Acclaimed filmmaker Richard Bell of Christchurch-based production company Shuriken directed and shot the video for ‘Ourselves’. It stars Zachary Te Maari and was filmed on location across Canterbury. Richard is known for his work alongside Anton Corbijn with Joy Division, Depeche Mode, U2, Smashing Pumpkins and Nirvana.
P: Thanks for taking the time to have a chat about your process Richard. I’d like to start by asking you about legacy. When you have created a rich body of work across decades, some of which has gone on to have its own enduring presence in popular culture, does that shift your perception of artistic choices made at the time? Can you put yourself back into the original headspace and does that sit alongside or within a more objective review?
R: Good starting point! I personally believe that each choice comes from the time it was made. I don’t carry a notebook of ideas around with me and look at those each time a song is being approached. But perhaps there is a subconscious memory system at work that brings previous ideas to the front when asked. What I do know is that each and every project is unique and has certain limitations, practical, physical, artistic, financial - looking at those as creative inspiration rather than barriers is really useful. I am not a meditator, like David Lynch, but do believe that listening to the song multiple times and letting your mind filter the images that come, again and again, till something rises to the top (Lynch uses a fishing metaphor) and then suddenly, Boom! That’s it! You have an idea and it seems obvious. Then you get the scary step… “what if Paul doesn’t like it”! But what I have found is that ideas flow well between us and bounce back stronger each time we discuss them.
So my question to you is: I feel your music is very visual, it creates many images in my head at every listen, Is that something you are conscious of? Do you think in images when writing at all? Or is it all sonics?
P: When I close my eyes and listen to a piece of music I don’t picture the rehearsal/recording/performance aspect of a group of musicians; for me it's always more allegorical, cinematic. I suppose that defines the kind of music I’ve been seduced by, which in turn feeds into my own creative voice. Music for me is its own world; much akin to a dreamspace. You can be didactic to some extent with lyrical choices; the description of a space, of a collision of metaphors and allusions. On the other hand music itself can be wholly evocative and that’s always my ambition because it's less prescriptive; the listener is invited to populate that emotional landscape with their own landmarks and totems. For me its the difference between telling somebody how you feel, or just showing them. That's why there are so many guitar solos on this new album ‘The Hinterlands’.
What I’m specifically aiming for with this new album is an exploration of the idea of landscapes as a shared cultural metaphor. Particularly the idea of the emotional interior; the vast terrain of self - our private universes of memory, regret, intent, solace etc. I want the music to feel as big as my emotions do. It’s interesting that you mention David Lynch as he is really at the forefront of that discipline of instinct; the recognition of it landing emotionally without the need to engage logic. Interestingly he has historically made much use of black and white when exploring that kind of work. What do you think that’s about?
R: I don’t think we have ever talked about Lynch together before, so this is really interesting that it comes up here, independently thought out by each of us. I think black and white touches on your point of telling v showing. I think B&W is a great “show thing” and let’s people add all the “detail”. You and I have never shied away from colour in previous videos, but this time, indeed maybe the whole album, feels black and white to me. You mention the vastness of the spaces you want to encourage and associate with the music. I think that approach is super suitable for B&W - it’s actually more vast because it is less. Add all the extra that colour would give and maybe you actually have less. On that tangent, does the idea of images attached to your sonic evocation carry any pitfalls for you? Let’s take the simple landscape idea, when I chose locations I wanted a narrative from them alone. What if I did them backwards? Started in the forest (a mistake in my head) if I had done that how would it make you feel?
P: In regards to the video? I think it might if it were too prescriptive, but it’s not. I think you have avoided that pitfall by giving the video its own internal logic; much like a dream or memories of a hypnagogic state. They are as open for interpretation as the music is. In terms of my own visualisation I can’t share that anyway. It's like when you read a book (until they make the movie) in that there are as many imaginings of a character like Steerpike from Gormenghast as there have been readers of those books; despite Mervyn Peake’s specific descriptions and illustrations. I think I’ve always understood music as an invitation to collective imaginings. That must be a hard line to tread specifically in regards to music videos where there is fundamentally the ambition to align aesthetics? I mean Joy Division were never going to have a video with fluffy bunnies in it, shot in technicolour, right?
R: Agree there! For some reason Joy Division are ONLY black and white in my head, but Gramsci can be both. ‘The Hinterlands’ though, to me, a very positive record, feels black and white and perhaps we have hit on something here. The interior and exterior vastness of its themes are such that they encourage a less real space to encompass them. A bit like the end of ‘2001’; how do you “feel” that which is so huge? Perhaps you have to fly to the edge and play there, because being in the middle you’d burn up. The album feels like a flight path though to me, there is a journey being taken, so that fits too. Did you conceive of it like that or did each song come into being and then, once done, you could look at it and realise where you had been?
P: I had the idea to explore the idea of the emotional interior, and from the get go and I knew I wanted to access “landscape” as a kind of shared cultural metaphor. That was also a response to the live show we did last year at the Waterfront Theatre where we played behind a gauze screen onto which we projected early 20th century experimental animations. I remember playing that show thinking, “this should be landscapes next time… why? And started the creative process really.” Another source of inspiration was the novel ‘Erehwon’ and I started making musical sketches, making guitar arrangements and basic demos. I then put them to one side. Later I came back to them as if I was the singer in the band and the guitar player had sent me some music to write lyrics too. I’d say at least half of the album was written that way, including ‘Ourselves’. Scattered throughout are some more textural songs that I already had and fitted the theme; it’s interesting that your subconscious creative mind can already be two steps ahead and in retrospect you recognise that your conscious mind is playing catch up. Do you find that?
R: Yes! I love the idea of Paul-The-Composer sending Paul-The-Writer some music and getting lyrics done. The balance between separation and connection is vitally important. For me, I “direct”, “shoot” and also “edit” and, though they are connected sub-consciously of course, I try really hard to separate them out. I am always asking the director in my head if they like the images I am shooting and then the editor gets to moan at them both when the footage is not enough/not good enough, etc, etc! Creatively I find that that brings far more energy as I retain the chance to make the film numerous times, each one with a specific main hat on. I find that really liberating.