Reflecting on Process
Seven years after its festival debut, our short documentary Process is now on YouTube! To celebrate, We sat down with one of its stars to discuss how her journey since has shaped her process.
In 2017, Michael and I were coming off a modest festival run with our debut feature To the Mountain—a film we shot using the money I had originally been given to write the script. That experience became a defining moment in our careers. It was something I spoke about in nearly every article, interview, podcast, or party for the next several years.
Here is a link to the last podcast I talked about it on: www.friendlesspod.com/eric-pauls/
and one for the film: tubitv.com/To-the-mountain
With that chapter behind us, we felt like we were sitting on a goldmine of new experiences. We didn’t want to let them go to waste while waiting for another grant or opportunity to come along—so we created our own. The result was a documentary about an art form that fascinated us, but knew almost nothing about: dance.
We reached out to the best dancer I knew, Catherine Howard, and pitched an idea: a documentary that relied entirely on an outsider’s observation of choreographers constructing their pieces. Always one to offer inspired support, Catherine connected us with Meghann & Sylvie, two emerging choreographers who, like us, were creating their own opportunities—mounting their first long-form pieces on their own dime.
When we pitched the idea to them, they didn’t hesitate. To their credit, these young artists were confident enough to let us drop into their rehearsals and essentially spy on their creative process.
Embracing Scarcity
One thing Michael and I learned while making To the Mountain on a shoestring budget was that scarcity fuels creativity. So, for this documentary, we imposed a set of strict limitations on ourselves:
We would attend only four rehearsals.
We could film no more than 30 minutes at each session.
The camera had to remain locked off.
We could not interview our subjects—we had to observe them.
This meant we were never going to capture the full story—only scattered pieces of a puzzle. A puzzle the audience would have to piece together for themselves.
In a way, this put us in the same position as our choreographers. They had their own constraints—expressing ideas through movement, music, and light within the limits of a stage. None of their dancers were going to walk to the front and explain their motivations; they had to trust their audience to interpret the work.
This documentary was probably the most extreme case of forcing limitations on ourselves we’ve ever attempted. But in doing so, we reinforced a lesson that has served us well ever since: scarcity is our friend. Whether we’re working on non-profit projects with limited budgets or shooting a TV show set in Florida—while standing in a frozen Calgary in December—we've learned that constraints force innovation.
Looking Back
That was how we remembered the documentary. But this past month, we sat down with MeghanN again. She let us interrupt one of her rehearsals—this time, for an interview—so she could share her perspective on the experience.
What struck us was how, years later, she had drawn the same conclusions we had. It’s always easier to see the forest for the trees as an outside observer. But for an artist, understanding your own journey takes time, reflection, and hard work.
As always, we left inspired by MeghaNn. She is one of the most fearless artists we've had the privilege to work with—someone who understands the value of her work and her process, allowing them to complement each other in a way that both challenges and nurtures her and her audience.
By Eric Pauls