“Donotdo”

The neologism “donotdo”, which I develop here, describes the capacity we have to set the world in motion at great depth, to transform it in a way that is far more powerful than through the traditional doing.

We aspire, a priori, to create and sustain movement in the world, whether to derive personal satisfaction or to earn remuneration through work. What is most commonly accepted in Western thought is that setting the world in motion requires organization and planning of future actions, whether we carry them out ourselves or delegate them to others. These plans are tied to identified and shared objectives.

Bartleby

In Herman Melville’s novella Bartleby (1853), a copyist named Bartleby, working in a law office, systematically responded to all directives with: “I would prefer not to.” He was present, serious, but if anyone tried to impose something on him, if any request was made of him, he would always reply: “I would prefer not to.” This seems absurd, incoherent. Yet, this is precisely the poetry of Melville’s story. Narrated by Bartleby’s employer, the tale reveals how this deeply destabilizing encounter touched within him a delicate philosophical understanding of the world and its mysteries, a depth he never imagined he could reach. This inner journey completely transformed his life and his vision of humanity. He continued to practice law, but he lived with a depth and meaning that had not existed before this encounter.

Preparing to do, rather than preparing what to do

In my professional life, I have often led filmmaking workshops, both for film students at prestigious schools in France and abroad, and for children, people with disabilities, or families. At La Fémis, for example, during the two-month summer university program that brings together a group of 15 students from around the world to learn how to make a documentary, I used to lead the first three days of the workshop.

The goal of the program was for each student to make a documentary film. What are the steps to making a documentary film? Finding a subject, exploring it, writing a script, organizing a shoot, filming, editing, mixing, and then distributing the film.

During the first two or three days, I did not ask them to make a film, nor to prepare for shooting one. Instead, I asked them to prepare themselves to make one or several films. Preparing to do, rather than preparing what to do. Preparing themselves internally, to put themselves in a state of openness to all opportunities, to be able to seize all unforeseen events and integrate them into the film.

One might think this is a lack of control, but it is deliberate. It is about creating within oneself the conditions to receive what the world has to offer, in order to translate it best through one’s vision and share that vision with others, who will be enriched by it.

Why rather than how

By offering students, through techniques of collective and emotional intelligence, opportunities for exchange, for discovering one another, for opening up to one another, for reflecting on the role of cinema in the world and for themselves, for focusing on why we make films rather than how we make them, I placed them in a state of openness to themselves and to their surroundings.

We were not at all preparing the film we were going to make the next hour. We were preparing ourselves to make a film or films that would matter to us and to others. We were opening within ourselves the doors that would later allow us to touch the depths of artistic work.

From the outside, it simply looked like people exchanging, getting to know one another (since these students, coming from all over the world, did not know each other and barely spoke French). One could see people in intellectual emulation, moving together in a space, sharing fundamental things. From the outside, it might seem simple, joyful, like a group of people reimagining the world, revisiting fundamental questions, grounding their presence here and now.

Making films differently

And then, suddenly, I introduced them to technical and methodological frameworks for making films, short films. Frameworks that invited them to work extensively on improvisation. Over the three days, I proposed successive protocols for them to work in small teams, individually, or sometimes collectively, to create a collective film, or five films made by groups of three, or fifteen films made individually—all in a very short time (less than an hour).

These films were shot in a single take, without editing, from start to finish, including the title at the beginning and the credits at the end, which were filmed during the shoot. I won’t go into all the details of these workshops (you can find them in other articles on this website).

After the moments of filmmaking, we watched them together attentively. We discovered each other’s work, and based on these learnings, I proposed a new protocol for the next film. In three days, it wasn’t one film that was made—it was fifty films that were shot and screened. Some of these films were very strong, very powerful, very important, essential for the individuals in what they discovered and shared. There were fictions, invented stories, documentaries, experimental films—all kinds of styles.

Being the letter I draw

The quality of listening to oneself, to others, and to the world meant that the gestures the students made during the moment of creating the films were always precise, exact, perfect, like sheet music. Just as a calligrapher, in a fraction of a second, traces a perfect letter, full of all their life’s learning, perfect because of how their body and soul have been prepared to fully invest that fraction of a second in which they trace the character. And when you see that character, it is magnificent. Yet, it was traced in a fraction of a second. It is full of all the preparation the person had, all the inner transformation they had chosen to undertake over years to be able to trace that character—and any other character. That person can draw thousands of characters, each perfect and magnificent, in just a few hours. It is exactly the same for cinema. But this is not the usual way we are taught to do things.

Putting oneself in a state of motion

I speak of setting the world in motion rather than fabrication, because what builds our humanity, which is a collective space, is precisely these shared movements, these ways of coming together, of dialoguing, whether interpersonally or through technical objects (like social media), architectural objects (like museums or stadiums), which enable collective activities, or cultural objects (like books).

What builds our humanity is its movements. Some movements produce material objects, but others produce only connections. Connections are no less concrete or important than material objects.

For motion to be possible, one must internally put oneself in a state of motion. And this is precisely the purpose of the concept of donotdo: to emphasize the need to mobilize oneself to be in a state of motion, to prepare to act, rather than to organize to act.

This capacity, which we develop through various methods that may seem very atypical (like the one I described for filmmaking), allows us to receive all the opportunities that come our way. And in a very short time, almost “magically,” to turn lead into gold.

Sharing our questions

It is an opening within oneself, or rather a set of openings within oneself, that arises from a strong intention. Not the reassuring intention of knowing where one will end up, but the profound intention to open within oneself and in dialogue with others the meaning of the questions we share around a subject, whatever it may be.

Sharing our questions opens doors. And when we are then presented with a situation in which we are free, with the goal of producing an object, our focus is no longer on the object itself, but rather on the depth of our presence with these objects. And thus, the world is set in motion, as if by magic. And the films, for example, almost make themselves, achieving levels of quality, interest for the audience, and truth, like never before.

Accessing Power

On these topics, I recommend reading Romain Graziani’s beautiful essay, The Use of the Void (2019), subtitled Essay on the Intelligence of Action, from Europe to China. In this book, he explores all the nuances of “letting go” that allow for more essential actions than Cartesian approaches. I quote a sentence from page 86: “When the will is governed by nothing, when it is not subject to an external purpose, when it is not in service of a precise design, it becomes pure Power.”

I propose this neologism, “donotdo”, to help, I hope, simplify the understanding of our capacity to activate this pure Power that Romain Graziani evokes. It may seem very mysterious, reserved perhaps for a few sages, great artists, or great philosophers. Here, I have sought to introduce and share access to these paths, which I believe are accessible to everyone. I know, because I’ve put it into practice with thousands of people in professional art workshops.