By Glendon McKinney

I am a lucky man. Jon Collicott was my close friend, co-worker, co-teacher, and sometimes co-conspirator. He came into my life unobtrusively, but would change it and me for the better through the 23 years of our friendship.

After many years living in Toronto, I returned to my home province of New Brunswick and settled in Fredericton in 2001. I had grazed the edges of the film community in Toronto, where I designed and constructed props for some productions, and wanted nothing to do with it due to the dog-eat-dog feel: remember the scene in “Showgirls” where she pushes her rival down the stairs? Something like that. So when I saw the New Brunswick Film Co-op, where instead of competition it was about working together, I joined. I was assigned my first production, as a common PA, for Tim O’Neills’ film “Unseen Enemy”. Much to my surprise, I was assigned the role of Production and Costume design at the second meeting, which I threw myself into with something like a mania. Jon was one of the actors on that film, and during production, during our ‘down’ times, when we weren’t needed on the set, we sat on the back of the equipment truck, drinking dour coffee and smoking and getting to know each other. Jon mentioned a film he loved, “The Long Day Closes” by Terence Davies, and right then our first bond was made. I loved that film passionately. It is not a big film in any way, might be called an ‘arthouse’ feature, but Davies creates a world in the film which I loved and felt deeply attached to and here was Jon saying pretty much the same thing. As designer I also noted that he was the only person who asked questions about various props and set dressings I had introduced after researching the context of the film (three Canadian airmen crash landed in Germany during the Second World War - a challenge on a small budget). Curiosity: a key element of film making and of our friendship.

I began working on various films, whilst Jon and I continued to hang out and just get to know each other, sharing the stories of our lives. Jon had already been involved with both fiction film, making a short, ‘Pale Blue Glass”, as well as shooting for documentaries. Jon wasn’t one to trumpet his achievements, so these activities emerged slowly as we got to know each other.

I took on making a film of my own, “They Only Come Out at Night”, about a lonely vampire looking for companionship. Being a person with definite ideas for visuals, I also designed the costumes and sets for the film. Jon was to shoot it for me, in 16mm. This is where our relationship bloomed, as we pored over many images of Romantic art and discussed the heightened and stylized lighting I desired. During the shoot, I saw what Jon could do, which exceeded my imagination: he took the baton and ran with it. I was thrilled to screen the rushes, seeing the world I had hoped to evoke visualized by Jons’ lighting and cinematography. He rose to and met any challenge I put to him: any problems with the film are of my own making.

From here, we both moved ahead, working on films individually until he asked me to design the sets and costumes for his World War Two short, ‘A Song for the Homefront”. Another period piece, a challenge on a limited budget, but by then I recognized that we shared a dedication to perfection, or coming as close to it as we could. Jon threw himself into the project, and I strived to achieve what he wanted. The shoot was a challenge, fighting time in access to certain locations, which needed a lot of redressing, and -only for Jon!- I worked 36 hours straight through one weekend shoot. To work with him, talk through the film scene by scene, exchanging ideas and questions, was my satisfaction, endeavouring to create his vision for the film in the way he did for mine.

Then began our work together on documentary projects for Lloyd Salmone, the first being ‘Anthony Flower - Portrait of a Country Artist’. I was multitasking on that project, doing design work and sound for some scenes. There I got to watch Jons’ talents as a doc shooter, which requires the ability to anticipate where the camera should be looking even as events unfolded before him. Shooting the opening of the Anthony Flower exhibit at the Beaverbrook Art Gallery, I was tethered to him by the umbilical cord of the sound recorder, whilst making sure Jon didn’t back up and fall down the stairs! He was absolutely in his element, walking us through the exhibit and all the people in attendance. It was another skill of Jons I hadn’t seen before, and I was very impressed: it was way beyond my abilities.

A couple of years later, we shot ‘Sitansisk - the Lights of Saint Marys’ a documentary which became an emotional shoot for us as the Saint Marys’ community welcomed us so warmly; because of their trust, forJon this was an especially important film to get right. Of that shoot, more later…

We also made another of my films, ‘The Apostles of Beauty’, about the visit of Oscar Wilde to Fredericton, where he met the poet Charles G.D. Roberts. For that film I was referencing Victorian daguerrotypes. Jon and I studied hundreds of portraits, intrigued by the fact that they are without shadow, creating a sharp image which also has a dreamlike feel to it. Jon once again took the challenge and he and his crew outdid themselves. In the large room at the top of Charlotte St. Arts Centre, where we shot the film, Jon hung a massive silk from the ceiling, then after we bought dozens of China balls, he lit the actors all indirectly, through paper, and there, in colour, was exactly what I had hoped for. I was thrilled and still am so when I look at what he achieved.

During all this time our friendship remained and deepened as our lives crossed: I made a Pink Panther costume for his young daughter for Hallowe’en, and a Zorro costume for Jon ( I went as Lucifer, which many considered typecasting). We became teachers at the now-defunct Davinci College, where we developed a film program. The first couple of years were rough, as we found our bearings, Jon as department head, but soon we had a good and strong program going, combining technique with art, our disciplines intermingling, as they do in film. It was a thrill to teach these young people, introducing them to ideas they’d never heard of, and when a student flourished, it made us proud. At the beginning, I was uneasy, as I’d given workshops for the Co-op before, but this was a whole year of classes! So I sat in at the back of Jons’ classes and watched to see how to convey information and get them thinking. It came so easily to Jon, and much later I learned that not only his mother and father were both teachers but so was one of his sisters. Jon just ‘had it in him’. He was much liked by the students, and the fact that, fifteen years later, some of them came to Jons’ “Celebration of Life” is testament to his skills as a teacher.

We still shared our curiousity: one exercise we did constantly was to study a film, or a scene from a film, in depth. Constantly we alerted each other to innovations in storytelling and visuals. Films we shared an especial love of, and rewatched constantly, are “2046” by Wong Kar Wei, “Blade Runner” by Ridley Scott, “The Scarlet Empress” by Josef Von Sternberg and “Grizzly Man” by Werner Herzog. Jon shared materials on cameras and lighting with me, I shared pieces on production and costume design with him. We both knew we never stopped learning.

Students were involved in some projects: what better way to learn than to participate in a shoot? Jons’ big project was “Heavenly Gifts”, a silent musical (yep!) which took an enormous amount of planning and work from all involved. There wasn’t enough time or money of course, but is that ever not a problem? It’s still being worked on as a matter of fact and I hope you’ll see it soon. We also crafted a short comedy, “Curtain Call’ which I directed and designed, where Jon showed the students how to conceal lights on a very tight location, something which is also a necessary skill.

I need to mention the people, our friends, with whom he worked and who made our lives and shoots better: Roberta Nixon, our wonderful production manager, Starsky Stewart, who recorded and mixed sound, Rodrigo Gutierrez Hemelo, who always came with joy to a shoot and who shot and cut so well, and Jeremy Robinson, who was our unobtrusive and always-prepared sound recordist. Oh, and so many more! These kind and talented people helped Jon to put his worlds on screen, whether a fiction or a documentary project. Tony Merzetti and especially Cathie LeBlanc at the Co-op were there for advice and help in steering projects through the whole process.

In the middle of a shoot, solving problems was an exciting challenge to be met, and one we have to do as film makers: on “Night’ we had a night shoot involving two locations, for which I had hired a generator for one location. We went over at the first location and realizing how we couldn’t afford the time to pack up, move, then unload and shoot, Jon grabbed me and we walked around the first location, discussing needs as we sought where we could shoot. Within fifteen minutes we found the spot, Jon lit it and off we went. (Though I still had to pay for that damned generator).

I am constantly amazed when I think that, in all those years, Jon and I never had a fight. Disagreements, yes, but we just couldn’t bring ourselves to hostilities. Jon was a patient man, he had to be when we worked together! But solving a problem or a disagreement was a lot easier than fighting. He taught me much about patience.

Without planning, without thought, he became part of my life and I of his, like the woven pattern in a fabric. We saw each other through good times and bad and just kept going. How quietly he changed my life and all for the good; I say that without exaggeration.

One last anecdote: we were shooting ‘Sitansisk’ and still needed to shoot the Christmas light displays at St. Marys. We tried at the end of one shooting day but the traffic was backed up due to people rubbernecking the lights, so that was a no go. We didn’t need sound, so one night Jon called and he and I went out to shoot very late. There was no traffic or people around, so we could set up in the middle of the street as we needed to. It was very cold: around minus 25, but we were both NB boys so we’d dressed properly. But the camera reacted to the subzero temperatures: we heard a strange grinding noise, so quickly Jon grabbed the camera and I the other equipment, and we retreated to the car. Jon sat, holding the camera like a baby, till it warmed up ( but not too much, so it wouldn’t fog the lens when we went out again). We shot for six hours, and we got some truly great footage, again testament to Jons’ great abilities as a cinematographer. We stopped off at Tim Hortons’ for coffee and the necessary post-shoot discussion (did we get what he needed? Anything else necessary to shoot?) Then he drove me back to my house, some time after two in the morning. He stopped the car and for a moment we just sat there, until we both burst into hysterical laughter. This, strange as it may seem, was exactly what we loved, working together regardless of conditions, to give something to the world.

Jon has passed and he took part of me with him. I owe him a great debt, for his friendship, his skills and dedication as an artist. Putting my life back together without his presence feels like trying to assemble a jigsaw puzzle with pieces missing. He was a gracious and gentle man, a good husband who was devoted to his children, was the best friend one could wish for, and a film maker of passion and dedication. I miss him every day.