Ivory Towers

I spent the whole day today working on storyboarding and shotlisting my upcoming film. My co-producer and I started out on location wandering around the clearing which in which most of the movie will be set. It was valuable to actually be there; several original ideas were sparked by the environment, and quite apart from that, we discovered exactly where we could and couldn't shoot. In the past we've tried to plan out scenes mentally, and it has done some good. But often we found gaping holes in our plans and hypotheses once we were faced with the real world outside of our heads; a problem encountered by many others of greater intelligence. It's quite easy to theorise and devise and plot and plan - but going outside and getting dirty while testing the above? That's hard work. And often disappointing to boot. Most things look nice and pretty while they're fluttering around in our minds, but when dragged into the unmerciful light of day they can metamorphose into something worthy of a nightmare. This, I am convinced, is why the Greeks never ruled the world. Their wise men (most of them) were happy to philosophise and debate and ponder, but they drew the line at actually doing anything. They knew of atoms and electricity but they would not lift a finger to make so much as a wheelbarrow. This is also why we haven't had helicopters and armoured fighting vehicles since the 16th century. The plans were all there, the ideas were mature, but would anyone build the things? No. Whenever philosophy, knowledge or planning is separated from action it becomes crippled and barren. When we isolate our minds and cease to helpfully reference the outside world, decay and death (fast or slow) is inevitable. Perhaps the clichéd 'ivory tower', reviled in word and embraced in deed, is none other than the cloisters of our own skull.