I’m new to this. This, being the film world. Two years ago was my first time at MountainFilm in Telluride. I was there as a judge for the Charlie Fowler Award, which meant I got to have seats reserved, intense philosophical and conceptual conversations after every viewing, catch food in-between flicks, and do it all over again the next day. Last weekend was no different, except for the seats. This time, I stood in line. The only film I got into early was my own—Waypoint Namibia, and I sat in the back and watched a festival cut of the film Chris Alstrin shot and we worked on creating exactly one year ago to the date of the viewing at Telluride.
I’d like to think there are tens upon tens of new ways for me to come back to Telluride. I’d like to think of myself as the 75-year old woman I saw in the coffee shop the first morning I was there, the one who grasped her husband’s hand and squeezed it each time she found another film she wanted to see. He had to have left with welts on his hand, and a smile.
People ask me why to go to an event like this, why a film fest, why a rock climbing rendezvous, or an ice fest? Is it worth it? They ask. Should I go?
Go. Be part of it. So much of what we do outside is on our own or with a small group. The chance to share it with others, to see others expression of it and to have that expression intermingled with a larger sense of world purpose and attention is not to be missed.
Just remember, bring your sunscreen, use a hair tie in the wind, ask questions when you have them, eat when you can, and see one thing every day about something you know nothing about. I bet if you do, you’ll get it, and you’ll be back.
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