Issue 00 — Spring 2025
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Anaïs Emery on why festivals should be unfettered spaces for creative experimentation
The Geneva International Film Festival was one of the first festivals in Europe to embrace immersive experiences and introduce them to the public already a decade ago. Leading the organisation today, Anaïs discusses her commitment to widening access to storytelling tools and supporting daring, independent productions in a rapidly changing technological landscape.
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GALLERY
In addition to her other involvements, Anaïs is a member of both the Swiss Film Academy and the Foundation for Digital Creation.
GIFF is known to be a platform for moving image artists and professionals to test new forms of storytelling. Could you tell us more about your mission?
AE GIFF has never chased trends. I’ve always seen the festival as a platform for experimentation, not just to present the latest tech. What matters, in my view, is how new technologies can be used by artists — how they can be democratised and integrated into their creative process.
Cinema is a technological art: even in its most classical forms, it relies on machines. That remains the same. What’s changing is the language, and artists need to be part of that shift, on their own terms. VR, XR, AI — these aren’t just passing trends, they are part of the evolution of the language of moving image-making.
I don’t see technology as something above creators. If only a few big studios or commercial brands master certain tools, we lose artistic agency. Our mission is to protect this.
If only a few big studios or commercial brands master certain tools, we lose artistic agency.
This is also reflected in how you push the boundaries of the festival format, which extends to different venues and beyond the days of the event. How do these multiple architectures interact?
AE Since I joined in 2021, we’ve been reinventing our structure. We didn’t have a fixed exhibition venue at first, and that was a challenge. But it also gave us some freedom.
What we’ve built since then is more than a venue. Within the festival site we’ve created Virtual Territories — a 900 square meter exhibition space dedicated to immersive works. We didn’t want to simply present VR experiences in isolated boxes — we integrated them as part of a whole, designed exhibition. And it’s not hidden away. It’s right at the heart of the festival, both literally and symbolically.
I believe it’s important that audiences coming for films are also drawn to the immersive section, that they see these new audiovisual forms as part of our core programme, not as an add-on. This makes us quite different from other festivals.
Outside of our venue we also sometimes take over unique, unexpected spaces across the city — as in our collaboration with the Swiss ensemble Contre-Champs, where we are transforming a Protestant church into a VR concert hall.
And then we have our nomadic spaces. The idea of travelling ‘pods’ for VR experiences came from working with institutions, especially those without the infrastructure to host these types of artwork. Many places lacked proper conditions — too noisy, not adaptable — so we created simple, self-contained environments that protect artworks and the experience.
VR requires a ritual — a specific approach and immersion that changes with each piece. Immersion doesn’t start with a headset, it starts with how you’re invited in. The VR experience in itself is a form of personal architecture.
Having said that, investing in creating these experiences is a double-edge sword. People often ask me why we show VR if it hasn’t become a widely used mode of expression. Personally, I’m not worried about the headset — it will evolve, maybe even disappear. What matters is who understands the language. It’s crucial that independent artists can explore virtual and interactive tools. Technology isn’t really the point. It’s about the evolving language of audiovisual storytelling. We create space to experiment now to be ready for what’s next.
Technology isn’t really the point. It’s about the evolving language of audiovisual storytelling. We need to experiment now to be ready for what’s next.
What is your audience telling you? Are they curious about immersive productions, or sensitive to the politics of these technologies?
AE In a recent audience survey we found that one in two festival visitors experienced the Virtual Territories section for the first time. There’s a lot of curiosity, but also hesitation. When the technology is visible — like when you need to write a prompt — some people, especially those outside digital ecosystems, may be discouraged from engaging.
I’d love for people to feel freer with technology, to break the idea that it’s magical or out of reach. It’s human-made, and you can interact with it.
Of course, access isn’t equal. There are still visible social gaps. You see it clearly with kids: some grow up inside digital cultures, it’s second nature to them, while others encounter them for the first time during a school visit to the festival.
There’s also a lot of curiosity around META headsets. Sometimes I’m asked “how can an independent artist’s work live on such a commercial device?” And that’s something we care deeply about. With immersive tech, you often have access to commercial content — that more often than not comes from the U.S. — but not necessarily to independent stories or works of artistic imagination. I see how surprised people are when they discover a French or Swiss production and realise, “Oh, we do that here too.” It’s still changing, becoming more democratic, but some people are still amazed by what artists can do with this language.
Your work is also important to help develop artistic practices and create opportunities for collaborations across the industry. What role does the festival play in developing the audiovisual ecosystem in Switzerland and beyond?
AE First of all, we connect artists with audiences. Virtual Territories is open to the general public. And that means artists receive real feedback — not just from curators, but from a wider audience. That kind of contact is incredibly valuable.
We also work closely with universities — art and design schools in Geneva and Lausanne — to connect students with both professionals and the public. I think it’s important that art students engage with audiences early.
And we collaborate nationally with institutions like the Fondation pour la création numérique, where we’re a founding member, and internationally with groups like Swissfilm, bringing our ecosystem — and its questions — to Cannes, Venice, Beijing, and other festivals around the world.
Collaboration is essential. I see GIFF as a constellation, not just a festival. In recent years, it has been especially crucial to rebuild connections after the pandemic, and reflect collectively on where we’re headed. Some ties were broken and needed to be rebuilt. It’s a key moment: there are so many possibilities, but also big challenges.
What directions are you exploring for this year’s edition of GIFF?
AE We’ve never been afraid to blur the lines. When GIFF started, it was already controversial — showing films made for cinema and for television side by side, giving both the same level of attention. We showed our first VR piece in 2015, and launched a competition the very next year.
Since then, we’ve kept moving — with no ties to specific media. No “technological religion,” as I sometimes say. We’re never loyal to the tool, only to the creative narrative behind it.
After the 30th edition, this year we’re exploring the intersection between immersive technology and contemporary music. We’re working with a collective of composers who are creating new pieces inside virtual reality. At the festival, you’ll be able to experience these pieces in a headset — but also live, in real time.
We’re also continuing our work with installations, experiments where audiences co-create with AI. Some will be accessible directly from your phone. Because we urgently need to re-enchant the mobile phone. Not just treat it as a productivity tool, but as a space for creative play.
We’re never loyal to the tools — only to the creative narrative behind them.
Beyond 2025, what are the most significant challenges that festivals should be ready for?
AE It’s not easy to predict what the next few years will look like. Obviously, funding is a big area of debate. It’s not that festivals want money just to stay secure: they need it to retain their freedom as spaces of experimentation. A festival should be a place where artists can take more risks than in more commercial contexts. Without financial backing, we’re forced to follow trends — and from my point of view, that’s not what GIFF is about. I would like to protect that freedom.
Also, this conversation is happening at a historically important moment. Right now, things are shifting in Switzerland when it comes to production support. In French-speaking Switzerland, we have Cineforum, a fund that supports production. The City of Geneva and the Fondation pour la création numérique now have funding calls and a gap financing program. In German-speaking Switzerland, things are still developing — Zurich is working on an incentive scheme more focused on video games. Within the next two years, a redefined funding landscape could emerge. So we’ll see some change — for the better, I hope. We’re all working on it. For instance, Switzerland hasn’t had a portal for immersive production, as France has. Support here has leaned more toward gaming or innovation more broadly, not specifically VR or XR. So we’re catching up, and a new system is under construction.
The other important challenge is understanding how technologies are evolving. They offer possibilities, yes, but I think — more importantly — the audiovisual world needs new stories, and new ways of telling them. Younger generations are losing interest in standard productions. If we want to keep them engaged, we have to tell stories differently. But I worry that these technologies will be hijacked as marketing tools instead of staying open to artists. So access is also something we need to protect.
And then there’s the issue of maintaining interest in art itself. With AI we know there’s a serious issue around IP. People sometimes forget that the algorithms generating those images are trained on work made by artists — artists who are often unpaid in that process. That needs to be talked about, openly and widely, with all the stakeholders. The audience, too, should understand that being an artist is a real profession. It takes training. It means having something to communicate that lays the foundation of a creative practice.
The industry also needs to understand how audiences are changing, and how that impacts storytelling. Everyone now has their own audiovisual ecosystem — their own way of watching, engaging, consuming content. That’s a huge shift from 40 years ago, when there was one system for everyone. It brings opportunities, but we need to adapt. Storytelling has to evolve.
Every time a small, independent production brings something unexpected to GIFF, it resonates. And that’s ultimately what matters to me: holding space for stories that haven’t been told yet.