This morning, with the news from the new Paris attacks steadily ticking in, it feels incredibly sad to be writing anything here - and even worse not to write.
I feel sad with compassion for the victims and those who love them, for their suffering and shock and despair. It is the same sadness that I feel about the victims of the horrific violence we are witnessing in various parts of the world, further away and very close by. Yes, of course, I feel a stronger pang of fear for those I know and I know to be in the vicinity of immediate danger. It doesn't matter whether these people are in France, Lebanon, Syriah, Turkey, Israel, Palestine, Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Pakistan or the Aegean Sea... the list goes on. It is only natural to hope that your friends are safe and to reach out to them first - but my imagination is strong enough to fathom that those people who I have never met because they have not crossed my path yet feel the same fear and shock, it's not hard to imagine that they, too, love and despair about the loss of loved ones and violence directed at them.
And there is another sadness that is oddly mixed with anger: sadness and anger about the fact that a film project about religious or racially motivated violence would possibly now get so much more attention and interest than this film about the culture of the very same region and countries I mentioned above and about the fact that there are artists who manage to transcend the stereotypes, the hatred, the stigma and work and play side by side.
I don't care whether you think it is selfish to write about my documentary on a day like this. I know that if anything, this film is not selfish, this attempt of mine to bring something of what I experience in this music and in the people performing it to you, is my way of contributing to - peace! Yes, nothing more and nothing less.
A friend who is living with his family in Paris wrote on Facebook this morning "we're fine. Prayers for the victims. Switch off your TV, terror for your mind, not peace." I hear him. I know what he means. Yet, I don't want to switch off my TV (I don't have one, anyway), I don't want to recoil, resignate - I want to change the content. It is my job. I make that stuff you watch on your TV and in the movies. I make movies.
But you can change the content, too. The world is what we allow it to be. No, we must never turn a blind eye to injustice, we should stand up for what we stand for. I stand for the fact that humanity is more than the crap we are seeing. We are all better than the image of ourselves we allow to show up at the moment. And, yes, lots of what is east and south of the Mediterranean shore is so much better, so much more human than what we allow our TV programs to broadcast.
Switch your screen back on and change the program. Yes, my suggestion would be to try the documentary about the musicians of Labyrinth Musical Workshop that I am preparing together with Victoria Trzeciak and the team of Tola Films. We are running an Indiegogo campaign to raise the funds for filming a concert of Ross Daly, Kelly Thoma and Marijia Katsouna at Carnegie Hall in December and are looking for support from you. It is my suggestion and I stand for it.
Having met Ross Daly and getting to know his work and music has for me personally - and countless others who I have talked to - been nothing less than an eye-opener, a new path into the world of the East so many of us know so little about, has rung so true to what humanity should be about and - I will continue to believe - at its core is. I - personally, as Sibylle - find it worthy to get made. If you join me in this conviction and have the means to do so, please consider contributing to the project. You will find all necessary information if you click on the link below.
With great hopes that we can turn the world into the place we want it to be, thank you!
Peace and music to you all!