12.30.06
New Stuff
Updated the ol’ site with the latest painting progress…
12.27.06
‘Hell, if I was doin’ any better, I couldn’t live with myself’
Despite the setbacks this year has brought, as detailed in yesterday’s post, there has been some good to offset the bad. And while I’m still contemplatin’ the balance, I still think that in the end the positive outweighs everything else. So, the good:
- My friends; the Director and his wife - for never doubting my creative abilities and giving me huge opportunities in film making
- more friends; Puma - for teaching me a lesson in strength and perseverance and fighting back against really rough odds
- even more friends; DJ $ellout - for teaching me that you never know about people, and that we all have things to learn about tolerance
- and even more friends; all those that I met on set - knowing that there are good people who share the same creative passions
- the adventures I’ve had traveling - San Francisco, Nantucket, the field trips to A.C. - all amazing in each respect
- The Muse - knowing that my creative energies never really wane, they simply need a little inspiration
- This here online journal - being able to rant, rage, rave and sort out the day to day shit helps keep things in perspective
- All the women that I’ve flirted with - and who flirted back, it helps to know my romantic nature hasn’t been extinguished
- and lastly - I’m still here, still fighting, I’ve got my brains and talent and the drive to keep moving forwards, never stuck in the same rut and that each day is another step
OK, enough waxing poetic - 5 more days of this wretched year - time to kick it up a notch, current events have got me riled again, the painting, the writing and the animation have creative energies sizzling, I’m determined to close out this rotten blotch on a high note. And with a good buzz on…
12.25.06
‘I don’t want something I need. I want something I want ‘
So, I was bored out of my skull on Friday night, stuck as usual working the night shift at the ol’ occupational hemorrhoid. I hate the day before a holiday weekend, its either busier than I can stand it or dead to the point of throwing office supplies at coworkers to stave off the boredom.
After surfing the width, length, breadth and depth of the Internet - I turned back to my inbox, hoping that someone was equally bored and sent me a email. Turns out, The Director did. He asked if I was going to drop by the pub, and after the tedium worming its way into my cranium, a pint, chat and cute waitresses were the cure I was looking for.
Jump ahead a few hours to the door, Craig working his usual bouncer evil eye, nailing me in the beam of his flashlight, bellowing ‘I thought I told you NEVER come in here again!’ of course every eye in the place was on me at that moment, beet red and looking for a convenient rock to crawl under. Craig laughs at my embarrassment as I get a hug from one of the waitresses. Craig beams, “Damn, for a white boy, you get real red!’
The pub is relatively quiet, for a change. Guess the Murray Hill crowd has better things to do on a rainy holiday Friday night, which suits me fine. The waitresses that haven’t been cut offer hugs and Xmas greetings, showing off new clothes and jewelry, hoping for an early out. The Director greets me warmly, recovering from a nasty cold. He runs up to the office and returns with a small wrapped present, which I tear open.
It’s a coffee mug. With the ‘Sovereignty’ logo emblazoned upon it. The logo I helped design. My first piece of movie merchandising. And I had a hand in its creation. I’m speechless, visions of what other items like this are in my future. The ‘Romantic Comedy’ t-shirt, the ‘Serial Killer’ Wheaties box… Its the coolest thing I’ve gotten in a long time.
And then the bar inexplicably fills up with yuppie guidos, causing a lot of work for the remaining staff and annoying the hell out of me with their lack of manner, so I depart, visions of movie making in my head…
12.19.06
My night, cyberpunk style
Analog Johnny contracted me for a cleanup job on his antiquated network at SoBen. He got that moniker from his adoration of old school ‘acting’. In this day of instant digital perfection he was a throwback to previous centuries by insisting that art was created by artists, not technicians, and whenever he came into contact with anything more complicated than an integrated circuit, his negative bio-feedback energy would cause even the most simple electronic device to snarl in a feedback loop. That’s where I come in.
I rented ten minutes of phone charge time at a Koreatown stall devoted to print media and a brisk underground trade of swapping credit for paper currency. The wizened face behind 20 millimeters of bulletproof lexan bowing slightly as I made my purchases and wandered through the nighttime crowd of tourists undaunted by the chill of the Manhattan winter. The pub was empty, except for Craig the bouncer, all 150 kilos poured into a black suit that seemed to absorb all visible light. He greets me with a smile, scanning me from face to hands, looking for weapons, old habits die hard - learned on the streets of the Bronx. Mychal, the Slavic bartender, greets me with a nod, pouring shots of vodka analog, boosted with taurine; energetic customers buy more booze, hence better tips. He nods in the direction of the office, up a flight of stairs. Analog Johnny is busy giving orders to the bar girls, young enhanced nubiles from the ‘burbs, sporting multiple piercings and surgical modifications. His glance tells me to hang back while I look at the bank of Sony monitors, showing every angle of the club, overhead ancient ducts pump filtered air that smells like booze, sweat and long chain molecules of perfume. Meeting over, he points to the box in the corner, and I plug in and get to work, the waitresses giggle and bring me pints of British lager as I spend then next couple of hours ridding his systems of viruses downloaded by the same girls, lost in the cybernetic shuffle…
Side note: My good friend Heather introduced me to the Fruitcake Lady. We all need a grandmother figure like this, old enough to tell us like it is, to give advice unfettered by bullshit. Her passing is a loss, as we need more undistilled truth like this woman lays out…
12.17.06
‘”The object of art is to make eternal the desperately fleeting moment.” ‘
Courtesy of Tennessee Williams…
So, I’m back in the painting business, and damn it feels good…
After much email and phone tag, Lexi stopped by the studio and we did the long awaited posing session. Its always good to relax with the subject first, usually over a few ales and discuss the project. I had hung some of the previous paintings and told her the story of how they came to be, she scored big points by having patronized the Volcano, which is where this series was born.
Its always a profound pleasure in having someone instantly grasp what I’m trying to achieve, what look I’m after, namely that sense of despondency, after a long night out, the emptiness… Of course, its not the easiest thing to capture when both the artist and the model are swapping jokes and witticisms back and forth at lighting speed, and I ended up with a few dozen shots of her laughing - not quite the mood I’m trying to capture.
After a good half hour of shooting, we decided to review what we had, plugged in the ol’ camera and started doing the photoshop magic, removing red-eye, using a couple of ‘artistic’ filters to simulate what the final painting might look like. I was amazed at how many were exactly what I was looking for, normally I get one shot that will end up being a painting, this time I got two definite and about half a dozen others that were good enough to consider doing a whole series of just her…
They were so good we just had to run down to The Pub for celebratory ales and fondue…
12.13.06
‘Politics is the art of controlling your environment.’
In these dark times I often turn to the well worn pages written by the Good Doctor for any snippets of wisdom, humor or at least some good ol’ boy lust for freedom from the madness…
It was during one of my many deep searches of the internets that I found that Hunter’s wife had started a blog. I started reading with a fair amount of skepticism, thinking that it was nothing more than a way of cashing in on the Doc’s name, but as I read I became more and more impressed. Anita Thompson has a prosaic style all of her own, yet also keeps the Doc’s spirit and message alive with numerous quotes and anecdotes and it is satisfying to know that Herr Doktor’s legacy will continue through her efforts, and that the Owl Farm spirit endures. We here at Fletcher Studios wish her all the best…
Another Lady of the Written Word that impressed me is Arianna Huffington, seems I’m not the only one with an axe to grind concerning Tom Delay’s ‘blog’ and with her usual wit offers a few pointers to the newbie…
As for me, I’m gearing up for what will be a bitch of a day - no sleep, too much stress at the occupational diaper rash, downing mega-doses of Corporate Coffee and getting ready to do battle with idiot cubicle gophers…
More details as events warrant…
UPDATE: Got an email from a potential model for my ‘Grayscale Women Smoking’ series. She writes; ‘So the prodigal painter finally emails me. Perhaps the duct tape and handcuffs won’t be necessary after all.’
Of course I’m still interested! ’
Sounds Promising.
12.05.06
Just in case you wanted to know…
For all my friends fascinated with bodily humor, what a fart looks like in infrared…
‘This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence’
Momentum.
It seems that the hyperviolent movie idea is gathering steam, as I got an unexpected call from The Director, who had heard about the creative jam session from Heather, and now wants in. He also has the talent for writing screenplays, and considering the enthusiastically sadistic ideas he had come up with, well, more mayhem to the mosh pit, I say.
Funny how when its a work of fiction our brains conspire to make a story so brutal, that if we heard about it in the real world, hardened Drill Sergeants would blubber like little boys and the most ardent atheist would cross themselves and offer up prayers. But I think what has everyone so enthralled is the motivations of the lead characters, we are all innately fascinated with the dark avenues of our minds, and each of us at some point looks into that Conradian Heart of Darkness and contemplates our evil sides. What snaps us back is the thought of ‘OMG I can’t believe I just thought that!’ which reminds us that we generally aren’t evil and we abhor those thoughts as alien, witchy. The true psycho doesn’t, and that is a dark liberation, to be without fear and to be able to instill fear and dominion over others.
Me, I just want to see this filmed.
I want to see how people react to the evil, to the motivations of this evil, and since both of the main characters are beyond redemption, which one people side with the most, and more importantly, why. How can we make the serial killer human? How can we make the moral and kind person so cold and calculating and predatory in nature that the bulk of humanity will rise up in unison to stamp it out??? And how is it that the nicest guy in the universe, one who’ll give you the coat off his back and the money in his pocket, will take one of my most fiendish ideas and make it three times worse? And then ask if I can find a .mp3 file of ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’??
Maybe this is the journey through my darkness - a look into something that I’ve always known was there, like a inmate, locked in his cell, whispering brutal thoughts in the night, never to be let loose, but still his whispers taunt my dreams…
And don’t worry, the next project after this (especially if it is successful) will be a lighthearted romantic comedy about the girl who got away, and lots of cute puppies and musical numbers. With napalm.
12.04.06
‘So, after he starts to strangle her, she whips out a straightrazor and opens up a few veins’
Testament to the power of ideas. Heather called me last night, saying she had gotten a real honest-to-goodness screenwriter interested in the Serial Killer movie idea we had talked about last week. I’m amazed that the idea was so potent and that she wants to help get this from a nugget of an idea that I’ve been kicking around for years to a viable script.
Sadly, I know as much about screenwriting as I do tensor calculus, and she took it upon herself to approach a friend of hers, John, who does know about such things. She called, excitedly telling me about the new direction our project was going to take…
Hmmm, our project? Nice to be invited for the first meeting. I grabbed a six-pack and headed over, only to find that our screenwriter had some emergency to attend to and wouldn’t be joining us. We started talking and soon the ideas came forth in a flood that couldn’t be stopped. Character sketches, plot twists and twisted motivations. We called John and had a speakerphone conference, relating all of our fiendishly evil ideas while he tried to teach us esoteric fundamentals, like 3 act structure and things like ‘plot development’. When he got off the call, we went back into our character sketches, figuring out how our killers got their motivation.
Sweet jeebus fuck, I thought I had a warped brain. My psycho writing partner outdid me in quite a few areas, and when we started talking about using a cruciform as a branding iron, I knew we were in for some serious shit. Funny how she normally comes acroos as so sweet and nice, and she’s describing how one of our characters was sexually abused by his older sister and forced to ‘marry’ her… I got to the point that if we had some real life person that was being influenced by our writing (ala ‘Stranger than Fiction’) we would most certainly be sent to the lowest circles of Hell for the sheer suffering our characters would endure…
We had gotten to a point where we run into a bit of a block, trying to work in a Tarantino-esque cop when we decided to back off and let the evenings progress marinate for a bit. I ducked into the bathroom for a quick bladder relief, trying to listen to her talk over the toilet flushing. As I left the bathroom, trying to pick up the thread again, I heard her say something about ‘can’t wait to see it on film.’ I ask her to repeat what she just said.
Sweet Merciful Patron Saint of Film making. She wants to film this beast. Here I was thinking this was more of an exercise (she ran into a block in her novel) and this was an experiment in collaboration and writing practice. Or, at best, something we could turn around and sell, and if it was ever filmed, would garner us a writing credit. Nope. She wants Laurel Films to shoot this. And considering she’s on the board, she has quite a bit of say in what will get produced. I was hit by a powerful little vision of being on the set, filming something I thought of, and we wrote - and ye gods, it was more than a little tantalizing, not only seeing it shot, but editing it and seeing it on the screen. That my friends will be the ultimate goal of my film career.
12.03.06
Last BBQ of the Season
Saturday the warm weather snapped and you could feel that chill in the air, knowing that any warm days until spring will be far and few between…
Capt. Ron was doing one last BBQ and a belated wrap party for the Nantucket shoot. It was supposed to kick off at 2:30, but I got a late start, trying to finish some laundry so I’d have clean socks and not stink up the place. I wandered westward, as the Good Captain’s apartment was on West 74th, enjoying a bit of sun and fresh air - the street full of bustling tourists looking to score that special something for that special someone.
I managed to get a good recommendation on a bottle of wine and grabbed a six of Stella, and even though I was an hour and a half late, I was still the first one there - friggin’ Hollywood types, taking ‘fashionably late’ to a new level. Capt. Ron and I chatted for a while, he turned me on to a New Zealand ale that I hadn’t had before and we discussed our upcoming special effects shoot, tentatively scheduled for next week. Ninjascott and Lydia showed up and we got into our usual movies, on set disasters, and insane trivia conversations, Ninjascott plying us with homemade Bloody Mary’s. More people arrived and we started in on dinner, grilled octopus, cheeseburgers, prime rib, and an awesome salad, warming ourselves by his fireplace - and how freaking cool is that; grill out on the deck, fireplace blazing in the living room…
Conversations drifted around some dailies we were watching, some project that Ron shot last year, my vocational hemorrhoid ending, the utter lack of dating that I’ve not been doing and upcoming projects. Looks like the Springsteen Song premiere is pushed back to January… I had one overwhelmingly panicked moment when D. - a crew member from the past two shoots showed up. I had flirted briefly with her on the set and had asked her out, which she politely declined, and in a bourbon inspired email I had teased her mercilessly about it - and now I was expecting a good smack in the face for my impudence. Luckily, she laughed it off, graciously not allowing my embarrassment to fester, and flashing the grin that reminded me of why I flirted with her in the first place.
The rest of the evening was just a good reminder of the people I connect with, and if I pursue the ol’ Hollywood career, these will be my peers. People that I work with, are friends with, and share my love, hopes and dreams with. And as I made my way home, belly full, smile on my face, I wouldn’t have it any other way…
