I'VE BEEN PRIVILEGED to work as a lackey for some very clever storytellers during the past 12 months and they have told me a lot about the history of recording stories in early digital productions. When I was young, every measurement, for even the tiniest of motions, had to be recorded by hand by the camera crew so that information could be replicated later. That's so old hat now and with impatient students wanting to render complicated visual effects on home computers we're often approaching points where the story gets subordinated to an editing suite. Clearly, the tools have evolved at an astonishing rate but if you look behind the credits of a well-received television series, you can see a large group of artists, working as a seamless team, creating imagery that convinces an audience to follow a story. I carry some exciting new tools, like small format HD cameras with quality sensors and file-based recording on board. I can walk into scenes and capture work that goes over the air to a production desk straightaway. But I don't pretend to be the high quailty practitioner.
I know it still takes highly skilled crews, who know how to use tools to their best advantage, to make all-important decisions about which tool service which job the best. Indeed, the rapid change in new digital production technologies is driven not by the lust-worthy products on my wishlist but rather by the crews who use the gear in the field.
As our cinema experience grows ever more dependent on visual effects, it's clear to me that the most important element in the whole mix is the simple narrative. To tell a story is still an art and every technician, craftsman, effects specialist, and actor knows that.
Written while on a break, thinking about teaching narrative as an essential skill to creative multimedia students. I shot the still photo behind Tom Murphy on Lapps Quay, Cork, Ireland.
