By Max Lom-Bor

SCA in Cannes – By Max Lom-Bor

Day 1 in Cannes and to me it’s a play,

The audiences masses, the great lines the stage, the stagehands’ frantic, the security tight, the golden lions, the ongoing fight. 

The white trousers, the yachts, the absurdity, the glamour. The mask of professionalism, reduced to a stammer. As creatives alike are put on the spot. To state their worth, to mark their plot. To present everything that they think they have got. 

As the red curtains open, adults reduced to children, these shiny feline busts are one in a million. For good, for evil, they are put in the show, make or break their career, the voting will show. Some to become legends, accredited, prized. The others forgotten, shunned, put aside. It seems this inevitable struggle for worth will never reside. 

So it got me thinking, for what IS it worth? To spend a year of life digging your fingers through dirt? To fight to battle, to sneak and haggle, just to present a collaboration with a two minute video babble? Can it mean so much to put this award on the shelf? Is it really a prize, or recognition of self? Is it worth the poor mental health, the biting nails, and nights alone? Is it worth it to sit upon the socialite throne? 

In this philosophical questioning I am never alone. But the Cannes Lions festival I feel to purspone. Until we galvanise communities, create real change, before another gathering of putrid congratulations is arranged. Its surreal to see so many faces, who talk so much and say so little. To see arguments so fickle and egos so brittle. To see all the tat masked by tittle. 

I do understand that wanting for more, the gravitas, fame, your name on the floor. But I’ve worked out something about opening doors. It’s the kings who guard the gates. The pawns offer more. And they have a finite amount of time before the ticks cease tocking. Age is inevitable and that fear will keep us knocking.

These Lions mean more than pride. These Lions are more than predators. They are a symbol of life’s worth from our creative predecessors.

I want a pencil that can write and more lions in the wild,

Truthfully yours,

Max’s inner child