If you're as depressed as I am then you're having a hard time making sense of this.
Not much I read or reason places me on solid ground. The rationales are sound, the numbers clear, but nothing makes it make real sense. That is the power of such reckless anger and hate. It burns in a loveless and irrational vortex. All of us spinning and talking and crying, my young film students found in their deep despair a different fire. One that warms and creates and builds. One that fights. Their very existence trying to become better artists is even more critical than ever. They know this, they see this, and they are up for the challenge. It is inspiring and it reminded me to know myself. That is the power of artists and art.
Every single film I have ever made or spent serious time collaborating on has searched for humanity in the world. They have attempted to understand the lives and experiences of people living on the fault lines, folks just desperately trying not to fall in. And when they do, how they climb out, branch by branch and stone by stone.
Six years ago I finished a film called To Be Heard about three of the most vibrant, talented, and brave people I know. I spent five years with Pearl, Karina and Anthony as they grew into adulthood tiptoeing through the minefield into which we were all born.
In them I remember the power when someone who has little, fights for everything. These three people faced the darkest of themselves and did not give up. They fought (sometimes each other), sometimes they lost, sometimes the won, but they never gave up. If you want to spend some time in this world with these three young people then we will all be together again. Survivors, fighters, friends and family still not giving up.