I'm writing this blog in the past, (like a ghost, or mystic meg) as tonight we will be busy filming down at the pools until late at night.

We picked up the tripod, camera head, jib and 8 kilowatts worth of lighting this morning, but last night we went down with a few halogen lights and tested out some shots with close lighting.

The light moves quickly on that side of the island, as the setting sun is shielded by the high hills behind the pool. The halogen bulbs gave everything a golden light, eerie and absurd.

I like the idea of having lights in shot, the technical viscera of a film set lingering in the edges of the frame.

Production shots are intriguing and mystifying - the camera you can see is pointing at something else that you cannot.

These remind me of a nativity scene, or byzantine paintings where gold leaf signifies the shining light of God. Light in darkness is always meaningful, or at least, potentially meaningful.


The interplay between sound and the image will be essential to how this film is perceived. That seems like an obvious thing to write, but we'll be using field recordings from around the island, some of which will be at odds with the visual element of the film. This disjoint between what you see and what you hear is something I want to play with, so we are getting as much recording done as possible to give us a wide range of textures and timbres to play with once we start editing.

Here, we are recording the sound of the flaming torches as the wax melts and burns; it gives off a low rumble with pops and crackles, unfortunately it can't compete with the sound of passing aeroplanes and the occasional car.

I don't know how we decided that the film should involve using expensive equipment near fire and water.

Here I am, looking pissed off that Tim has ruined a good recording with the sound of his shutter.