COLLABORATIVE KEYNOTE
ANIMATION PROJECT

CHAPTER ONE

now…

‘If you’re reading this, then it’s probably already too late.’ A phrase often put into words by those who find themselves at end’s tether. A phrase an orangutan finds himself muttering right at this very moment in time. A phrase that can only be equal to the poignant downfall of what was once home for him. 

‘Keep your chin up,’ they say, ‘take the bad with the good, take the rough with the smooth, make the best of things.’ Expressions like these are spoken far too freely, too often, too naively. Expressions like these were no good to the orangutan’s ears. After all, the signs were all there and had been for quite some time. 

As the sun gently begins to peer over the top of the surrounding mountains, it is as if it hesitates, nervous about what it may cast its light onto. Uncertain as to what it may unveil as it awakens and illuminates potential desolation. Anxious about presenting to the Gods in the sky the actions of the Guardians of Earth. For the Gods, the creators, the architects of life blessed these lands and gave opportunity to the living to exist, breathe and to face challenge in order to strengthen and give us drive. Alas, the humans could not fulfil their responsibilities of taking care of their planet. Let down and ashamed, the Gods' backs have now turned.

Bleak, arid and barren, through the glowing mist, nothing but the aftermath of their efforts can be witnessed. Miles of forests, oceans of shades of green, a wealth of tranquility now severely wounded by the hands and the demands of those who already have what they need. 

‘Why?’ Thought the orangutan, clutching to one of only few lifeless trees still standing, acting as tombstones to remember what was once before. Eyes glazed over, sorrow and tiredness was pictured across his face; his emotions were low as disturbed air cloaked his matted hair amidst the destruction. All he could feel was the warm tear leaving a trail down this cheek as he gazed numbingly into the new image of his future.

Trembling, the orangutan slowly turned his head as a shimmer  of emerald, triggered by a single ray of sunlight escaping the mist, caught his eye. The more he stared at it, the more fixated he became on the memories of his serene home.

then…

To merely say ‘It was different back then’ does not do it enough justice and the sentiment of a wish you were here style postcard would only give you a single glimpse of what you would be missing out on. Unfortunately, I can no longer vividly recall every exact impression of the forests and the imprint seems to have faded somewhat given the trauma suffered here. I do however remember one thing that is for certain: the orangutan felt safe. My lasting memory of him before the recent series of events unfolded was one that will never leave me: it was in mid July, the peak of the season of splendour, where the days were dry and in an abundance of sunshine. It was bliss. 

Sumatra stood spectacular from above, a sea of lime blanketed both the mountains and the lower regions, stretching out towards the oceans, as far as the eyes could see. Even the gentlest of breezes, sweeping through the island, caused each and every individual leaf upon each and every individual tree to ever so gently swivel. Just enough so that they gave a little flicker. The sea of green scales glistened under the intense brightness of the summer sun, as if a shoal of fish swam from one end of the island to the other. Delicately and gracefully, the songs from a morning flight of drongos coming into land amongst the tree tops could be subtly heard: seeming as though they were fishing for the first catch of the day, carefully picking out their target before slowing up their paths and diving in.

Beneath the tree tops, dangling in vines latched onto the branches that overlooked the dense forest floor, the orangutan swayed in the light wind catching fragments of light in his hand that pierced through the occasional openings in the trees. 

As he rocked back and fourth, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock, there was an underlying sense of irony with the current unknowing of the state of his home ticking away. Rightly so, how was he ever to know that the future of his homeland was being decided upon by humans, by the so called Guardians?

Strenuously, the orangutan laid a hand across his eyes: it was rather too bright for him to be able to withstand the sunlight, which he enjoyed trying to catch earlier that morning. As the rest of the morning gradually transitioned into noon, the change in day was as leisurely as the organutan’s start to it. He approached the decision to make his way down to the forest floor with ease, as more often than not decisions were tricky business. Decisions took effort and effort meant that the orangutan had to do something. Not just doing something but doing anything was the greatest hardship of his days. 

Advancing through the verdant rainforest floor, the dense humidity swept through the wild undergrowth as the orangutan moved forward: weaving in and out of a complex environment. No matter where he looked, beautifully intricate flowers, overflowing with copious colour illuminated his surroundings even beneath the shadows cast by majestically tall trees encased in a veil of rich lichen.

The sounds of neighbouring inhabitants could be heard, chattering in their own tongues as he approached the elegant body of water in front of him. This was the essence of tranquility. Despite roaring, pounding water on the rocks on the far side of the lagoon, what was presented at the orangutan’s feet was a heavenly spectacle of pure wonder. Crystalline waters laid peacefully: only slightly interrupted by the wake of the cascade, which lifted a pleasant cloud of mist.

It felt a shame to disturb the calmness of the pool as it embraced the sun, proudly welcoming its rays: allowing for a hypnotic display of scattering light, glimmering as it travelled through its body striking its surface. 

Now, as a general rule of thumb, the orangutan would normally stay well clear of such environments, unknowing as to what predator might be lurking beneath. But, given the fact that the waters were so clear, this was an opportunity not to be missed. He crept towards the waters edge on all fours and gradually immersed himself, causing faint ripples to unravel across the surface. His hair delicately floated, each strand dancing the most beautiful aquatic dance unhidden in the crystal-clear fluidity. The serenity of an orangutan bathing in the lagoon on that day caused thoughts of hope, of a dream for the continuing future for the forests.

Now, the landscape that was once a masterpiece of nature’s design is surrounded by extinction. You see, it was not always this way and new generations that are born into this depleting and barbarous world are only to become less knowledgeable of  the impact that the Guardians have had as the years go by. To the point that their cultural understandings will have become so altered that a time when nature thrived will become  unknown.