Callanish A.V.R

Production

Callanish Camping Pods – Our Creative Basecamp on Lewis

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No film production runs smoothly without a place to rest, reset, and recharge — and during our shoot on the Isle of Lewis, we were lucky enough to find the perfect base at the Callanish Camping Pods.

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Nestled just a short walk from the iconic Callanish Stones and overlooking the tranquil waters of Loch Roag, the pods became our home away from home. Each was thoughtfully equipped with an electric kettle, microwave, and cool box — the essentials for any filmmaker needing to refuel between long days on location.

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Just nearby, a shared kitchen, toilet, and shower pod provided everything else we needed. The kitchen even served as an impromptu recording studio for Demain during our stay — proving that inspiration can strike anywhere, especially in such a peaceful and creatively charged setting.

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Huge thanks to Cathy, who runs the pods with warmth and generosity. She made us feel instantly welcome and supported throughout the project.

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With their unbeatable proximity to the Stones, the pods gave us the freedom to rise before dawn, shoot into the golden hour, and stay out under the stars without ever watching the clock. It was the ideal launchpad for our creative journey.

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Production Notes: Crafting Callanish Audio Visual Research

Visual Approach

Callanish A.V.R. was filmed using a Nizo Professional S8mm camera with an adapted 180° fish-eye lens, mounted on a sturdy tripod to authentically capture the mystique of the Isle of Lewis. A mix of handheld, stabilised, one-stop exposures, and time-lapse techniques mirrored the shifting perspectives of the Callanish Stones.

A selection of Kodak film stocks—Vision 3 200/500 colour negative, black & white reversal, and hand-processed Kodachrome 40—gave the film its distinct visual character. Professional processing and digital scanning by On8mil blended analogue textures with modern clarity.

Special Effects & Postproduction

Painterly sequences were crafted by applying watercolour ink and household chemicals to clear S8mm leader film, evoking the lunar cycles tied to the stones. In postproduction, VFX and colour grading refined the imagery, enhancing depth while staying true to the film’s raw aesthetic.

Analogue Meets Digital

A balance was struck between analogue origins and digital refinement, bridging ancient landscapes with contemporary storytelling. The goal was to honour the organic beauty of film while embracing modern tools to elevate the final visual experience.

 

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Production Notes: Crafting Callanish Audio Visual Research

Capturing Sound

The film’s audio was recorded using a Zoom field recorder, capturing the natural sounds of the Isle of Lewis and the resonant tones of a Goya classical guitar. Played conventionally or percussively with found objects, the guitar also became an Aeolian Harp, left in open tuning to be played by the wind—an organic collaboration between music and nature.

Studio Processing

Back in the studio, recordings were enhanced with effects pedals and outboard processing—phaser, flanger, reverb, and delay—adding depth and atmosphere. Additional layers of percussion and synthesiser enriched the sonic landscape, blending organic textures with modern production techniques.

Blending Nature & Sound

By merging field recordings with experimental guitar work, the soundtrack became an extension of the landscape itself—integral to the film’s immersive, atmospheric experience.

 

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The Return and the Anticipation

Like a fine cask whisky, this project has had a long time to distill.

Returning from Callanish in 2015 was an adjustment—a decompression from the raw, ancient landscape of the Isle of Lewis back to the structured, bustling life of London. But amidst the noise of the city, there was an undercurrent of anticipation. I had carried back with me rolls of film—fragile, precious documents of my experience at the Callanish Stones—and now I waited, eager to see if the journey had been captured the way I had envisioned.

Months passed before I could afford to develop the film. I had decided early on that On8mil, a relatively new company at the time, would be the best place for scanning and processing. They had an impressive new projector and scanning method, far superior to my previous experiences elsewhere. More than just a service provider, On8mil was a space where film enthusiasts could get lost in conversations about the craft, the technology, and the magic of analogue media. It was the perfect choice for handling the footage of my Callanish pilgrimage.

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I had shot two rolls of Kodak Vision 3 200T colour negative, one roll of Tri-X black and white reversal, and a roll of Kodak Kodachrome 40—old stock from the 1990s. The latter was a gamble; the film was over 20 years out of date, and there was a significant chance that it wouldn’t develop properly. The colour negatives and black and white film were sent to On8mil, while I took on the challenge of developing the Kodachrome 40 myself, with the help of a friend.

When the films were finally developed and scanned, I was relieved to find they had come out beautifully. Each roll had a distinct character: the Tri-X black and white film captured the moody atmosphere of overcast days with stark contrasts and rich textures; the Kodak Vision 3 rolls rendered the ever-changing light of the Hebrides with a stunning range of colour and depth; and, miraculously, the old Kodachrome had survived the years, emerging with chaotic textures and distinctive blue tones—a product of the experimental processing technique we had used. It was flawed, unpredictable, and utterly captivating. I knew then that the footage held something special.

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The Structure Takes Shape

With the scanned footage in hand, I began the process of reviewing and organising the scenes. Grouping them by time of day and location, I found a natural rhythm emerging: the landscapes surrounding Callanish in the early morning, the satellite stone circles standing as silent sentinels, and the heart of the main site, shot over multiple days in varying conditions. But something was missing. The visuals were compelling, but without sound, the structure of the film remained elusive.

Recognising the importance of sound in shaping the film’s final form, I made the decision to put editing on hold until I had an audio component to work with. In the meantime, I began experimenting with analogue special effects. Inspired by the idea that the Callanish Stones had been partially buried by millennia of wind-blown peat and debris, I wanted to visually represent the passage of time and the elemental forces that had shaped the site. Using clear film leader, I applied paint in splattered patterns, swirled it in a bowl to mimic a storm, and scratched its surface to create chaotic, organic textures. Once these experiments were complete, I sent them off for scanning, unsure yet how they would fit into the film’s final form.

 

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The Sound of Time

During this period of waiting, Demian, my collaborator, took on the task of creating the film’s soundscape. We had little communication about its direction beyond the agreed-upon length of 45 to 50 minutes—akin to a long-play (LP) album. I trusted him completely to interpret the experience of Callanish through sound, allowing him to shape the sonic narrative in his own way.

While Demian worked, I immersed myself in research. The Callanish Stones, aligned with lunar cycles and ancient celestial patterns, held layers of meaning that I wanted to explore further. I delved into the works of Margaret Curtis, Julian Cope, and Alexander Thom, expanding my understanding of the site’s Neolithic history and cosmic significance. The more I read, the deeper the project became—not just a film, but an exploration of time, ritual, and landscape.

By late 2016, Demian had completed six tracks. Each had its own distinct mood and intensity, ranging from rhythmic shamanic chanting to celestial strings and processed drones. As I listened, I began to see the shape of the edit forming before me.

 

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Cutting the Vision

Demian had given me six tracks, making it clear they had no fixed order or sequence. Meanwhile, I had already been experimenting with the structure of the footage—grouping scenes by the time of day they were shot. It felt natural to shape the film’s timeline around the movement of light: beginning with wide shots of the surrounding landscape at dawn, gradually drawing closer to the Callanish Stones as the day progressed, and by nightfall, standing within the heart of the circle, fully immersed in its presence. This journey—from morning to night—became the film’s backbone, guiding both its visual and sonic progression.

With this structure in place, I set out to match each track to a specific phase of the day, weaving together an immersive odyssey through Callanish.

The first track, "Orbit," retained its original title, acting as the gateway to the journey. It captured the approach—moving through the rugged terrain and past the satellite stone circles that orbit the main site. From the outset, I knew this track was the perfect entry point, setting the tone for the unfolding experience.

Next came "Dawn," originally titled Detuning Guitar. Its moody, ominous energy aligned perfectly with my time-lapse footage of sunrise—a stark, powerful awakening that heightened the raw, untamed presence of the landscape.

The third track, "Dancing Dead," one of the longest compositions, had a slow build and rhythmic crescendo, mirroring the ritualistic approach toward the main circle. It felt as though the music itself was drawing the viewer into the site’s gravitational pull, reinforcing the sense of Callanish as  a place of gathering and a portal to something beyond time.

 

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A Celestial Departure

The fourth track, "Lunar" (originally Spanish Vibes), introduced a distinct ethereal quality. Unlike the others, it felt like a passage into another realm—quiet, womb-like, protective. A cave of glistening wonder, removed from the everyday world.

I knew this sequence had to be abstract, something that momentarily distanced the audience from the stone circle. Initially, I considered using it to reflect weather patterns and the passage of time, but the music itself suggested something deeper—something almost timeless.

Experimenting with color grading, I first leaned into earthy tones, before ultimately choosing a negative effect, which transformed the footage into something dreamlike, as if catching the reflection of the moon in water. From here, an idea emerged—to depict the moon cycling through its phases, from New Moon to Waning Moon and back again.

Blending this imagery with painted film experiments led to the film’s transcendental moment—a pause between worlds, lifting us into the heavens before gently returning us to the earth.