Walter Forsyth, ex-executive director. Credit: photo Aaron Mckenzie Fraser

Two-year-old Sage Forsyth has the same dark grey eyes and
curly red hair as her dad. In Walter Forsyth’s office in the CBC
building on Sackville, she sits on his lap, watching Sesame
Street
on his laptop. The executive director of the Atlantic
Filmmakers’ Cooperative says he doesn’t often let her watch movies or
TV; Elmo is a rare treat.

“We try not to expose her to too much,” he says. “I just don’t like
the idea of fast cuts. I show her some surf videos every now and then
because I’m an avid surfer, and she loves watching surfing.”

Since he gave notice a year ago that he would be leaving his job at
AFCOOP, Forsyth has been less worried about what Sage watches and more
worried about how he’s going to provide for her in the future. Co-op
member for 15 years and executive director for 10, Forsyth says it’s
time for him to move on.

“I have to leave my job because I don’t get paid enough to do it,”
Forsyth says bluntly. “I think everybody here is underpaid, way
underpaid, and (have) delivered and tried really hard to deliver some
awesome programs.”

It’s a challenge every non-profit faces: AFCOOP, member-run and
proudly non-commercial, needs to put as much money as possible into its
mission of encouraging independent filmmaking, while still paying
administrative staff. “It’s not super sexy,” he says, but it’s the
truth.

“It’s kind of like Greenpeace,” he jokes, with a decent attempt at a
stereotypical hippie voice. “Oh, all the money they get just goes to
running the place and they don’t have any money left to do the good
stuff!”

But Forsyth wasn’t always so concerned about the paycheque. He got
involved with AFCOOP to help bring in funding with his business wisdom
and grant-writing skills, and has since become one of the most
connected people in the local film community.

Fifteen years ago, the then-unknown filmmaker hit it off with AFCOOP
when he rented some equipment from the co-op to make a music video for
“Tropical” by Plum Tree (a band on his Cinnamon Toast Records label).
He directed and filmed a dirt-cheap sequence in which band members pull
on black balaclavas to go sledding, but end up robbing a corner store
for a bag of chips. It was his first video to garner airtime on
MuchMusic and a screening at the Atlantic Film Festival.

Forsyth continued renting equipment from the co-op for experimental
music videos. Back then, AFCOOP lived on Barrington where Chives now
resides. Forsyth remembers the old office vividly; the desk drawers
were brimming with empty beer bottles and the ancient fridge contained
frost-covered film stock and a cup of yogurt. So he rolled up his
sleeves and volunteered to clean and paint the place.

Five years of membership later, the position of executive director
became available. Forsyth took the job, excited for the opportunity to
network. He planned to stay on for a maximum of two years. “If I look
back at when I was super keen at this job, I’m not any more. It’s time
for me to move on.”

As he speaks, Sage sits on the floor, covertly emptying his cupboard
of its contents: every single staple, business card and roll of tape.
Then she builds a messy metropolis on the carpet. The rest of the
cupboards and shelves will have to be emptied too, before her dad
leaves on July 1, although his replacement hasn’t been hired yet.

So far, Forsyth doesn’t have a plan. He hopes to become an
independent filmmaker while maintaining his downtown gelato shop, Dio
Mio. With three films in the development stages, he says he just needs
one to go into production and he won’t be sweating so badly.

“Right now I have no idea how I’m going to earn a living after I
leave here. As a filmmaker it’s not easy. I guess I’m just more scared
than sad. I think it’ll all work out, but who knows. It’s
freelance.”

The short films and couple of features he’s produced and directed
might fill one DVD, so Forsyth wants to build his body of work. He’s
working on a child plastic surgery documentary; a quirky dark comedy
about two guys who have to steal each other’s kidneys; and another
feature, The Disappeared.

“When I leave here and go and make films I want to tell relevant
stories that will impact people and make them think about their lives.”

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