Micmuss Curation

I wish films could be appreciated without any influence, but it is impossible to keep a film just as an audiovisual experience. Presentations, news, Q&As, synopses, reviews, interviews, festival catalogs, awards, digital platform promotions, social media comments, database ratings… The film’s genre, where it was shot, which country it’s from, where it was released, who made it… Even the title alone can affect a film’s audiovisual experience. So any external element can shape a film’s perception and our expectations.

Context Matters… Mostly

Art history is full of examples that got no attention at first but became important later when the context changed. You can even see this within a single artist’s career, sometimes in just a few years. A horrible debut film can suddenly be appreciated once the director becomes successful with following films, simply because people look back and re-evaluate. It might be labeled as “a master’s first work”, even though it is still not good enough. The opposite happens as well: a great debut is undervalued just because it’s a debut.

These examples are not just about popularity. They shape how we personally see art. I like that spoon analogy: the same spoon, if you find it in mud, on a supermarket shelf, or displayed in a museum, feels completely different in value. Art works the same way, and people always take advantage of that in a manipulative way. Okay, it’s easy to spot what’s really bad, but we can be misled by mediocrity when it is presented as a masterpiece.

Imagine… Just Once

Imagine an average “independent film”, full of its own cliches; people staring off into the distance, talking without ever looking at each other, everything is extremely slow and melancholic. In one scenario, it gets selected for a major film festival, and the director commits suicide right before the premiere. Critics suddenly fall in love with it, calling it the best film of the year and claiming the director would have been a successor to a master if he hadn’t died (this type of event actually happened, but find the film yourself, I don’t want to badmouth it).

In another scenario, the same film doesn’t get approved by gatekeepers. So the director just uploads it to his Vimeo page, and people criticize him as a copycat, a wannabe, someone trying too hard.

Same film but different contexts.

Now think about a famous star in a film about racing cars (you already know the one.) It opens the same way a thousand films do: the character wakes up, gets dressed, and goes through the events. You have seen it before. Everyone has. But no one complains, because the actor is famous, the cast is great, the director is susccesful and the film feels important.

Now imagine the exact same opening, shot-for-shot, made by a debut director with unknown actors. Suddenly, it feels lazier. Same choices but different contexts: what looks acceptable from the top looks like a mistake from the bottom (perhaps that’s why experimentation and freshness are a necessity, not a choice for debut directors, which is just another cliche forced by the context).

Structural Tragedy… Always

Artists have always worked inside a system. First, it was patrons. You could be radical, but only if it fit the tastes of aristocrats and religious authorities. Independence was conditional. Then it was market. Patrons became customers, and independence became the slave of profit. You can create what you want, but if you can’t sell, you can’t survive. Next were institutions. Galleries, academies, NGOs, state funds, festivals, and critics became the official gatekeepers. Independence became just another label, a genre with its own predictable formulas that tell you how to feel and think before even the film begins.

Now, it’s algorithms. The internet offers creative freedom, but the real circulation of work is still controlled. You are free to create and share, but to actually be seen, you must obey invisible rules and beg for engagement. The data flattens everything. Ranking systems reduce art to averages, where mediocrity and mastery sit in the same place. Art has always been trapped in this tragedy. But somewhere between the cracks, it still finds a way.

How Things Work… Normally

In fact, the emergence of artists and their recognition are the result of chaotic conditions. They are causeless, random, and inconsistent. Exceptional results come from exceptional processes, and we can never predict where they will take us. But we, humans, can never admit this: we search for reasons, turn them into stories, and then believe in those stories.

This happens to me all the time: my film is shown somewhere, a festival, a streaming platform, and suddenly, people I know want to watch it. People who have known for years that I make films act like they have just discovered it. They wait for someone else to tell them it matters. This is just how things work. But still, I value the people who found my work on their own, in the quiet, without needing someone to point the way. And for the ones who wait for a big success, when that day comes, my shoulder is going to be pretty cold.

I am Playing the Same Game… More than Expected

I am sure there are many good or at least noteworthy films hidden on hard drives or staying on the internet separately, out of any context. Sometimes gatekeepers, sometimes algorithms, sometimes insecurity, and sometimes luck or circumstances keep them from emerging and being seen. Of course, we can’t interfere much with the way things work, but we can at least try to create our own context.

That’s actually what I do in this blog. No one knocks on my door and asks me, “Share your ideas.” And I don’t go knocking on doors to “sell” them like a shameless salesman. But those who are already seeking can find this space, and in doing so, it creates a context for my films. In other words, it builds contextual or even manipulative value on a small level (that the cultural elites of our time haven’t really helped me create yet).

I am not sure this is the right “story” for me, but at least it’s something that satisfies me to keep going, perhaps until I switch it another one. And meanwhile, I want to offer the benefit of it to other filmmakers. I want to create an accessible archival space and make their works available to people who already know (and will know) me and my works. I will publish their films on my company’s YouTube channel if they want, and if anyone notices their films, and the curation grows, I think it will be a win-win for everyone.

Guts Required… Now

As a first step, I have included some of my films from my student years. I have been hesitant to share them until now because I wasn’t very cautious about copyright, music, and all the little details that go into making a documentary. Some people featured in the films didn’t even realize they were part of them. So, if anyone has concerns, I may take them down. And, of course, I don’t plan to monetize them, they will remain for educational purposes (I don’t believe they would generate any income anyway, but still, I left out a few that don’t feel right to share).

This is a small attempt from my side, but something we can grow together with other filmmakers if they participate. I am not in a position to help them anyway, and I wouldn’t do that even if I were a well-known, popular name. This will be valuable because it will be mutual and not guaranteed. It requires guts from both parties, so it should be done now. If we can bring certain works together, I believe we can build a good archive without worrying about statistics, just for those who seek it to find it. Let’s call it an experiment or perhaps a failing project that is worth trying (though I am still optimistic that future film historians will appreciate it).

Here is the submission form.

And here is the link to the curation.