who's going to be you?*
i'm at one of my favorite places on the planet. this is my tenth sundance but my first as an institute staff. i arrived in utah nine days ago and spent the first two days in SLC, catching up on life and work with my festival boss. there was a night we swam together in the indoor pool, and he sang the whole time, taking advantage of the perfect acoustics and the magic of the (unglamorous) crystal inn & suites pool room that looked out at a denny's and a mcdonald's. i felt so grateful for our friendship and the ability to get to work closely with someone i respect so damn much.
we moved on to park city a couple days later, where the festival takes over the small ski-resort town for 10 days. the locals call us the "people in black," i suppose because most of us come from big cities (lord knows it's not because there's a lot of goths).
unseasonably warm and without snow on the ground, utah was very brown and dry. i've only driven through once (moving to oregon) outside of january, and so i don't know what this place looks like year-round. i got a pretty good impression this time, though. wearing just a sweatshirt in january is disorienting, especially as i followed the news about ice in louisiana and snow all over the south. but then utah's big snowstorm came (the day of our big event, just like every year, go figure) and i guess that was the magic formula to make it all feel official.
this place has always been something of a summer camp to me. it's a place where i see friends i've never lived in the same city as, despite growing closer year after year. it's sometimes surprising to feel like i've made such strong connections by only overlapping in a town with them for 2 weeks out of the year.
this year, a good number of my favorite festival buddies couldn't make the trek (including maybe everyone in this photo, taken in 2012 before going party-hopping). in fact, at the opening night party, i saw so many new faces, younger than ever (partially because i'm older, but also because they opened up volunteering to under 21 for the first time in the history of the festival this year) and kind of felt out of place, myself. but then i drank some wine and took some pictures and it felt like home away from home.
sundance is a rare occasion when i'm completely receptive to meeting and connecting with new people all the time. this year, that included my two roommates (a british marketer who worked on sleep no more and who had shirley manson as a babysitter; a canadian VR filmmaker WOC who i'm obsessed with), the woman who composted the festival trailer, and kathleen hanna, who is just as dynamic and down to earth as you might've hoped. in introvert terms, though, i still require a fair amount of downtime to counter-balance so much new energy and social stimulation. after all, this level of hyper-sociability i have matched only perhaps during pedalpalooza, and i usually need a week speaking to no one to decompress when it's over.
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two nights ago i attend the art & inclusion event. the next day i spent too long looking for the videos or transcripts of the incredible performances or speeches given by keri putnam, the time warner foundation diversity board member, and all the musicians and artists, only to accidentally close the tinyletter window and lose the entire draft, links and all. but the overall feeling of being here is so powerful that i need to document it; i'm (understandably) worried that if too many days go by, i'll lose the momentum and inspiration completely. but the gist of the art & inclusion mission was how the sundance institute is committed to making diversity and inclusivity a core value. this is not just at the labs or what is accepted into the festival or who is hired: the goal is to make the institute an example for other non-profits to see how it can be done. to lead by example. to authentically invest in underrepresented voices. too often, this is a talking point (in tech but honestly in most industries); i suppose i'm writing this because i believe in the mission of the institute and that amplifying those voices makes the whole thing better. for everyone. there was a lot of talks that included visibility and how we much stronger we are, and more full of empathy, when we sit back and listen to underrepresented voices.
then today, i attended a brunch for women film composers and musicians. because my job (in the film music department) intersects, it's kind of like being in a room full of developers that don't do what i do but whose role i understand and support. the women i met (including the executive directors on the board) were warm and looking to connect in equal parts lets-network and what's-your-story. this is something i love about meeting women in professional spaces: they ask and listen. i spoke with one women who's pondering how to teach physics using live dancers paired with film. i met another who produced and sound engineered the big quiet, a meditative group session that takes place on the roof of the new world trade center.
but everyone's festival experience can be so different. some are here just for gifting suites and celebrity sightings (i mean, i saw chloe sevigny on the street and it did make me smile). some people see 3x the number of films i do. some go to more parties than i do, some less. but what's really magical about this place is it has all these different ways of experiencing it, and there's no one or correct way.
a friend of mine said that being at sundance jumpstarts her creativity--that she goes home and writes for a month. but i don't ever write as much as i intend to.
being here has always been really fruitful and also, confusing. i'm not, technically speaking, in film, nor am i a musician. when i meet people, i don't technically need anything from them, so our interactions have no hooks, just casual curiosity and friendliness. sometimes, it ends in connection or an opportunity to work together. and i really appreciate that. for me, i leave almost every event wanting to create and contribute. i leave the festival overall wanting to make an impact and to find a way to produce more things.
where i lose speed: knowing how to be accountable to all the dreams and ideas i have when there is the internet and only twenty-four hours in a day and even though i'm sleeping less now than i ever used to, those sparkly windows of productive time never come without a deadline or a need or a change of scenery.
rhienna
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