their gay friends and family members. Monica openly struggles with self-doubt as the deadline to complete the float looms large, and reflects on her most challenging experience with gay men when she fell in love with her (not-yet-out) best male friend as a young woman and was subsequently rejected. To the strains of Stand by your Man and over-exposed VHS home movie footage, Monica remembers that while heartbroken she was able ‘rise above’ and transmute her romantic attachment into friendship. Both moments, confessional in nature, exhibit vulnerability and invite a shared sense of empathy. Further, they align with our objective to choose love in the fight against shame and discrimination.

As the Australian marriage equality postal survey wrapped up in late 2017 and the results came back from the public overwhelmingly in the positive, we felt like they could sit back and relax for a moment. We celebrated with their friends, delighted they could now get married and share their affection in the plain light of day. However, the reprieve was only fleeting, enough to catch one’s breath and gird one’s loins, as the work of Handbag continued. At the time of writing, the post-production on Handbag is being finalised. This article advocates for affective interventions on screen but as yet it is unknown if our offering will have the impact which we so deliriously desire. It is our hope that Handbag will manifest further transformation via wider distribution and exhibition.


Conclusion


Interviewed some years after the publication of Gender Trouble, philosopher and gender theorist Judith Butler reiterated the value of creating works and acts ‘that challenge our practices of reading, that make us uncertain about how to read, or make us think that we have to renegotiate the way in which we read public signs’ (1996: 122). Her sentiments offer encouragement to us as authors of Handbag, bolstering the deconstructive aims of the project, which were set upon the demystification and destabilisation of assumed knowledge of male-female friendships. That filmmaking has (and always will be) demanding should not discourage documentarians who make their creations ‘from the heart’. As feminist-poet Adrienne Rich (1979: 68) once noted, ‘[a]n honorable human relationship – that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word ‘love’ – is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other. … It is important to do this because in doing so we do justice to our own complexity.’

Explore the website for Handbag, where you can learn more about the project, the team behind it, and watch the documentary in full.


Acknowledgement


This article was first presented at the 2018 Australian Screen Production, Education & Research Association (ASPERA) conference, Melbourne, 27-29 June.


References


  • Anderson, L (2006) 'Building Confidence in Creativity: Mba Students', Marketing Education Review 16(1): 91-96.

  • Barrett, E (2006) "Foucault's 'What Is an Author': Towards a Critical Discourse of Practice as Research", Working Papers in Art and Design 4.

  • Benshoff, H and Griffin, S (eds.) (2004) Queer Cinema: The Film Reader. New York & London: Routledge.

  • Butler, J (1996) A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals, edited by Peter Osborne. London and New York: Routledge.

  • Chanan, M (2007) The Politics of Documentary. London: British Film Institute.

  • Chang, C (2017) "Same-Sex Marriage Is Now Legal in Australia", news.com.au 8 December.

  • Crowley J (1999) Behind the Mask: Destruction and Creativity in Women’s Aggression. Cambridge & London: Harvard University Press.

  • Davey, M (2017) "Rocks Thrown through Windows Amid Spate of Homophobic Attacks", The Guardian 26 September.

  • Davidson, M (2018) "@Kickstarter Diary Day 10 - a Rough Day Today, So We Need to Take Care of Each Other", Handbag Facebook Page. Facebook. 17 August 2018.

  • Editor (2017) "Remember the Power of Words in Postal Plebiscite Debate: Editorial", The Canberra Times 9 August.

  • Evans, Caroline and Gammon, L (2004) "Reviewing Queer Viewing", Queer Cinema: The Film Reader, edited by Harry Benshoff and Sean Griffin. New York: Routledge.

  • Fenton, S (2018) "Lgbt Relationships Are Illegal in 74 Countries, Research Finds", Independent 17 May.

  • Fisher, L (2011) "Gendering Embodied Memory", Time in Feminist Phenomenology, edited by Christina Schues, Dorothea E. Olkowski and Helen A. Fielding. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press.

  • Fivush, R and Buckner J P (2003) "Creating Gender and Identity through Autobiographical Narratives", Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of a Narrative Self: Developmental and Cultural Perspectives, edited by Robyn Fivush and Catherine A. Haden. Mahwah, New Jersey and London: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.

  • Franz, J, Lindquist,M and Bitner G (2011) "Educating for Change: A Case for Pedagogy of Desire in Design Education", DesignEd Asia Conference 2011.

  • Giddens, A (1991) Modernity and Self-Identity: Self and Society in the Late Modern Age. Cambridge: Polity Press.

  • Hart, P (2018) "Documentary Australia Foundation : Handbag: The Untold Story of the Fag Hag", Documentary Australia Foundation 2018. 3 May.

  • Hart, P (2018) "Handbag - the Final Countdown!" Kickstarter.com. 25 April 2018.

  • Humm, M (1997) Feminism and Film. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press.

  • Jenkins, H (2010) "Transmedia Storytelling and Entertainment: An Annotated Syllabus", Continuum 24 (6): 943-58.

  • Kavaler-Adler, S (2014) The Creative Mystique: From Red Shoes Frenzy to Love and Creativity. New York & London: Routledge.

  • Kerrigan, S (2013) "Accommodating Creative Documentary Practice within a Revised Systems Model of Creativity", Journal of Media Practice 14 (2): 111-27.

  • Lane, J (2002) The Autobiographical Documentary in America. Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press.

  • Law, B (2017) "I'm Ambivalent About Marriage. My Rage Is against Discrimination", Good Weekend. 21 September.

  • Maupin, A and Koval, R (2007) "Armistead Maupin: Brisbane Writers' Festival", The Book Show. Australia: ABC Radio National.

  • McLagan, M (2012) "Imagining Impact: Documentary Film and the Production of Political Effects", Sensible Politics: The Visual Culture of Nongovernmental Politics, edited by Meg McLagan and Yates McKee. New York: Zone Books.

  • Moon, D (1995) "Insult and Inclusion: The Term Fag Hag and Gay Male "Community", Social Forces 74 (2): 487-510.

  • News, ABC. (2017) "Results: Same-Sex Marriage Postal Survey." ABC News 15 November.

  • Powers, T (2004) "Redefining the Documentary", International Documentary. June: 16-18.

  • Renov, M (2004) 'The Subject of Documentary', Visible Evidence, edited by Michael Renov, Faye Ginsberg and Jane Gaines. Minnesota & London: University of Minnesota Press.

  • Rich, A (1979) On Lies, Secrets, and Silence: Selected Prose 1966-1978. New York: W. W. Norton & Company.

  • Robertson, Z (2016) "Hybrid Film: Blending Fact and Fiction, and the Act of Memory as Authenticity", Point of View.

  • Runco, M A (2007) Creativity. Burlington, MA.: Elsevier Inc.

  • Rutherford, A (2003) "The Poetics of a Potato: Documentary That Gets under the Skin", Metro Magazine 137: 126-31.

  • Steers, J (2009) "Creativity: Delusions, Realities, Opportunities and Challenges", International Journal of Art & Design Education 28(2): 126-38.

  • Svetvilas, C (2004) "Hybrid Reality: When Documentary and Fiction Merge to Create a Better Truth", International Documentary. June: 20-24.

  • Tomazin, F (2017) "'Costly and Divisive': Same-Sex Marriage Postal Vote Faces Legal Showdown," The Sydney Morning Herald 5 (September).

  • van der Post, L (2002) "Beyond the Sky." The Road Within: True Stories of Transformation and the Soul, edited by James O’Reilly, Sean O’Reilly and Tim O’Reilly. San Francisco: Travellers’ Tales.

  • Walker, J and Waldman, D "Introduction", Feminism and Documentary, edited by Janet Walker and Diane Waldman. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

  • White, M (1992) Tele-Advising: Therapeutic Discourse in American Television. Chapel Hill & London: The University of North Carolina Press.

  • Whittle, S (2005) "Gender Fucking or Fucking Gender?", Queer Theory, edited by Iain Morland and Annabelle Willox. New York: Palgrave Macmillan.

Updated: Oct 20, 2020

DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2020.07 | Issue 3 | April 2020

Ron Herrema

Bath Spa University


Research Statement


I am a composer, musician, and graphic artist who has been writing computer algorithms as part of his artistic practice for the past twenty years. Code as Prosthesis is a concept that has its genesis in my desire to grapple with a seeming paradox within this practice - namely, that ceding control to the agency of an algorithm (i.e. the code) seemed to result in a greater expression of my ‘self’.


The linking of this query to the notion of Prosthesis came while reading Matthew Crawford’s The World Beyond Your Head. At one point Crawford describes the motocross driver’s relation to his motorcycle as a kind of prosthetic - an object and process that enables him to both sense and control the physical domain of racing (2015: 55). It suddenly occurred to me that this concept of prosthesis provided an apt metaphor for understanding the dynamics of making music - not only with traditional, physical means, but also with 'virtual' ones (i.e. with writing code).


When the South West Creative Technology Network awarded me an Automation Fellowship, I had the opportunity to explore this new conceptual framework, relating creative coding to ideas of materiality and embodiment. In addition to Crawford, my exploration was influenced by such authors as N. Katherine Hayles, for her thinking on the Posthuman; Marshall McLuhan, for his discourse on ‘the extensions of man’; and Tim Ingold, for his idea of ‘the textility of making’. I also had many fruitful conversations with other Automation Fellows. One of those was artist Natasha Kidd from Bath Spa University, who encouraged me to disseminate the results of my inquiry in something other than a traditional journal article. The website linked below is my response to her challenge and forms an interactive repository for my ongoing exploration of Code as Prosthesis.




DOI: https://doi.org/10.33008/IJCMR.2020.08 | Issue 3 | April 2020

Nico Meissner

Griffith Film School, Queensland


Abstract


The StoryLab Research Network was a collaborative research project funded by the UK’s Arts and Humanities Research Council. StoryLab is an international film development research network of practice-led researchers from Australia, Malaysia, Ghana, Colombia and the UK. Establishing and utilising an ethnomediaology approach, the project conducted workshops with around 15 emerging independent filmmakers in each of the three developing countries of Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia between June and October 2017, during which each participant developed a screen-based story idea. The underlying question the StoryLab Research Networked sought to explore was: if the digital age has democratised the means of filmmaking and film dissemination, thereby enabling new voices to emerge outside of the dominant Western production centres, then what are the stories filmmakers in emerging economies want to tell and how are these stories reflecting a different perspective on living in an increasingly globalised world?


This article is a report on the research project. It will introduce the StoryLab Research Network and its methodology of ethnomediaology. It will then present an overview of stories developed in the three workshops, demonstrating that these stories have strong personal impulses, discuss local socio-political matters and attempt to challenge the dominance of global and national production centres in the shaping of screen realities. I will end the report with a discussion around the workshops’ impact and future plans of the StoryLab Network. Information on StoryLab can be found at: www.storylabnetwork.com.


Introduction


‘The future of cinematography belongs to a new race of young solitaries who will shoot films by putting their last penny into it and not let themselves be taken in by the material routines of the trade’ (Bresson, 1975: 65).

For the first 120 years of its history, cinema has been dominated by a few, mostly Western, production centres. The digital revolution is challenging this hegemonic paradigm. The means of filmmaking, distribution and exhibition have become more accessible, allowing more individuals and cultures to express themselves through the screen and become part of a more diverse global cinema. An explosion of independent filmmaking across the developing world has helped to establish new voices and filmmaking styles (see Lobato, 2010; Baumgaertel, 2012).


This new diversity of voices is the starting point for the StoryLab Research Network – an international network of practice-led researchers from Australia, Malaysia, Ghana, Colombia and the UK. Establishing and utilising an ethnomediaology approach, the project conducted workshops with around 15 emerging independent filmmakers in each of the three developing countries of Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia between June and October 2017, during which each participant originated a screen-based story idea. The three countries of Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia were chosen because of a professional network that extends from the project leader in the UK, Professor Erik Knudsen, into the leading film schools in all three countries. I, for instance, had a position as Head of the Faculty of Cinematic Arts at Multimedia University in Malaysia at the time of writing the project bid. The three countries represent emerging economies of similar population sizes, along the equator, on three different continents. As an interesting side note, Malaysia and Ghana have gained their independence from Britain in the same year (1957).


Co-investigators in each country advertised the research workshops through relevant professional or educational networks. In my own example of Malaysia, the workshop was advertised through two film festivals (KL Experimental Film, Video and Music Festival; Freedom Film Festival), two professional networks (writers’ and directors’ associations in Malaysia) as well as three personally selected film school graduates. Most participants represented the democratised margins of their respective national film industries. They did not work in the mainstream television industry or for big production houses, but independently from these established production models. As a group, the filmmakers we met represented a wide spectrum of filmmaking in emerging markets on three continents – from seasoned veteran filmmakers to recent graduates, with and without formal film education, working across all genres of film, inside and outside of the main production centres of their countries.

The underlying question the StoryLab Research Network sought to explore was: if the digital age has democratised the means of filmmaking and film dissemination, thereby enabling new voices to emerge outside of the dominant Western production centres, then what are the stories filmmakers in emerging economies want to tell and how are these stories reflecting a different perspective on living in an increasingly globalised world? Within a team of four practice-led researchers, under the leadership of Professor Erik Knudsen from the University of Central Lancashire as principal investigator, I was the project’s co-investigator, coordinator of the Malaysia workshop and I shared instructor responsibilities with my three colleagues during each of the story development workshops in Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia.


This article is a report on the research project. It is divided into three sections. I will first introduce ethnomediaology – the methodology we developed and employed for this research project. I will then present an overview of story ideas created within the three workshops, demonstrating that these stories have strong personal impulses, discuss local socio-political matters and attempt to challenge the dominance of global and national production centres in the shaping of screen realities. I will end with a discussion of the project’s impact and future plans of the StoryLab Network.


Ethnomediaology as Media Practice


The StoryLab Research Network developed a methodology called ethnomediaology. Borrowing mainly from ethnomusicology, this approach allowed us to directly work with filmmakers in three developing media industries – granting deep insights into storytelling ambitions, career progression and generally the cultures from which these stories originate. The project’s main working method was a 3-day storytelling workshop with around 15 local filmmakers in each of the countries of Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia. Each of the four researchers became an instructor during the workshops, working with three to four participants per workshop. During the first day of the workshop, participants introduced themselves and the themes and narratives they were interested in or had explored in the past. After an interactive group workshop (trying different ideation techniques) at the beginning of the second day, each instructor would have two individual sessions with their three to four participants in the afternoon. The first session was usually spent on asking questions about the participant’s story ideas or developing a completely new idea based on the techniques we explored in the morning seminar. During the second session, we discussed the first draft of a step outline, which would then be reworked by participants overnight and presented on the third day for further feedback from other instructors and workshop participants.

The entire workshop was documented audio-visually. Participants were also asked to record a short introduction video on the first day and upload it to the closed Facebook page of the project. Participants would also upload their final step outline. The Facebook group allowed us to create a more interactive workshop, record the participants’ work and, most importantly for us, expose all participants to the work and ideas of their peers in the other countries.


It is important to note that StoryLab was not a film production workshop, media lab or community storytelling project but a film development workshop that ended with a written step outline for a film idea – not a finished film. The research project was interested in the stories that participants want to tell. Participants were free to use these story outlines to develop their ideas further and some of the participants used the network’s Facebook page to share work in progress after the workshops.

Figure 1: Screenshot of StoryLab Facebook group (top left), StoryLab Workshop day 1 (top right), day 2 (bottom left) and day 3 (bottom right) sessions.


Ethnomediaology, therefore, is creative practice research mixed with methods of ethnographic fieldwork. Through the direct engagement of researcher and the researched community, a mutually beneficial exchange of knowledge takes place. One of the outcomes of such engagement is the co-creation of artistic works, allowing the research to meaningfully impact the participating filmmakers – some of whom continued to develop their stories after the workshop, and/or established useful connections with other participants. This co-creation differentiates ethnomediaology from ethnofiction or ethnographic filmmaking (Sjöberg, 2014), in which creative practice constitutes the final research output, while in ethnomediaology, the creative act becomes a method of ‘data collection’.


Like ethnomusicology (Nettl, 2015) or ethnochoreology (Hall, 1967), ethnomediaology has its roots in anthropology – the study of other cultures through deep engagement, often in the form of participant observation. While Nettl (2015), as one of the field’s leading scholars, stays clear of arguing for a precise definition of ethnomusicology, he does describe ethnomusicologists as scholars that study non-Western music ‘as a component of culture’ (10). In the most basic sense, this is what the StoryLab did in its own application of ethnomediaology. As in all anthropological studies, primary ‘data’ in ethnomediaology cannot be found in manuscript form but lies instead in the artwork (the participants’ stories) and the interaction between artists before, during and after the creative process. ‘Data analysis’ then becomes a form of personal reflection, based on extensive diary notes taken, video materials collected and artworks developed. Findings in ethnomediaology are personal observations.


Like autoethnography, our approach to ethnomediaology is a social constructionist epistemology (Ellingson and Ellis, 2008) that rejects the claim of the impartially observing researcher. If we cannot ‘study’ another group objectively, and if there is no clear opposition between the researcher and the researched, then, like in autoethnography, reporting in ethnomediaology must be subjective and personal in nature. The researcher, the ‘I’, becomes not observer but participant, not meaning deductor but meaning maker, not reporter but storyteller. In terms of filmmaking, autoethnographic methods are probably best exhibited in what Bill Nichols (2001) described as participatory documentaries.


Figure 2: StoryLab Workshop participants in Ghana (top left), Colombia (top right) and Malaysia (bottom)


The workshops and their stories: from the personal to the socio-political


The following section reports on all 10 stories developed by filmmakers under my mentorship in the StoryLab workshops in Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia. As is the nature of ethnomediaology, the reporting on the collected data takes the form of personal observations.


What may have surprised me the most, from the perspective of a film school lecturer, was that no workshop participant developed purely fictional/fantasy stories – no stories of space travel, mafia, guns, zombies or murder. All of the stories that the participants developed came from autobiographical impulses, often deeply rooted in personal histories and beliefs. For example, Meliza, from Colombia, started the workshop, explaining that she wanted to:


‘... write for children. [Because] they consume a lot of TV shows that unplug them from their country. I want to show them characters, music, environments, animals and children like them; identifying themselves as Colombians or Latin Americans.’

Meliza was raised by a single mother. A lot of her friends did not have fathers in their lives. During the workshop, Meliza developed a short story of a single mother, who recently moved cities. Overwhelmed with her crying daughter during a hectic first day in the new apartment, the mother decides to take her daughter out for a short walk. The walk, involuntarily, extends into an overnight adventure of small obstacles that bring mother and daughter closer together and remind both of each other’s love.


Jassmin is a 39-year old scriptwriter from Malaysia. During the workshop, she developed a story about a popular romance novelist, developing writer’s block when writing her 10th book. Having to let go of her routine and the controlling care of her parents, the novelist leaves her mother’s house to find new inspiration in ‘Villa Takeiteasy’ – a remote rental property occupied by different extroverted characters that challenge her norms and routines and breathe new life into the novelist and her stories. Jassmin did not reveal the inspiration for her story, but the age, gender, living arrangements and occupation of the protagonist as well as the locations within the story suggested at least some autobiographical inspirations.


Most participants used their story’s autobiographical impulses to explore socio-political themes with relevance to their own lives. The workshop participants were socially conscious storytellers that care about the societies they live in. They tried to use stories as a medium to take a stand on issues of importance to them. Remy, from Malaysia, for example, started with a rather vague idea of exploring human emotions and what it means to be human. He developed a story of a young playwright with democratic ideals, asked to perform a play in which he has to accept briberies as a politician (a very common practice in Malaysia). On stage, the struggle between the playwright’s political ideals and his character’s choices create conflict that mirrors the Malaysian struggle between democratic ideals and political realities - between the need to do the ‘right’ thing and fulfil economic necessities. In the words of Remy’s pitch during the workshop:


‘In his character, Adli has been told to accept the ‘compensation’. He goes crazy because the amount of the bribe is too much to refuse. He breaks his own democratic principles. Adli sold his soul.’

Thaaqhib, also from Malaysia, started the workshop with a broad theme: While every religion speaks about unity, no religion has ever united us. In his story, he translates this theme into the character of a writer that is tired of writing meaningless scripts for television. When he meets a grieving old piano player, the encounter changes both men’s lives. They become friends, without ever discussing their religious beliefs, giving the writer new creative inspiration and meaning in his life, and the grieving old man new hope.


Divine, from Accra, has written and directed three feature films. Told specifically from an African perspective, his often epic stories explore humanitarian issues like slavery or domestic violence. He is currently writing his fourth feature film, which he partially developed during the workshop. The film explores the often unresolvable tension between mining as economic necessity for a husband and father in a rural Ghanaian village and the underlying illegality of such work.

Daniel is a young and openly gay man from Colombia. In his story, he explores the relationship between a young gay man and his loving mother, who cannot accept his sexuality. The young man leaves his hometown for the capital, Bogota, and enters into a homosexual relationship. When his father dies, he has to return home, and finds out that his mother did not just have an affair with his first boyfriend but also declared his first love for dead – all to change her son’s sexual orientation.

‘Julio and [his mother] Amparo argue. She discusses his sexuality, he argues that she has lied to him for so long, and now she is the lover of Adam, his ex-boyfriend.’

Luqman may sum up best what I mean by ‘from the personal to the socio-political’: As a young, modern Muslim, he constantly struggles between his religious beliefs and traditions and the realities of life in a modern multi-ethnic, globalised, urban Malaysia. He pitched this simple and effective story:


He and She


It’s evening. He finishes his prayer with his family. He shakes hands with his mother, kisses her cheek. He goes to his room. His mom opens up her phone and watches a religious sermon on video. He is texting someone on his phone - someone with a love hurt emoji. She says ‘come over tonight’. He says ‘ok, see you there’. He closes his phone and wraps a small box. He meets up with her at her house. All their other friends are there. They are fun and nice but a bit ‘out there’. They watch some movies and go for karaoke. Some friend says ‘don’t worry, nothing haram’. At the end of the night, one friend takes out a joint. It goes around the group of friends. Finally, it reaches her. She takes it and smokes. He stands up and says ‘sorry, I got to get some fresh air’. Outside, he gets a phone call. It’s his mom. ‘Where are you?’. ‘I’m having dinner with my friends’. ‘Ok’. Then the girl texts him. ‘Where are you?’. ‘I’m just taking a walk’. ‘The others want dinner now’. She texts location. He takes his car and drives to dinner. He sees the girl, and thinks. Pause. He’s walking towards the girl. Then he sees the friend who said ‘nothing haram’. Doubt. He goes back to the car. The girl sees him. She goes to him. He lets her into the car. She says ‘what’s going on?’. He says ‘it’s nothing, I’m fine.’ ‘No, what’s going on?’. ‘I’m just really tired. I want to go home.’ As she gets out of the car, his hand slides down to the little box he wrapped earlier. He turns around to her and says ‘hey’. She says ‘yes?’. He says ‘good night’. As he gets home, his mother yells at him for being home late. He is quiet, goes up to his bedroom and sits alone. A knock on his door. His mother is there, holding a tray with some snacks. ‘Are you hungry?’. He breaks down.


It was my impression that, while participants in all three countries often felt that their voices would not be heard at a government level, they still did not stop trying to make a difference in their immediate environments through the stories they chose to tell. There was no indication of political apathy. In the case of the StoryLab participants in Malaysia, Ghana and Colombia, it seemed like the filmic medium has become so accessible that it created a positively naive energy and a need to express, regardless of commercial considerations, personal stories for small audiences, outside of the mainstream mass entertainment.


The workshops and their stories: challenging traditional production centres


Global media is dominated by stories from only a few production centres – mainly Hollywood and to lesser extent Bollywood, a few European countries, China, Korea and Japan. Participants of the three workshops acknowledged this and tried to find ways to represent their lives, experiences and surroundings through the stories they developed. By doing so, they attempted to challenge the dominance of traditional production centres in the shaping of screen realities. In Malaysia and Ghana, participants wanted to tell Malaysian or Ghanan stories. They wanted to see their country’s stories represented on the screen. But in Ibague, which was the only workshop we held outside of a capital city, participants wanted to tell hyperlocal stories – stories that not only challenged the dominance of global but also national centres of media production. Traditional media industries are often situated in the capital cities. This is where the film schools are located. This is also where the production houses and major broadcasters are located. While a country can fight for representation on a political level (schools, funding, broadcasters) – most emerging economies only develop basic media structures in the capital city. The regions remain underrepresented. Digital media provides opportunities to change this and liberate voices. It makes it possible to develop stories such as these:


Adwoa, from Ghana, developed a documentary about Yaba – a high-achieving young girl from a small Ghanan village. When Yaba comes to Accra to study at university, she drifts into prostitution to afford a better lifestyle. After a series of abortions, she learns that she can never have a baby. Yaba is now working as a midwife and uses her story to educate teenage girls.


During the Colombia workshop, Julio wrote a story about a young boy who learns from his grandfather about the history and techniques of Ibague’s traditional music. Traditional music that, as Julio put it, was an important part of the cultural identity of Ibague but has been largely forgotten:

The grandson asks:

Why do they call Ibague, the musical capital of Colombia?


The grandfather takes a guitar and tells the grandson that this instrument has a long history linked to his own life and the city.


Juan has worked as a video journalist and covered stories around violence and displacement in Colombia. During the workshop, he developed a beautifully tragic love story set in Cucuta – a thriving trading town at the border of Colombia and Venezuela. After a free trade agreement between Venezuela and Colombia, Cucuta developed into an important trade centre, where Venezuelans buy essential products that are not available in their country. But in late 2016, the Venezuelan Bolivar started to lose value, eventually spiralling into the world’s highest inflation rate – devalued by 1,000%. Venezuelans could no longer afford to buy in Cucuta. Travelling, as a consequence dramatically decreased. Under this historical backdrop, a young Venezuelan man never returns to his girlfriend in Cucuta, who is waiting for him, expecting their first baby:

Pedro finds out about Black Friday; the Bolivar devalued. Maria is out of work and learns that she is pregnant. Pedro leaves Cucuta for Caracas, Venezuela. Maria awaits his call.


Juan reminded me of the potential, albeit hypothetical, impact of hyperlocal stories: I googled the news of Venezuela’s hyperinflation in January 2018, four months after the workshop in Colombia. At that time, I could only find the story in sources from South America. The news of Venezuela’s hyperinflation reached me again three days after I googled it. This time through the Western news media I consume habitually. Four months earlier, in a storytelling workshop in Ibague, Colombia, Juan had engaged me in the same event. But Juan did not offer cold, factual news. He captivated me with a personalised, emotional story that stuck with me and opened my mind and heart for the Venezuelan situation four months before the first news item reached me.

The impact of a story-development research workshop


‘The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a living thing, a story’ (Le Guin, 1989: 198).
‘There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you’ (Hurston, 1942: 71).

The StoryLab Research Network was intentionally designed as a pilot project around a rather basic research question to test the methodology of ethnomediaology and establish a network of practice-based researchers and storytellers in three emerging economies. As such, the project was a great success. We held workshops in three countries with a total of 42 filmmakers, established a Facebook group of 59 members to further potential discussions and collaborations, and developed 42 screen-based narratives that participants were free to continue to develop outside of the workshop – either on their own or with other participants. This is fantastic impact that has laid the foundation for many follow-on projects. For example, Divine from Accra has since shot his fourth feature film on illegal mining and Adwoa continues to document the story of Yaba. Meliza, from Colombia, has not developed her story further after the workshop, but instead formed working relationship with other participants and explores funding opportunities for her storytelling workshops for kids in rural areas around Ibague.

We started the research project with the overall question of what kind of stories filmmakers in emerging economies want to tell in a digital age that has democratised the means of filmmaking. From my personal observations during the story development workshops, and as reported in this article, the answer was: personal stories that discuss socio-political matters and have an impact on the filmmakers’ immediate environments. By doing so, the workshops celebrated the power of storytelling as a basic function of human communication in bringing people together, creating debate, illustrating different points of view, appealing to human emotions, forming communities around shared values, and impacting societies. All of these are important lessons to take away from a workshop and a research project like the StoryLab. But I also understood that Juan’s story and all the other stories that we developed through the StoryLab project were not just exercises in storytelling. They could hold value far beyond the limitations of a 3-day workshop. This is the potential power of personal, hyperlocal storytelling. It can, hypothetically, bring local issues to the global stage. And I started wondering, why, despite the digital revolution and democratised access to media production, I am rarely exposed to the stories of Pedro, Yaba or ‘He and She’ through the media I consume.

During the design of the research project, we had a number of discussions about issues around impact. We tried to avoid going into a foreign country, teaching a workshop and leaving after three days as if nothing had happened. Hence, we established a Facebook group and specifically termed the workshops ‘story development’ workshops, to indicate to participants that they would be able to use the network established and the ideas developed to continue to work on their projects after the workshops. And a number of participants did.


The StoryLab Network’s AHRC-funded research project culminated in a symposium in Preston, UK, in January 2018 (a summary version of which was be viewed online). During the symposium, we discussed the methodology and results of the research project. And we also started discussing future applications of ethnomediaology and the StoryLab Research Network. Questions arose as to whether story-development workshops could have increased impact by shifting attention away from the stories themselves towards larger impact goals around the troika of story, sustainable development and production/circulation. Stories bring us together. They hold value as personal therapy, as localised democratic debate, as advertising for ideas or values, and as thought experiments for imagined futures. We posed the question: what if a story-development workshop becomes the centre of an engagement project that works with the sciences, non-profits, local communities and storytellers to solve specific problems of our times? What if ethnomediaology becomes a tool, a methodology, to address problems that are traditionally left to the sciences?

One symposium discussion centred around the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals (United Nations, n.d.). On 25 September 2015, the General Assembly of the United Nations adopted the resolution ‘Transforming our world: the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development’, based on which 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) were enforced on 1 January 2016. The 17 SDGs are: (1) No Poverty, (2) Zero Hunger, (3) Good Health & Well-Being, (4) Quality Education, (5) Gender Equality, (6) Clean Water and Sanitation, (7) Affordable and Clean Energy, (8) Decent Work and Economic Growth, (9) Industry, Innovation and Infrastructure, (10) Reduce Inequality, (11) Sustainable Cities and Communities, (12) Responsible Consumption and Production, (13) Combat Climate Change, (14) Conserve the Oceans, (15) Protect Life on Land, (16) Peace and Justice, (17) Partnerships to achieve the Goals.


The 17 SDGs address central global challenges and create actionable goals for a more sustainable world by 2030. With some sources estimating that almost 90% of the world’s population under 30 years of age live in emerging markets (Euromonitor, 2014), many of these goals will have to be addressed in emerging economies. Storytelling could play a crucial role here – not just in supporting the sciences by communicating scientific findings. But by bringing stakeholders and communities together, discussing the status quo, imagining local solutions, and communicating these solutions for a sustainable implementation. Such an approach makes storytelling the central method of change, instead of a supporting afterthought.


In urban planning, an approach that puts story at the centre to balance economic growth, environmental health and social justice has been established (Eckstein and Throgmorton, 2003). South-Africa’s post-Apartheid Truth and Reconciliation Commission (Wilson, 2001) or Reconciliation Australia (Altman and Hinkson, 2007) are further examples in the field of peace and justice. But more can be done. I recently had discussions with colleagues about the power of animation in not just simplifying scientific findings but in exemplifying applications and creating local communities of action that bring scientists, artists and communities together in envisioning local applications of scientific solutions through storytelling exercises, and translating these solutions into a series of animations that foster identification with shared goals.


Such an approach to story-development workshops, then, one that puts story at the centre of different stakeholders and creates clear goals for a local community, would ensure that the workshops’ impact goes beyond the developed stories. Such an approach would take more resources, of course, but it would impact communities and their sustainable development through ethnomediaology and the story making process. It would also bring storytellers together with professional clients and audiences for their work, therefore impacting their own career growth.


Therefore, a central outcome of the StoryLab Research Network lies in its discussion during the concluding symposium and, in addition to having developed and tested ethnomediaology and established a network of screen practitioners, discussing bigger engagement and impact goals for follow-on projects that put ethnomediaology and the StoryLab Network at the centre of sustainable development goals around the globe.

A short documentary focusing on the impact of the StoryLab project, featuring interviews with StoryLab participants from Colombia, Ghana, and Malaysia, can be viewed below.



Acknowledgements


This research project has been funded by the Arts and Humanities Research Council in the UK. The project’s principal investigator was Professor Erik Knudsen of the University of Central Lancashire. This article was first presented at the 2018 Australian Screen Production, Education & Research Association (ASPERA) conference, Melbourne, 27-29 June.


References


  • Altman, J and Hinkson, M (2007) Coercive Reconciliation: stabilise, normalise, exit aboriginal Australia. North Carlton, Arena Publications Association.

  • Baumgaertel, T (2012) Southeast Asian Independent Cinema. Singapore, NUS Press.

  • Bresson, R (1975) Notes on the Cinematograph. New York, New York Review of Books.

  • Eckstein, B and Throgmorton, J (eds) (2003) Story and Sustainability: planning, practice, and possibility for American cities. Boston, MIT Press.

  • Ellingson, L and Ellis, C (2008) ‘Autoethnography as constructionist project’, Handbook of constructionist research, edited by J. A. Holstein & J. F. Gubrium. New York, Guilford Press, 445-466.

  • Euromonitor International (2018) Emerging Markets Account for 90% of the Global

  • Population Aged Under 30. 20 May 2014, blog.euromonitor.com/2014/05/emerging-markets-account-for-90-of-the-global-population-aged-under-30.html. Accessed 1 April 2018.

  • Geuens, JP (2000) Film Production Theory. Albany, State University of New York Press.

  • Hall, F (1967) ‘Benesh Notation and Ethnochoreology’, Ethnomusicology 11(2): 188-198.

  • Le Guin, U (1989) Dancing at the Edge of the World: Thoughts on words, women, places. London, Victor Gollancz.

  • Lobato, R (2010) ‘Creative industries and informal economies. Lessons from Nollywood’, International Journal of Cultural Industries 13(4): 337-354.

  • Neale Hurston, Z (1942) Dust Tracks on the Road. New York, Harper Collins.

  • Nettl, B (2015) The Study of Ethnomusicology: Thirty-Three Discussion. Chicago, University of Illinois Press.

  • Nichols, B (2001) Introduction to Documentary. Bloomington, Indiana University Press. Sjöberg, J (2008) ‘Ethnofiction: drama as a creative research practice in ethnographic film’, Journal of Media Practice 9(3): 229-242.

  • United Nations (2018) Sustainable Development Goals. www.un.org/sustainabledevelopment. Accessed 1 April 2018.

  • Wilson, R (2001) The Politics of Truth and Reconciliation in South Africa: legitimizing the post-apartheid state. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press.

An interdisciplinary, peer-reviewed and open access academic journal devoted to pushing forward the approaches to and possibilities for publishing creative media-based research. 

IJCMR_Footer_Black.png
bottom of page