⚖️ Why Creative Projects Often Struggle to Last

Whether it’s filmmaking or any other creative pursuit, sustaining long-term activity is notoriously difficult. At its core, the challenge comes down to a simple imbalance:

• The cost of continuing the work
• The satisfaction gained from doing it

When the effort outweighs the reward, the activity starts to feel like a losing proposition.

In commercial filmmaking, this is obvious. People say, “We couldn’t make the film we wanted because we couldn’t raise the budget.” But the real issue isn’t stingy investors—it’s that the project doesn’t promise a return. If the film can’t recoup its costs, it’s too risky to fund.

Of course, some argue, “Art shouldn’t be measured by money!” And that’s fine—just don’t expect others to pay for it. If you’re driven by passion alone, then keep creating without complaint.

Even in hobbyist filmmaking, money isn’t the goal. But if we treat money as a proxy for value, the same problem emerges.

In today’s content-saturated world, even a well-made film may go unnoticed. In Japan, many creators love making things but dislike promoting them. They pour energy into production but neglect outreach. As a result, their work rarely gets seen.

Creating in isolation is possible—but emotionally taxing. Without some level of recognition, even self-satisfaction becomes hard to sustain.

🧠 Understanding the Role of Recognition

“Desire for recognition” often gets a bad rap—especially when linked to social media addiction. But it’s a powerful motivator. Rather than suppress it, we should learn to channel it constructively.

Here’s a principle worth remembering:

Value is proportional to the amount of happiness something brings.

If a creator makes a film purely from instinct, but it leaves every viewer uncomfortable, it’s fair to say the work lacks value. (That said, polarizing art can still attract fans—better to provoke than be forgettable.)

At minimum, a film should avoid making viewers feel their time was wasted. If it entertains or inspires even a little, it has objective worth. And yes, such a film is more likely to earn a “like” on social platforms.

So while we shouldn’t be ruled by recognition, we can use it to guide our efforts toward greater impact.

🏮 Rethinking Film as a Community Catalyst

Whether as a hobby or a business, if we treat film purely as “art,” we limit its potential. Complaining that Japan doesn’t invest enough in culture won’t help—especially in tough economic times.

Instead, what if we saw film not just as a product to be watched, but as a tool for building community?

This idea parallels the role of local festivals.

I once worked on a video project documenting the making of mikoshi—portable shrines used in Japanese festivals. The craftsman I interviewed shared fascinating insights.

A mikoshi can cost nearly ¥10 million, and every decade it requires ¥2 million in maintenance. You might think it’s smarter to build one from synthetic materials that don’t degrade. But the need for regular upkeep is actually a feature, not a flaw.

Because the shrine is expensive, communities organize festivals to justify its existence. Residents feel pride seeing their town’s mikoshi on display. It connects them to local history and ancestors.

To fund maintenance, communities save gradually. This requires planning, cooperation, and ongoing interaction—keeping the town vibrant and the shrine-makers employed.

In contrast, towns that abandon their mikoshi often see their festivals shrink and their communities fade.

🎬 What If We Treated Film Like a Mikoshi?

Imagine shifting your focus from “making a film” to “creating an environment where filmmaking can continue.”

Instead of seeing the finished film as the goal (the mikoshi), we prioritize the events around it (the festival) and the creative process itself (the community).

This mindset opens up a whole new way of working—one that’s truly sustainable.

🤝 Practical Ideas for Community-Based Filmmaking

The biggest strength of creative work is that it produces something tangible. So the most realistic way to build community is through events centered on that output.

For filmmakers, that means screenings and shoot days.

Rent a local restaurant or karaoke studio with DVD playback and host casual screening parties. Make sure collaborators—especially those who aren’t directors or producers—get to enjoy the fruits of their labor. Ideally, they should look forward to the event so much that it motivates them to help with the next project.

One idea I’m exploring is turning the production process itself into an event.

Since filmmaking takes time, a single screening isn’t enough. Why not film behind-the-scenes footage during each shoot? Have available crew members interview cast during prep. It keeps everyone engaged and creates valuable documentation.

You can then launch a “making-of” series as a separate project, with regular screenings even before the main film is finished.

🧩 Building Community Isn’t Easy—But It’s Worth It

Many creators struggle with community-building and event planning. Most prefer quiet, focused work. And yes, creative expression often thrives in solo environments. Democratic collaboration can dilute artistic vision.

But the traditional lone-wolf model isn’t always sustainable. That’s why I’m increasingly drawn to new approaches like these.

If any of these ideas resonate with your own creative journey, I hope you’ll find them useful.

Thanks for reading.