I was talking yesterday about learning from my own experiences which, as it turns out, I don’t always specifically do. This one time, though, I happened to write a few pages of What I Learned scoring a project now ten years old. I put those pages in a folder... and then I put that folder someplace I totally forgot about until it wound up on a shelf in my home.
It was a lovely message from my past, though. A wonderful reminder of what I know... but don’t always remember. It was a list of problems I navigated during the project, how I solved them, and what I learned.
Reading those pages in their entirety, I discovered a larger challenge with which I was obviously grappling. A challenge I didn’t specifically name.
In broad strokes, there were a number of times where I composed more music than was necessary. That wasn’t the result of being musically verbose, by the way. I simply misjudged the need. And since I was debriefing my experience ten years ago with an apparently narrow focus, I overlooked how I’d made that specific mistake a number of times in a single show. I had looked at lengthy interviews and multi-section sequences and judged all of it.
Which I then had to either remove, or remove most of.
At the time, I was well aware of each mistake.
I just wasn’t aware of the systemic nature of my decisions.
You see during the course of those shows I wore different hats: editor, designer, and composer. And, whilst wearing my composer hat, I over-prescribed music to solve all manner of red flags. One of those “When all you have is a Hammer, everything looks like a Nail” kind of things.
I should actually’ve been making that call as an editor. I should’ve looked at the show as a creative diagnostician, identifying problems (or opportunities), considering solutions (music being only one of the possibilities), and considering the needs of the show more holistically.
Instead, I dealt with sequences one at a time in order. Making music decisions disconnected from all the other decisions I would make about the show.
Don’t get me wrong. The show turned out magnificently. But I struggled through it even so. And the nature of that struggle is something I didn’t realize at the time but realize now.
Meaning that, yes, putting on different hats in a post-production environment is inevitable. But how that hat changing occurs is critical. Because for me, it’s creatively problematic to just start doing. I have to consider the view from 10,000 feet. Fifty thousand feet.
Before I set my hands to a keyboard. Any keyboard.
Even before I set foot into an edit suite or studio.
I have to be able to visualize holistically. Consider. Imagine. Iterate in a manner that’s only possible inside a human mind.
I was talking yesterday about learning from my own experiences which, as it turns out, I don’t always specifically do.
I should probably do it more.