February Update

Woo! The year has kicked off with a blast! Pilot season madness got me like:

I've started back with HTA Trust, directing a piece for them that should have a showing in April.

The Sight of Stars by Jakob Twidle and Run, Shosana Productions had its premiere, along with all the other work Run, Shosana had made last year, which was really inspiring.

One of my fav shots from Sight of Stars

On top of that, I've started teaching drama at St Kentigerns, AAAAAND been making a show for the Fringe. It's called A Womb With A View and it's about experiencing being in the womb for a second time. It's on at the Basement 27 Feb - 3 March and is a show for one audience member at a time. But it's very special and gentle, you will enjoy and will not feel too on the spot, even though you don't have an army of audience at your back.

BLEEP BLOP BLERRP..----'

Womb With A View - From the Brain of Arlo Gibson

Shot guys, more sweet treats to come this year is just getting started. Love to you all. Hit me up if you are wanting to produce some short films this year. Even if you have no experience - just the desire to learn and get involved is excellent. - Opportunity to be mentored by Alix Whittaker - Producer of Candlelit Pictures.

There was a man who didn’t think any thoughts. He wasn’t very interesting. He wasn’t very funny. He saw things and looked at them. He heard sounds but wasn’t annoyed at all. Often was he surprised. And with people he wasn’t rushed or rude. Sometimes they thought he had bad manners. Sometimes they thought he was stupid. He never supposed anything. He didn’t think to. Sometimes he sang. He didn’t know why. He never thought to wonder. It made him happy to help people. He never was much help. He didn’t really know how. But mostly people felt helped after meeting him. Or frustrated. He never got much done. But he survived.  Sometimes he sat in one place watching until his bum disappeared. And when he moved again it was like his bum was made of lazy electricity. He was always late. He always needed money and food. When he looked at advertisements he liked the eyes of the models within them. He liked pretty things. He farted in front of anyone. He slept a great deal. He slept so much that eventually he died. When he went up to God, God was like: “Man, what a waste”. And the man said nothing.

And then everything else in the whole world happened and no one thought of the man again, except when they were quiet, or stressed, or scared. And in those moments they would remember that pleasant little man who didn't really know how, and really didn’t need to.

The End.