The tragic death of director Jhoan Camitz two months ago in New York ended a budding, yet already accomplished, career. In a relatively short time, the 38-year-old had made an indelible mark on commercialmaking. From a professional perspective, one can’t help but think about what he might have done in the years to come. His family and friends, though, have found what they believe is an appropriate way to help keep his spirit alive, while at the same time attaining a sense of completion—and closure—for their comrade. They have established a memorial fund to help finish a project, outside the filmmaking arena, that was near and dear to the director’s heart.
That sizeable project is the M/S Stjernorp, a 110-foot steamship built in the 1870s. Camitz bought the ship in 1994 and spent considerable time restoring it to its greatness of yesteryear, working closely with his father and brothers. The Stjernorp became a wonderful obsession for him, with painstaking attention to detail that paralleled his work in film. He had made considerable progress in restoring the vessel, which is currently docked in Stockholm. But much work remained to be done at the time of his passing.
"What he was really looking forward to, after years of restoration, was to sail his boat with his family, with his girlfriend, with his friends. And that was what he was coming home for this summer when he was taken from us," relates Maria Tamander, founder/executive producer of Moma, a Stockholm-based boutique production company. Earlier Camitz and Tamander were partners in now defunct MOD:film, a leading Stockholm production house, where she helped to develop his directorial career.
"It therefore seemed only fitting to set up a memorial fund to complete the boat, to start chartering her to generate funds," continues Tamander. "Once a year on a memorial day, those of us who loved him will gather to give a scholarship to a young, up-and-coming filmmaker—a new Jhoan, perhaps."
Camitz’s family also plans to offer the restored Stjernorp to charitable organizations for use in their fund-raising activities. Tamander estimates that another $100,000 and approximately five months of work are needed to return the ship to its glory days, as envisioned by Camitz.
The memorial fund has been set up at a Stockholm bank: Handelsbanken, P.O. Box 5238, SE-102 45 Stockholm, Sweden. For those interested in wiring a contribution, the account number is 6110-121 659 992, and the swift address is HANDSESS.
BODY OF WORK
Beyond raising money so that Camitz’s ship can come in, friends and colleagues also are left with fond remembrances, and with a remarkable body of work to help fuel those memories.
Camitz initially established himself in European advertising. However, he made a major stateside splash shortly after signing with bicoastal Satellite for U.S. representation in late ’97. Among his first American spots were "Meat," "Marathon Man" and "Rejection," part of Nike’s "What Are You Getting Ready For?" campaign in ’98, via Wieden+Kennedy (W+K), Portland, Ore. Collectively, these commercials teamed with four others to win a Gold Lion in the shoe and apparel campaign category at the ’99 Cannes International Advertising Festival. Additionally, "Meat" was honored with an individual Gold Lion, and much of his Nike work scored impressively at numerous other award competitions. The Nike fare helped bicoastal/international Propaganda Films and sister company Satellite win the Palme d’Or at Cannes in ’99.
Chuck McBride, a creative director at Wieden+Kennedy at the time, worked closely with Camitz on the breakthrough Nike work. McBride, who now serves as executive creative director at TBWA/Chiat/Day, San Francisco, describes Camitz as "a brilliant individual; a bright light in terms of a director to work with. He contributed funny, offbeat ideas, and at heart was a contrarian. He’d look at things from a different perspective, would suggest the opposite to generate new ideas and approaches. He was one of the very best, and will sorely be missed."
McBride says he will also miss Camitz’s sense of humor, recalling an occasion when the two pretended to be at odds during a shoot. It was a practical joke in which they conspired in order to, laughs McBride, "get [Steve] Dickstein," who at the time was president of Propaganda (and is now president of bicoastal/international Partizan). "We made it come off like we [Jhoan and I] were in the biggest tiff," relates McBride. "Steve bought it hook, line and sinker. I
