Show Business.

People often think that this is a glamorous industry. There's very little of that, in the art department. But we get around, we see extraordinary things, we meet a plethora of people. The last few weeks have been a right old merry-go-round.

A director who greets one in the mornings, by name. A production designer turned friend, with endless amounts of compassion and understanding. (I wiped away a tear to see him fly away)

A forty meter long Chinese dragon with yellow panted operators. Acrobats. A man soaring through the air in a harness. A prop master's tales of his miniature horse named Geoffrey - we rooted for him through a case of lockjaw. A Japanese director of photography who bent spoons at the breakfast table, claiming that it depleted him so, he was sad over his supper.
A beautiful young contortionist.

World weariness with spangles.

(Photograph courtesy of the Gedi)

Cape Town is dry and dusty. There have been fires in the veldt and at night a dark pumpkin moon hangs over the city. On Monday I travel back in time to the 1840's. Old Texas, the world of the Comanche, horses, tipis and the wild, wild West.

Then it will be Winter and whatever follows that, still a mystery.

Three day heat wave.

We sweltered, we melted. The pied crows yawned. At ten AM in the Swartland, it's 38*C in the shade. An hour later, 43*C. The aircon in the minibus goes on the blink. The world is parched.
 

Cryptic notes from our recce:

spiderwebs on bike. (hidden)

60% black shade.

kill rose garden.

daylight bright as poss.

wreck between big tree and lollipop.

My assistant sends me a photo of a heap of red sand. The Director claps his hands.