Creatio Continua

Author: ceribelli (Page 2 of 3)

Nektar Island – Dreamkeepers

It was amazing to be invited into a new episode of the show Nektar Island, at K2K radio – in the virtual company with my dear friends Chawat Lancien, Christian Müller and Maddalena Ghezzi to talk a little bit about “Il Maestro” Federico Fellini, his creative process and the extraordinary ‘Libro dei Sogni’. 

Magic, pasta, and that’s all!

Listen to the show in the link below.  

#ScriPitch – Talk at Ten (25/03/2021)

Talk at Ten – 25/03/2021

It was such a pleasure to be a guest of the webcast “Talk at Ten” hosted by the @westlondonbusiness with the theme Creative Entrepreneurs and West London’s Screen industry. It was amazing to be part of it, along with such wonderful creatives like Maria Walker (Studio Development Consultant), Carl Schoenfeld (BFI) and the artist Gala Bell (@galabell). Watch it on YouTube!

– Maria Walker, Studio Development Consultant

– Carl Schoenfeld, British Film Institute

– Rafael Ceribelli, ScriPitch

– Gala Bell, Multimedia Artist Talk at Ten is kindly supported by Better Futures

The Explorer

Rudyard Kipling, Collected Verse of Rudyard Kipling (New York: Doubleday, Page and Company, 1915)

“There is no sense in going further – it’s the edge of cultivation,”

So they said, and I believed it – broke my land and sowed my crop – built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station. Tucked away below the foot hills, where the trails run out and stop.

Until a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes,

On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated – “Something hidden. Go find it. Go and look behind the Ranges — Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!”

So I went, worn out of patience; never told my nearest neighbours; stole away with pack and ponies – left’em drinking in the town and the faith that moveth mountains didn’t seem to help my labours, as I faced the sheer main-ranges, whipping up and leading down.

I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it.

Got my strength and lost my nightmares. Then I entered on my find.

To The Actor

Excerpt of the book “To The Actor”, by Michael Chekhov

It is evening. After a long day, after much work and many impressions, experiences, actions and words – you let your tires nerves rest. You sit quietly with your eyes closed. What is it that appears out of the darkness before your mind’s eye? You review the faces of people you’ve met during the day, their voices, movements, their characteristic of humorous features. You run again through the streets, past familiar houses, read the signs. Passively, you follow the motley of images of your memory. 

Unnoticed by yourself you step back over the boundaries of today, and in your imagination slowly arise visions of your past life. Your forgotten and half-remembered wishes, daydreams, life’s aims, successes and failures appear as pictures before your mind. True, they are not so faithful to the facts as recollections of the day just passed. Now they are, in retrospect, slightly changed. But you still recognize them. With your mind’s eye, you now follow them with greater interest, with more awakened attention, because they are changed, because they now bear some traces of imagination. 

But much more happens. Out of the visions of the past, there flash here and there images totally unknown to you! They are pure products of your Creative Imagination. They appear, disappear, they come back again, bringing with them new strangers. Presently they enter in relationships with one another. They begin to “act”, to “perform” before your fascinated gaze. You follow their heretofore unknown lives. You are absorbed, drawn into strange moods, atmosphere, into the love, hatred, happiness and unhappiness of these imaginary guests. 

Your mind is now fully awake and active. Your reminiscences grow paler and paler; the new images are stronger than they. You are amused by the fact that these new images possess their own independent lives; you are astonished that they appear without your invitation. Finally, these newcomers force you to watch them with greate poignancy than the simple pictures of everyday memory; these fascinating guests, who made their appearance from nowhere, who live their own lives full of emotions, awaken your responsible feelings. 

They force you to laugh and cry with them. Like magicians, they call up in you an unconquerable desire to become one of them. You enter into conversations with them, you now see yourself among them; you want to act, and you do so. From a passive state of mind, the images have uplifted you to a creative one. 

Such is the power of imagination. 

In our age, humanity is inclined to forget that to progress culturally, life, and especially the arts, must be permeated with all kinds of intangible powers and qualities; that what is tangible, visible and audible, is but a small part of our optimum existence and has little claim upon posterity.

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