11.29.06
Why I love (and hate) my creative nature
I think this article sums it up nicely…
11.28.06
Another industrial ugly morning - The factory belches filth into the sky…
Getting back into the ‘routine’ after such an amazing weekend is tough… The roomies, having suffered from so much neatness and politeness are slowly decomposing back into the fetid squalor, muscles relaxed from exercise and ale are crunching back into the hacker slouch, and of course no one in the habitat can fill up the damn Brita pitcher…
And especially after Sunday night’s jaunt with Ninjascott, and after talking about the ‘corporate downsleazing’ and my imminent unemployment, his eyes lit up and said, ‘Dude, I predict you will never work for anyone else, ever in your life.’ Which, due to its ambiguous nature, makes that statement one to clench the ol’ sphincter muscles…
But, interesting things always abound; I got an email from an amazing person I met at the pub months ago, she wants me to be an event photographer, and despite not having a remotely decent camera, and knowing nothing about photography in general, sure - what the hell. I can fake it good, and if anyone complains, hey - nobody asked me for any credentials.
But then again, no one asked me for any when I got the Special Effects gig, and it was so impressive that I’m being asked to do it again, at least twice, and this time around I’ve got the benefit of actually having done it before.
I guess that’s how life works - keep making it up as you go, until you screw up - fix it and begin it anew…
11.26.06
‘You got it. I’m an artist. I’ll watch the woman.’
“I don’t believe in total freedom for the artist. Left on his own, free to do anything he likes, the artist ends up doing nothing at all.
If there’s one thing that’s dangerous for an artist, it’s precisely this question of total freedom, waiting for inspiration and all the rest of it.”
Courtesy of Frederico Fellini.
Inspiration strikes again.
Friday we were paid a visit by the Smoothest and his blushing Brazilian wife, as well as some of his famiglia, namely Sister Sara and Cousin Lexi, as well as the Good Doctor Samvinho. We all settled into a few bottles of wine and caught up on the current events of life. DJ $ellout fired up the old laptop and had some of his pub buddies drop by, and without realizing it, we we’re in the midst of a full blown party.
I found myself chatting with Sara and Lexi as they gushed over my paintings, Sara berating me for selling a painting that she’s been coveting for years. Since it was sold, the only way we could show Lexi was to look at the stuff online. Which meant she and Sara spent an inordinate amount of time looking at my portfolio, analyzing it piece by piece. Lexi was fascinated by my ongoing series of ‘Hot Smoking women in Black & White’. I expressed some regrets, as I have been somewhat remiss in doing any painting for a while…
And she floors me by offering to pose.
During my day to day travels, I encounter a fairly good cross section of attractive women, who express a ‘half assed’ interest in posing for me, but Lexi was different, to the point of saying she’d stalk me if I didn’t call her - so after obtaining her number I swore that she’ll get a phone call within a week. Guess she’s serious about it.
By now, Sara who has been hinting that she’s hungry, starts grabbing people and announcing that she’ll start gnawing people’s fingers off if we don’t get food, asks me for a place we can go for food and drink. Hmmm. Tough one. So, I rally the troops, and lead them down to the Pub, thinking that the night after Turkey day, it should be fairly empty, and I can bring some biz to my favorite watering hole, and as we arrive, it looks perfect, plenty of available tables, the Director keeping watch over the waitresses, gossiping in the corner.
I leave the seating arrangements to the Smooth one, as I chat with the Director, who leads me to a table where Ninjascott and his wife Lydia are chatting with another couple, and since we haven’t seen each other since the Nantucket shoot, we’ve got some catching up to do. Its at this point The Smooth One announces that he can’t stay, the smell of cheese from the fondue is making his lame factor kick into overdrive and he has to depart before his chronic vaginal dryness kicks in, threatening us all with loud whining and petulance. I told the crew to call me as soon as they got somewhere (usually some grotty village pub with cheap tap beer) and really settled in (because the way the ladies were dressed, I quickly surmised that the grotty pub scenario would be unacceptable to the ladies, who wouldn’t appreciate sticky seats, lousy bathrooms and greasy buffalo wings), as I had some catching up to do with my film buddies.
The rest of the evening is spent, as per usual, discussing film, and the up and coming premiere of ‘Like a Springsteen Song’, which I am eager to see, as it is the project my film buddies were working on shortly before I joined the creative collective. And to cap it all off, when I’ve bid them farewell and wandered home to bed, DJ $ellout, working on his laptop informs that one of his guests expressed an interest in purchasing one of the paintings… It doesn’t get any better than that. Looks like I’m back in the painting gig…
11.19.06
Advertising
Well, I’m on the path to adding the marketing bullshit I so despise. Hopefully the extra income will help towards the ol’ bar tab and maybe some paints, seeing as how I haven’t picked up a brush in months…
11.16.06
Big Time - So much larger than life
Today I got my 1st sign of my new life.
I got my 1st paycheck as a filmmaker.
Granted it was only a few hundred bucks - but:
a) the money is needed
b) it will help reduce my debt a great deal
c) it was also get me a few creative toys to further my creative careers (namely a tablet so I can freehand draw in Photoshop instead of using the damn mouse.)
d) poppa needs some snazzy new shoes - and now I get to have them
But all in all, it was that none too subtle reminder of what makes me tick - I’m currently reading ‘Start Late: Finish Rich’ and interestingly enough the author goes out of his way to say its not just about getting and having money; one also need to live. And live richly. And the point he hammers home is: ‘when was the last time you experienced joy?’
The last time I was on set, spouting movie quotes, watching people covertly clip c-47’s on each other and being farted on by an ex-mayor. Twisted as all those points sound, it was really the mental and physical exertion - pushing my creativity while exercising - giving my wits a good jog while giving my body logic puzzles.
And now getting paid for it.
Granted, my experience (and interest) is limited. but I can seriously see myself doing this as gigs come along, and interspersing it with freelance photoshop work. I can’t just be confined to one or the other - so why not make money doing all the things I love? Who says what the rules are? And who says I gotta follow them? Every time I’ve listened to other’s advice about what I should be doing, I’ve regretted it. And every time I’ve worked for some company, I have ended up hating it - or at least barely tolerated the corporate bullshit enough to work there…
So, a rough plan is shaping - including an active interest in obtaining some real estate of my own - I’ve gotta start the Naked Empire somewhere…
11.13.06
There once was a man… Nantucket Denouement
Hung with the Director and Heather Friday night, or I should say hung with Heather first, as opposed to my plan of dragging her to the Pub and see both of them at the same time. Guess when yer husband manages a bar it can get tiring going to the same establishment over and over.
So I stopped by and chatted a bit, relating the bits and snippets of the adventure, the cool individuals that I met. What was interesting is that the 1st shoot (’Sovereignty’) wasn’t a fluke. I didn’t go to this one surrounded by friends, I didn’t go with a specialized task that I was familiar with, and no one cut me any slack because I was good friends with the Director. I had simply gone on the merits of my abilities and the positive accolades from people I’d worked with.
Heather leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, ‘I just heard from NinjaScott yesterday, and he said you were awesome!’ I felt mollified that at least the gossip circle gave me a positive review. I then had one of those intense flashback moments, back to the wrap party…
I’m at the table with Gene and Damien, sitting next to me is an affable older gent, I remember seeing him around the shoot, I think he was the film loader. He introduces himself as Bernie and Gene quizzes hims about his film experience. Which is practically nil. Turns out this guy is pushing 60, was in the insurance game (or some other mind numbing career) when he and his wife just decide to quit. Give it all up. Go to NY Film Academy and start making movies. Sweet jeebus fuck all if that isn’t the coolest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Screw the system. Who cares about 9 to 5? Do what you want to do, not what everyone else says you should. And Gene, who I told about the imminent end of the vocational hemorrhoid, looks at me and says ‘You outta do that, go to the Film Academy - you’ll be out of work, free time and a nice pile of money - learn the lingo, make some new contacts - it’ll be great.’
As I tell Heather abut it, I can see the double edged argument creep into her eyes - partly yes, for the sheer experience of it - but partly no - because, hell -I’m doing it already: making movies; learning on the set - and making contacts as I go. Damn, a tough choice to make. We chat for a bit more; and I excuse myself - time to catch up with the Director…
The Pub is oddly quiet for a Friday night - not that I’m complaining, usually its filled with Yuppie Scumballs. Mychal is behind the bar, already pouring me a Bass, which is good, cause that moment the exceedingly cute Tori practically jumps in my lap with hugs and kisses and I can’t concentrate on anything when she does that.
The Director and I see each other, and its like on of those moments in a war movie, where two guys from the same hometown greet each other after a long battle - exhausted, but triumphant. We get into an excited debate over last weeks ramifications from the election. He’s modest, but I suspect that his active debate with family and friends in Va. helped swing a part of the vote, and I heartily congratulate him for it.
We talk for a while about Nantucket, differences between the two shoots, I tell him some of the funny anecdotes (usually about the hazing I got) and plans for the re-shoot of ‘Sovereignty’. Looks like we’re on track for May. We decide that another meeting about the opening animation and the end credits is in order. More drinks and political discussion until I can barely keep my eyes open. I bid the folks farewell, telling them I’ll email the url with the photos…
And as I wander home, I’m thinking about the shoot, the experience, the only thing I regret was a photo that I missed: Gene and I caught a ride with Caitlin, who played the Doctor, and as we’re cruising along, the van - full of the rest of the crew, passes us, and riding shotgun is NinjaScott, with his impish grin, flipping us the bird…
11.10.06
Nantucket Shoot, Day Three: ‘!@$#%! Dome Light!’
Woke up feeling like I’d been beaten with chains. I heard rustling around and knew that it was time to get up and explore the possibility of coffee. I just got my 1st sip when Damien came rushing down the stairs. ‘Shit dude, we overslept!’ I guzzled my cup and jumped into my clothes as he roused the others and we made a dash for the van and the set. Shit, twenty minutes late on call.
NinjaScott met us at the top of the stairs, before we could even stammer out an apology, he fixed us with an icy, thousand yard stare and stated: ‘I’m not gonna say a fucking word about this freshman year film school BULLSHIT!’ We all suddenly shrunk about a foot. ‘Let’s go’ he said and we rushed into place, setting up as quickly as we could, sheepishly avoiding each others eyes.
We quickly got underway, and filming resumed - and once we got back into the groove, the mood lightened - that state of ‘flow’ is a powerful entity, and a well organized team somehow lends itself to a positive frame of mind. We had gotten most of the couple shots in, including some shots with a new actress, Caitlin, who played the concerned doctor and had to convey a bad diagnosis without speaking. Amazing watching the craft and how much information a face can convey with a word of dialogue. And once she wrapped her scene, it was time for the dolly shots.
The biggest problem with the dolly was that the combined weight of the camera, tripod, director, AC, and video monitor was too much and as soon as they hit the curved portion of the track, BOOM! the whole affair slammed to the ground, literally shaking the floor. And there’s nothing like seeing a dozen people jump at that sound, and dive for the camera all at once, to prevent it from falling over. We broke for lunch at that point, and sampled some of Nantucket’s finest clam chowder, whilst Capt. Ron set about fixing the dolly. When we resumed, it was amazing, The Capt. behind the camera, Cisco with the assist, Damien and myself wrangling cables and Gene pulling the dolly, while Greg the Director watched on the monitor - all these people in a ballet of motion for what looks like a simple camera move.
The rest of the shoot was simply getting details, getting snippets of dialog just right. Since most of these were static shots, we (the crew) found ourselves relegated to tidying up and hanging out on the perimeter of the set, getting into various forms of trouble. The de facto form of torturing each other came from writing obscene messages on clothespins (or C-47’s in the industry lingo) and covertly pinning them onto each other, until one brushed up against something and felt it. Jacqueline seemed to take great delight in doing this to Gene, as evidenced here:
Despite being mocked for my snoring, and being dry-humped by an inebriated Irishman, the worst humiliation was suffered when they were recording dialogue, which meant that we crew members had to sit out in the hall, and be very quiet, as the boom mic was very sensitive. So, I sat there, just listening, taking a load off my sore feet, some people were milling about, including Finn, the former mayor and line producer, who tiptoed in from the outdoors, no doubt taking care of the logistical end of the shoot. He passed me to stand by the opening in the sound blanket to take a peek at the shoot.
This is when he farted. Not a foot from my face.
The whole crew lost it in hysterical laughter, ruining the take. Finn excused himself and Gene and Damien were rolling on the floor, NinjaScott yelling ‘QUIET ON THE SET, PLEASE!’. I’ve suffered a lot of indignities in my time, but a Line Producer / Former Mayor busting ass in my face was a new low…
We wrapped the shoot with applause and accolades, and hurriedly packed up the equipment, cramming it into the rented van, in anticipation of dinner, at one of the best restaurants in town. We got ourselves ready to depart, Gene & I in the van, Finn taking the rest in his SUV, when he got out and approached us with a very solemn face. ‘Boys, I’ve got some bad news. I was just over at Cheryl’s (the house we were crashing at) and it seems I went and drank the last beer. So, if we want to remedy this, you’ll need to follow me for a pit stop.’
Wow, it is a true testament of the character and nature of a place and its inhabitants if the Former Mayor is declaring a state of emergency due to lack of ales. So we made the pit stop, went back to what was now affectionately known as ‘Animal House’ shit, showered, shaved and ran to the restaurant, exhausted, happy and looking forward to a good meal, camaraderie and relaxing.
The rest of the evening was good conversation, good food and a blur. We (the Animal House members) under Damien’s prompting gathered around Greg to apologize for our lateness, which he brushed off, obviously pleased with the work we had done, and shook hands all around. Finn made an excellent speech and delighted the crew with a ‘medical evaluation’ of the lead actress. It seems while Caitlin was filming her ‘doctor’ scenes, she was filling out a genuine report, a true method actor, and we embellished it with foibles the lead actress had, including her propensity to burst out singing in between takes…
After dinner, we Animal House members retired to Cheryl’s one last time, enjoying ales, each other’s company, and Runjeev, our court ghost and documentarian, as he showed us footage the he’d shot, of our little production. Slowly, we drifted off, one by one, trying not to let the evening end, but no longer able to fight off the exhaustion, or the dread of having to get up early, again, to catch the ferry back to the mainland…
11.09.06
Nantucket Shoot, Day Two: ‘Copy THAT!’
It was a brisk New England morning, and the crew slowly roused themselves, dealing out abuse over my loud snoring (something I would hear about for a long time…) We managed to wolf down some cheap Costco bulk muffins and I was lucky enough to have a cup of coffee before we piled in the van and followed Finn to the hospital where we’d be shooting.
We got there just as the other half of the team was setting up; makeup was being applied and Damien set out to teach me basic lighting. We spent some time setting up various lights and clipping different colored gels to them, I mistakenly grabbed the wrong color several times, much to the amusement of Damien and Gene, who busted my chops in a good-humored way.
Most of the shots we set up around an older couple in a hospital bed, speaking to each other in one-word sentences, and the majority of the work centered around moving equipment around for multiple takes at different angles.
What was interesting about this shoot was that we were in a fully functioning hospital, and the crew was a bit weirded out to learn that a patient had passed away in an adjacent room, while we were filming. There were plenty of people in wheelchairs in the hallways, and as I passed them, I would smile and say hello and hopefully brighten their day, if just by a bit. Tough to feel bad about being tired and hungover when someone next to you is carrying a colostomy bag…
The rest of the day was spent just filming, breaking down, setting up, take after take. I was complimented about how quickly I picked up on the lingo, and soon the crew started with the movie quotes, and I must admit, I got trounced, as the people study film, not just pop-culture popcorn flicks.
When we wrapped, closing up the set was quick and easy, as we were going to use the same exact location the next day, and we were assured that the rooms were reasonably safe. So we tidied up, packed stuff away and headed back to the house to clean up. Seems that the Director, Greg, was having a gathering at his house, and we would be dining there. So, after showers - we followed Finn, who I learned was the former Mayor of the Island, led us to Greg’s mini-mansion (complete with a 2 story guest house) and we quickly settled into cocktails and played with Greg’s dog, who was eager for attention. As we mingled, I was introduced to several other members of the team that I hadn’t been introduced to, including Jacqueline, the makeup artist, who had a very infectious laugh, and Cieran, our Belfastian PA, who also possessed an infectious laugh.
After an amazing dinner of lasagna with goat cheese and cranberries (yeah I know it sounds weird, but trust me, it was amazing) Greg treated us all to a recital on his baby grand, and it was one of those moments that time simply stops. Here I was surrounded by new and old friends, all of them wildly smart and creative, and I felt that I was part of something. Something with substance. Connected. Like I could stay in this moment in time for the rest of my life and be content. In fact, it was so powerful, I needed to duck out for a smoke.
I was soon joined by a good portion of the crew, and we all shared a laugh over Cieran’s antics, as he was in high spirits, and had consumed a great deal of spirits. He quickly decided that the party was wrapping up here, and that we should adjourn to the house for a nightcap and more conversation. Which we did. In spades.
Finn had had the foresight to stock the fridge with a good selection of ales, and we soon found ourselves bouncing around, outside smoking and talking in the frigid night air, inside to warm up, in front of the TV, watching Cisco’s demo reel, back outside for more smokes, until I found myself unable to keep my eyes open. I decided to spare my team members my obnoxious snoring, so I crashed on the couch. My last memory was the of Cieran, trying to wake me up for another round of ale and smokes, by climbing on top of me and wrestling me off the couch.
Trust me, there’s nothing like being teased by crew members who swear that it looked like a drunk Irishman dry-humping me at 3am….
11.08.06
Nantucket Shoot, Day One: Get in the Van
It was an early rise that morning, as I needed to wrap some laundry, last minute packing (I need to make sure all of my MacGuyvering tools were packed) and chowed down what would be my last home-cooked meal for a long time. I was scheduled to meet the crew by 36th Street, when Capt. Ron called me.
‘Can you be ready earlier? I need you to pick up some stuff.’ Fortunately the place I needed to grab some filters at was right around the corner, so I ran over to 29th, met Gene in the van, grabbed our filters and we cranked on up to the Upper West side, to get movie film cans, camera reports and some personal effects that our esteemed leader had forgotten. Traffic was heavy in midtown, so Gene and I caught up, as I had not seen him since the ‘Sovereignty’ shoot, while we jammed to some classic Black Sabbath.
Once we got our errands out of the way, we got to the rendezvous point to pick up Producer Lydia and Audio Deb, wolfing down sandwiches and also playing catch up - eating, talking and generally enjoying the hell out of a warm sunny Fall day. To say our mood was electric would be an understatement, simply no words can describe the energy one gets from being surrounded by creative people with similar interests and bounding with good energy, humor and cheer.
The drive to Hyannis was amazing, the colors, the camaraderie, the music, all conspired to put smiles on our faces as we joked, reminisced about our last shoot, Gene in total disbelief, as he had not heard of the Fed-Ex tragedy. He was busy with the driving, but loved to tool around with his latest toy: a GPS mapping/ homing device/ MP3 player, and would switch modes back and forth between a constant tracking map of our position, and Johnny Cash and Sabbath. We would be interrupted quite often by phone calls from capt. Ron, who fretted about us possibly being late, and how screwed we would be if we missed the last ferry.
The miles unwound beneath our wheels and the city faded behind us, as town became smaller, more sleepy and more New England-y. It was dark by the time we hit Hyannis, Lydia secured our boarding passes and we sat in the loading zone, smoking cigarettes in the cold and exchanging jokes as we waited for the ferry. I was amazed at the size of the ferry when it landed, and even more amazed when 18-wheeler trucks started pulling into it. We secured the van and headed to the observation deck, grabbing pretzels and local brews from the concession stand. Poor Lydia was dreading the motion sickness she gets from boats, and we all had a good laugh at Gene’s suggestion that she counter it by taping 2 band-aids across her bellybutton in an X pattern. Whether he was joking or not, or if it was a placebo ir not, dammit all, it worked.
After a couple of beers, we made our way out to the prow, and under the light of a full moon watched the waters of Nantucket Sound part in front of us, not minding the cold, entranced by the movement of us, the ship, the water, time and space. Lights in the distance winked on and off, reminding us of our destination, almost longingly, as we enjoyed the ride and didn’t want it to end.
We were met at the pier by Producer Scott and a local by the name of Finn, who guided us to the house we would be crashing at, a huge beach house, with many rooms, and our hostess, Cheryl, who also doubled as wardrobe and seamstress. We all got our call sheets, had pizza and beer and got into the rhythm of planning out our logistics (namely the procurement of more ale).
After hanging out and talking for a while, we all found rooms to crash in, and I warned Damien, my roommate, that I was prone to snoring. Which he seemed to take in stride, joking pointing out that he’d throw me out into the cold if I kept him awake. So we brushed our teeth, settled into be, and drifted off to sleep, eagerly anticipating the next day and the fun we’d have working together once again.
Until about 3 in the morning when Damien yelled at me: ‘Goddammit Fletch, knock off the fucking snoring!’
