Periodically, a part of me places a hand on my shoulder, leans forward into my field of view and peers into my eyes. “Who is this for?” I can’t help but have an earnest conversation. I’ll most likely reply: “I don’t know, but if no one else, then myself. You.”

More often than not, the process of making seems to be a performance in its own right, a distinct thing to be witnessed and enjoyed. Further to that, and perhaps it points to a sentimental temperament, often having made a thing, and that thing may not be a finished film but just as likely an unfinished one, the “thing” becomes an artefact, and those artefacts are archived in a museum in my cupboard, or in a hard drive. To be pulled out and witnessed again, at another time, as a reminder of who I was back then, and the shape of my thoughts and feelings.

An Archive of Feeling

My friend Henry came to visit recently, I pulled out a folder full of drawings, diagrams and drafts of a script I had written about us both, and our friendship. In a moment, we landed in a space that we hadn’t been to for years – we have been living in different parts of the UK for some time. And, despite the fickleness of our memories, and myopic view of who we are, we became a bit quieter, a bit more reflective and we floated up to space where we could look down and see: how things were and how things have changed.

In Praise of Home Video

The more serious I become with my film-making, the more often I come back to artefacts that capture the process, as some aspirational form of art. They can be deeply personal, with the capacity to move you outside of yourself, and they will stick with you for as long as you hold onto the archive in which they’re stored.

Someone, somewhere, said relief is one of the best feelings. I’m not sure where I saw or heard that, but I’ve had it in mind. I’ve had it in mind since I had no money, and now I have some money, and I am relieved. Is it the best feeling though? Yes and no.

Maybe it’s not in this case because I have a bit of money, but I don’t have money. Or to put it another way, my money problems haven’t been solved, they’ve moved from the acute back to the chronic. So maybe what I’m feeling is only partial relief, and no one, anywhere, said partial relief is one of the best feelings.

And yet it is a good feeling. I feel lighter, and I smiled whilst listening to music for the first time in months yesterday. This post, though, is the last in this three-parter. And in saccharin storytelling style I am ending it with relief, partial though it may be. I’ve got a bit of money and I feel able to face the world, I can look out instead of in, for a while at least.

And tomorrow I’m going to film something of my own, with my friend Rose, for the first time in quite some time.

Ennui is soft and has gradual edges, there is no horizon, no obvious step that can be taken to cross its threshold, and leave. I have been sitting at home playing on a game. Eating twice a day; I am not doing enough to need more food, and it conveniently keeps my food bill down. Smoking roll ups out the window. Coffee. Tea. Wake Late, Sleep Late. Perhaps a walk to the shops, perhaps not. Perhaps a bit of productivity, probably not.

I’m slowly doing very little, and I’m wondering something. I’m wondering what shape my life should take, and whether I should fold it in on itself yet again. I left University to be an actor, I found the institution too small. I left acting to look after my health. And Brighton because I felt alienated from myself. I’m now sat in a flat in Streatham, working in film – albeit in a technical role – wondering whether I should leave my work to do something more stable. In a way every decision, every act of quitting or leaving was done for self preservation and to protect myself from pain, the question is when is the pain necessary, or maybe will the pain stop? If you quit, you don’t answer that question.

I long to have a voice, as an actor, director, or artist. Not so I can be listened to, but so I can speak, for myself, to listen to myself speak. And to speak about things that matter to me, understandings I have come to, lessons I have learnt, and notes on life I have collected. I also need to eat, and sustain myself, laugh, see friends, have fun, talk about my feelings, other people’s feelings, and things that have no bearing on my life or others too. I am trying, hard, to find a way of balancing the variables in my life so that I can be well, have a voice, and have good relationships. And not just to have those things for a moment, but consistently.

Things will change and morph as they always do, I just need to say yes to the things that move me closer to the balance I have described. Right now, there seems to be very few ways I can do that, and so I sit and wait, playing my game, in some listless limbo called ennui.