Artist: Intuition, Expedition, Giving of the Gift

I want to take a minute and write out what I’ve been dreaming about recently as it applies to the artist’s journey. And therefor my own journey. I come to feel that like the hero’s journey and the structural foundations of the storytelling, the artists journey is broken into three. This three has given me new insight recently because the third step I didn’t really understand. I’m hoping to understand it further by writing about it now. 

The artist’s life is a strange one. It has a lot to do with unseen forces that make up the word inspiration. the hunches. the flights of fancy. If the artist tries to live an artistic life without giving in to these flights or hunches, they will most likely be working on other peoples art projects. They will lend their taste and their skill to some project, but not their own. So what is the beginning of the artistic process to me? 

The Intuition

This I would just as easily name the Call or the Hunch. The Gut Feeling. The inner sense. This is the thing that starts it all. this is the thing that without which there will be no journey. nothing new. no new truth. no artistic life. When I’ve been photographing recently, this stage has become extremely obvious to me and easy to recognize, like the edge of an old pot peeking through the sands. I’ll be walking with my camera. There will be something - some glint of beauty, some piece of nature, some play of light - and I’ll have a split second to act or ignore. If I ignore, the story ends. I successfully squash another artistic impulse and my dreary, unartistic life is reinforced and nothing new is done. I get to go on my day. Thinking the same thoughts. Into the wasteland of the normal. No truth discovered, but status quo maintained. If, however, I listen to that tiny glint of light, stop my proud march, look, listen, feel, than the story is able to begin. If I invest in that moment. If I stop my self and my drive toward whatever, I am able to begin something - a journey - into what that impulse was. Why did I have that impulse? What did I notice? What is it about this thing that has gotten my attention? Now I am able to ask. 

The Expedition

This is the act 2 of classic stories. This is where the journey gets its footing. This is where I as the artist gather my resources, my friends, my people, my tenacity, my faith. Gather my curiosity, gather my openness. I go - I literrally take steps in the direction of the glint. I walk toward the intuition - to where the truth has been gleaming. When I’m photographing, this is where I’ve chosen to walk toward the flower - toward the light, I’ve brought up my camera from my side and am starting to view things through the viewfinder. This is when I start adjusting my settings. Gathering focus. Deciding on my aperture, what kind of exposure is needed. What kind of depth of field. Where is the light? Do i want a lens flare? Does this flower want a lens flare? Where is the truth? Where is the truth of this flower? Where is the truth that I went searching for? What am i doing here? What do i want? What do i need here? what does this moment need to be complete with me? What does the camera need to see this clearly? What is needed here? It’s really a quest. It’s a series of questions leading to other questions leading to other questions in an intuitive movement towards the center of the thing. The center of th truth. The highest or the deepest inner sanctum. And I Would say that the The instinct in this time in me is really towards atonement. At-one-ment as Campbell would say. The artist’s heart is yearning towards the truth I glimpsed in the Intuition but now have to actually work to go attain. Work to see. Strive to reach. Climb every mountain, ford every sea, etc. This is the journey, where th miles will be made, where the sights will be seen, and at the climax of this act, the truth will be witnessed. It will be “done."

Ah that was nice. The artistic journey. I got the picture! great. Now I can relax. Rest easy. Some agent will discover me for sure. Or someone will go through my hard drive one day when I’m dead and declare my the genius I always knew myself to be. Written on my epitaph: "Just Wait." 

Hmm. The Hermit artist. He Who Is Not Seen. She who was too good for the world. 

Is there were a third part of the journey? Even after the climbing of the highest peak? Even after the finding of the true love? Even after the seeing the face of god? Is there were a third and final phase that connected the artist back to their world in a way that made them worth their weight in gold? 

The Giving of the Gift

The journey, as i begin to see it, is in two directions. First, with the intuition, the artist begins at home. In their community, in their world. They are called out - into the unknown. Into the pathless land. Into the fearful oblivion of unratified truth. Will they go? If they do, they find themselves in a looking glass world. Wonderful, scary, lonely, brilliant, here-to-for unseen. The unique take. They witness and capture something here. They get their epiphany.

If they then return, if they return, the direction becomes opposite. Moving back towards their realm of understanding, the place where they left, the society of their peers, the culture of their moment, they feel perhaps the glow wearing off. The bliss fading. The ecstatic halo getting heavier, greyer. Will they believe me? Will they understand? Will they call me a fool, an idiot, cute, insane? 

I begin to believe that this stage is the hardest of all. It’s the one that I know the least about. It’s the showing up to be seen. Not as a role, but as yourself. The gift not hidden, be revealed. The truth open and frank, not shouded or concealed. The fear would be to enter again the world of corrupt mundanity with the precious gift and not be destroyed. Not be ravished by the callousness of your peers. Not be thrown off course. Not to give up on the creation of the gift because no one will like it. Because the world is not ready for it. Because there is no market for it, or a million other comments the critical mind might make. Do we believe in ourselves on the return enough to see it through to the end? To see it through to delivery? To the delivery of our truth? The fear is strong. It is the fear really of wanting to be part of the pride. Wanting to be part of the community and loved and accepted. These are deep human things. Deep animal things. How dare we come back with a new truth? With a new take? With a controversial truth?

The Giving of the Gift must be unconditional, and it must be sincere. For me with photographs that looks like uploading all the images, sorting through and editing them, finding the ones that successfully captured the epiphany, and then giving the epiphany out to friends, or to instagram, or if I were making a living off of them, to a marketplace where patrons could pay money in return for the gift in a model of reciprocity. But I really believe that the spirit of gift giving must be present - and must be sincere - or it will simply be a coercion, and of course in that way the truth will be lost. 

I continue to explore here, but it seem that if the fear of rejection can be mastered, then the real burden of this stage, of the return, is being able to be the master of two worlds - to coin another Campbell phrase. To give the gift perhaps in a language that the old world will understand, in shapes that it recognizes, while yet remaining true to the epiphany itself - not corrupting it in the translation. Not giving up on the truth seen. 

As I strive in earnest for vocation and a living as an artist, I begin to see the gap in the chain is the Gift. The return with the insight. The shaman goes up the hill, has a vision, and then must come down to tell the vision to the town. He/She must return with the gift of the truth - the epiphany - to their world as their contribution to life going on. In my definition, the artist is the person concerned with truth, aesthetic truth, spiritual truth, perhaps most importantly with mysterious truth. A truth that cannot be quite ascertained by other methods. They go into mysterious worlds, sometimes through drugs or disciplines, transpersonal escapades, collaborations, flights of fancy, and see a truth. And if they are indeed a part of the society in which they live, they will return to give the gift of the truth they found. If they do not give a gift on return, why did they go? What purpose do they have in the society in which they live? Why would they choose to simply be outsiders? What value is their non-conformity? What value their iconoclasm?

But I am loving seeing it as gift giving because it makes it unconditional. There is nothing worse than a conditional truth. A truth only told loud enough to not alarm or disturb. A truth told to please (is there such a truth?). After all the truth brought back may well be quite alarming. 

One of my favorite examples of the three act artistic journey is Watership Down. It’s Richard Adams story of Rabbits in rural England facing change. Fiver - the runt of the warren - has a vision of tractors coming to destroy the warren and all that they know - this is the intuition, the call. He reports back but none will listen - all call him an madman - except his older brother Hazel. Hazel - despite his better judgement - leads an Expedition with Fiver to a new land - a new truth  - a new safe hill that they can all live in. It is not easy to get there, they have many challenges on the expedition, snares, dogs, cats, distance - plus the fact that they don’t know for sure it is even there - this too has been part of the vision of Fiver. But finally they make it. They make it to the Hill - essentially the Hill of Truth. The Epiphany. They are gifted and gift the world with a new land - safe and fertile - where the rabbits can live their lives in truth and harmony. To me Fiver is the embodiement of this intuition. The intuitive self. It may be scared, shake, the runt of the litter. But it must be honored - or the world in which Hazel lives will become a wasteland. The gift of that film is to listen to intuitinons, even if they lead out of the comfortable past and into dangers. The Calls exist for a reason. They are not insanity, they are gifts of truth themselves. In this way the whole system seems to loop on itself. The truth of one Epiphany Gifted becomes the seed of a new Expedition. 

The Giving of the Gift is the only way that the the epiphany can benefit the world. The only way it can re-vitalize the world, renew the world. And at its best, art does just this. 

Thank you if you made it this far on my journey with me. I appreciate you time and your attention. I go sincerely and with earnestness. 

I really encourage you to look at your instincts as Calls - calls to action, calls to adventure, calls to truth - calls that you have the power to follow. To go on the expedition, alone or with others, to the heart and the height of some truth, far away from convention and expectation. It is truth! And then you can take that truth with you, make a picture, an essay, a film - to give back to the world. That’s an artistic journey to me. 

Production

I’ve been wanting to talk about the production process for Fading for weeks now, and finally, here it is, the blow-by-blow.

The greatest thing I got from this process was how a team of people can make an idea real - despite some substantial difficulties - and have fun doing it.

We needed to find and shoot in one interior, and several exterior locations. Melissa Jackson, my production designer, and I went to the various spots that were options for locations. One was Stacie's house, another Kate Giller's house in SF. Stacie’s was where I originally imagined it taking place. Her house was tough though. She and her husband Kevin had succeeded in making a really welcoming, sweet, charming home. It was the opposite of the stark minimalism I was looking for in the Writer’s house. In my mind, the Writer's striving for perfectionism has leached out all color, all hope, all chaos. Stacie’s house would need a complete revamp and the moving of several extremely large sofas to begin to work. We headed to Kate’s.

Kate’s was essentially a long studio. Windows down at one end, darkness in the rest. Hardwood floors, great molding and structure. Thinking about it in terms of the Writer made it make more and more sense. It was great. It would take less to convert it, and it would take care of itself in terms of mood. Plus, Kate would be out of town working. We had an interior!

Pre Pro with David, Vanessa, and Henry, Kate's Cat

Vanessa Avery came on as my first AD. That role is critical to production. They are in many ways the train conductor, keeping everyone in sync, keeping the train on time, seeing when we are straying from schedule and understanding when to call for help. She and I met at the location on prep day and talked through the schedule.

Our overall plan was to shoot the film in three days. We were going to space the shooting out over two weeks, one sunday, the next sunday and the immidiate Monday. Our dialogue here was critical because if we didn’t have good expectations of time and work load we could easily end up stalling the plane (or train, in this case.)

I had made a shot-list of 12 setups for the interior scene. A setup is a given placement of the camera: Location, height, lens, etc. Each setup takes time for not only the camera, but the lights, the set, the actor, the sound, anything that will be in the finished film. 12 was a good number for us, a newly formed crew, on an interior location. But it would only be if we kept ourselves on time.

Vanessa drilled me about each setup. “How much time do you need to set up.” “20 minutes.” Ok and how much time shooting?” “15. No 20. There s a focus pull in there.” We went through this with every setup. Figured out lunch break possibilities and talked though how we would communicate on set. It was exciting to see the ideas coming into the realm of reality.

I went home and tried to get some sleep. I didn’t get much. There’s a lot riding on the role of director. There’s the sense of leading a crew. There’s also the sense of decisions that are only yours to make. Decisive actions, clear directions. The crew and cast depend on these things. Sometimes human beings aren’t that clear. It's such an interesting balance between transparency and role. It’s a time in my personal life when transparency is far more important than role. How will I stand as a director on this film?

DAY 1

I got up early, and besides Ari - the first Assistant Camera - who had slept at the location (watching Kate’s cat, Henry) I was the first one on site. I got a coffee at a corner shop and sat outside watching the slow mist come down. It was a Sunday morning. And soon there would be eleven people working feverishly inside this residential apartment. Hopefully not waking the neighbors. 

Photo courtesey Adrien Blondel

Stacie and Vanessa arrived; Alex the Director of Photography with the camera truck, Adrien - gaffer, Kris - audio - and the rest of the crew. Monica, our brave PA headed out for coffee and breakfast. The rest of us went inside and started prepping. It was damn exciting. To have all those people there. To have a crew there. A team. Finally all the prep work and talking and recruiting was over. Now it was time to shoot. We had a crew meeting, talked over the plan, and took a moment to appreciate everyone being there. Now it was time for work. 

Photo courtesey Adrien Blondel

Setup 1 would be shooting from the bathroom hallway all the way down the apartment to the desk. It would be the widest shot and would require set dec to be completely done. People helped Melissa move things out of frame and finalize the look. Alex, Ari and I were with the camera framing up, seeing what was included, what wasn’t. Seeing if there was enough light as it was. Kris on audio worked with his somewhat unfamiliar rig and got his settings where he needed them. Adrien prepped his gaffer lighting equipment and then started shooting stills - he was double duty this day. 

Vanessa kept an eye on the clock and kept checking in with me and the rest of the crew as we neared our first time mark: shooting setup one. We were a little behind but ready within about five minutes of our goal. This was to be a static shot, long in case I wanted to put credits over it. We got out the slate, Vanessa slated for us. “Roll sound” “Sound rolling” “Scene 1a take 1, roll camera” “Camera rolling” “Marker.” -clap- she stepped away. “We’re going to let this roll for sixty seconds,” I said. "Action." and we let it roll for the 60 seconds i wanted. I carefully watched the frame, the light, the feel of it. “Cut. That’s it. We got it. Moving on.” “Moving on?” Vanessa asked, incredulously. “We got it.” “Okay. Moving on. Our next setup is 1D over here by the window. We need to move the bed down into place and Laura, you’ll need your coat on…” and so it went on. 

Photo courtesey Adrien Blondel

There were challenges. It was very dark in the back side of the apartment and Adrien wanted to use more artificial light to boost it. I was reluctant. I wanted to see as little artifice as possible and so we agreed on a very sparse look in the closet. We also ended up with some continuity problems. As we had planned to shoot it somewhat out of sequence to make the set-up times as short as possible, we hadn’t really charted out the movement of props and furniture. In some of the shots the chair was straight back when she got up, in others it was angled 45 degrees. The plant that she tries to water was absent in some wide shots of the table, and present in others. It was definately a learning experience in the total unforgivenes of continuity in film. You can try to be casual about it and “not stress” but it’s one of those things that actually need to be close to perfect. We also challenged our actor, Laura, with some very subtle but specific changes that she had to keep consistent from setup to setup. She comes back into the room after putting her jacket on and sees her plant for the first time as being dead and needing water. That reaction, of seeing, deciding, and acting needed to be very specific to read on camera and then needed to be consistent from setup to setup as we covered it from three spots. Laura killed it. Once we found what we needed and where we needed to be, she remembered it and nailed it again and again. Continuity for acting levels is a whole other conversation - but just as important. And to keep continuity of acting and still have it feel fresh and alive, that is really an important part of that craft.

Laura. Photo courtesy Adrien Blondel

Our longest setup was the shot where she comes close to the camera and grabs the plant. It involved both a pan, tilt and focus pull. It was the first time Ari and Alex had really needed to work in unison. It was not an easy move. We weren’t working with expensive focus pulling gears and fixtures. It was just Ari’s hand on the barrel of the lens as Alex moved through the scene. On top of that the acting value had to be there as well. We ended up taking 23 takes. We all laughed at how many it took, but what it really was, I think, was the forming of the team of the operator/dp and the focus puller/ac. They needed to be able to work in unison, as a single operator, and by take 23, they had achieved that. And the shot was beautiful.

We suceeded in finishing early. We ended up literally an hour ahead of schedule. We all broke our equipment down and returned Kate’s apartment to it’s former identity. We had done it. Day one was complete.

I was very proud of the team, and of myself. The idea had begun to become reality. It felt excellent.

DAY 2

The second shooting day got tough. Everybody started getting sick. A hint of a bug from the first week of shooting had basically knocked out Vanessa who ended up leaving early and started its work on me, Alex, Melissa, and several others. It was our first outdoor shooting day and we found a beautiful spot in Oakland. However it was right inbetween two churches and on a Sunday that became a bit busier than than we expected. Sound was a challenge, and we ended up shooting many takes MOS (without sound) for speed's sake. This was the critical "entrance into the forest" shot and I had taken a risk by setting it in a much rougher space than it had been written. I wanted it to be scarier that she was going in. More of a point of no return. So my actor had to literally crawl on her belly under the fence to accomplish the goal. Thankfully I cast an excellent, dedicated actor and she was up for it. Melissa was shocked that I was endangering the costuepme so early on in the shooting process. I had no answer for her. 

There was a lovely moment as we got out last shot of that scene. Ari, Alex and I had all gone under to the other side of the fence to get the shot of her crawling through. The terrain was too difficult for Ari to pull focus so she and I helped to support Alex as he operated. As Laura walked by the camera Alex started losing balance, and imstart d loosing balance, and air started loosing balance, and we succeeded in a slow motion fall in each other's arms into the fence and buckeye brambles that cracked all of us up. There's a metaphor there for what production can be like. What being on a team leaning out for something can feel like. It felt safe. And daring.

We grabbed the "walking through town" shots after lunch with a skeleton crew. Some had gone home sick already. We wrapped around two.

We were planning on shooting the next day for the finale shots. It was to be the longest day busy far, comprising both the forest wandering sequence and the climax at the tree. But I was exhausted. I went up to the location to finalize our scout and prepare the map. On the phone with Stacie on the way home I admitted that I was worried about the shoot. Worried that I wasn't at 100percent. More like 50. She was concerned about that and was concerned for the other team members who were already struggling. It was looking like Vanessa would be able to be there at all.

There's a strange balance with production. You want the show to go on. There's a producer fear that if you give up a day that's been planned you'll never get it back. You'll loose momentum. The crew will loose confidence. I was scared to let the day go and have this happen. Stacie said she would call around the crew and find out of there was another day that would work. Maybe the following Friday. I got off the phone worried. But secretly hoping we would put it off. I was exhausted.

I was eating dinner with Kate an hour later and Stacie called saying everyone could do it on the Friday. We unanimously agreed that that was the best bet. Relieved I returned to dinner with a big smile and ordered some wine.

Certain things have their own clock. Sometimes it just needs a little more time. I need to remember that now as we look ahead into post production.

The next four days I was in bed trying my hardest to keep the cold from taking me down completely. I drank tea and slept and did the whole thing. I knew I had to be ready by Friday.

DAY 3

Friday came and it was time. An early call at Stacies and then a caravan to the top. We had talked about four locations but Vanessa talked me down to three. Some footage had been corrupted from our second day of shooting and I wanted to squeeze it in. Vanessa talked me down. It was promised to be an extremely hot day - maybe the hottest of the summer. Exhausting the crew was a bad idea.

Our first locations were deep in the forest. Bay and chaparral and plenty of poison oak. But at least it would be cool in the shade. We made our base camp near the road and then hiked in to our first location, about twenty minutes hiking. Stacie and Melissa were on water and provisions duty. Not an easy task. Because of a miscalculation we arrived at the first location without enough water. This would keep happening throughout the day. The one thing we needed desperately was water to be abundant and available. Despite this the crew was locked in almost immediately. The time off had been restful for everyone. We were all excited to be out in the woods at last. It was the terrain of creativity. Of mysticism. Of what the writer had been seeking. Frankly what I had been seeking. And all of us. I love the idea that this film and this character is in some way a champion for all of us. For all of us a chance to do something challenging and creative and walk in a path-less land.

After lunch we did some more of the deep wood shots. These ones were on flat ground. Challenging because I wanted a very shallow depth of field we shot on a 50 prime at 1.8. Again a huge challenge for Alex and ari. We wrapped there and moved ahead of schedule to the final location: the tree.

It was hot. I had taken a DayQuil to keep from coughing during takes and it was starting to cook my brain. Stacie gave me water and some food. We had time to assess the location before the light got sweet. I was glad, I needed the time. This was going to be the most experimental sequence. We knew a bunch of moments we wanted to get. Her walking up. Her seeing the tree. Her taking off her jacket. But I wanted to shoot it impressionistically. Wide lens, following her, improvising. Letting her explore, and Alex explore visually. For that we needed time and stamina.

Alex and i walked through our route and then talked the rest of the crew through it. Everyone would need to stay behind the camera during takes which would be its own challenge. We wound up and did our first one. It was magical watching it unfold. I really just watched walking along behind Alex and Ari and Kris. The rehearsals with Laura were now being allowed to play out. I could just watch and see her explore. It was very beautiful.

We talked though what worked and what didn't from all sides and then did another take.

From this point forward we were on a ticking clock. We need to make sure that we got all the coverage we needed during the late afternoon sun. Once the sun set, there would be no way to match the shots. We basically had one hour.

We moved up into the tree to get some for coverage of her experience in the tree. To make sure that we had enough of the moments of her having her catharsis. We put Alex up in the tree on a very small branch, and let him watch from above as she came up into the tree and was on my level with her when she was up there. We took a look at the footage and then decide we need needed a closer lens. So we gave him something closer, and to the scene again.

We then did the same action but camera staying in front of her instead of behind her going up to the tree to make sure we got coverage for face and her reactions. We felt we covered the scene well, so we waited for the sun to get even lower to really get that golden light. Once it did, we did the whole sequence again. Following her up, and then leading her up with the low light. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful time of day to be up there, and a beautiful experience working so closely with these people in this beautiful setting working on this beautiful idea.

We had a final shot to get with the tree and the sun behind. Ari, Alex and I did that one a couple of times, Ari cradling Alex is he leaned back. It was another lovely moment.

The sunset was so exquisite it really took our breath away. And we had gotten all the shots.

There's something that I've been trying to understand recently about adversity. Whether to avoid it, whether it's presence means something is wrong. I think when I was younger I used to really believe that if things were difficult it meant that I was on the wrong path. I begin to see now that adversity is a way to test a person's resolve. To challenge them. To give them an opportunity to grow and transform themselves as they meet the challenge. I really saw that in this crew especially on the last day. We had been through a lot by then. And we had figured out how to work together to support each other. It was an amazing feeling doing that last sequence and working seamlessly together. Feeling of mutual support. Shared aim. Hard to really put into words exactly what it was. But it felt good. And part of that was a result of the difficulties we had faced earlier in the day and earlier in the week. the bliss on that hilltop by the tree watching the sunset in some ways was only really possible after so much struggle.

We had done it. We had made an idea a reality. Now it was time to edit all that footage together.

Project: Fading

Writer's room

I’ve talked a lot about wanting to create personal work. To see my working time as an expression of the deeper values I hold. Creativity, collaboration, art and expression, my emotional connection with nature, my emotional connection with myself. Stacie Sells, a collaborator from my previous job, came to me with a script.

I love stories about people yearning to transcend. The stories that have protagonists confused but reaching. Needing something they cannot define. A subconscious hunger than drives them out of where they know, into some place dangerous, wild, uncharted, and transformative. The last film I directed was this: Girl in the Grass. It was about the fear and wonder I feel in wild, desolate places. Places that civilization has turned its back on.

Pre-vis for Fading

“Fading” is short script about a woman who is a consummate writer - but is blocked. She has everything in control - a room of her own, a way of working, the tools, the talent. But she has lost her voice. Searching for inspiration she sets out onto the suburban streets that surround her. She looks for something that might mean something to her. But she fails. By accident, she comes across a trail opening - going into a rough, dark, and unmaintained wilderness. Close to her home, but far, far away. She goes in. Her wonder turns to fear. 

To me it’s a journey to connect the conscious with the subconscious mind. A journey to reconnect with creativity, with hope, with her voice. A journey to touch the wilderness, which is both chaos and inspiration. Out of control, ripe with truth. This is my cup of tea. 

Location Scout

For me personally this is the first step in a larger journey. I’ve done a lot of soul searching in the last months. My dream has become clear: to direct feature films. Films that explore my emotional connection to nature, my quest and yearning to understand my place, myself, desire, love, humanity, mistakes, the group and the outsider. Dependence and self-reliance. My deep love of the human being and my doubt of the human being. The work leading up to this - my old jobs, my other projects - has been to fine tune my craft, my sense of quality, my sense of leadership, collaboration. Now it is time to climb the mountain itself.

I’m bringing together many of my beloved collaborators from my old job to begin. Scaling up to something larger, something grander, something that can be shown on the mountain top. Something to give all of my creative energy to.

Stacie has given a beautiful script to explore these themes. I’ve cast a lovely actor I met on another of Stacie’s projects. I’ve been bringing on more and more people I want to work with and want to remain connected with as friends and colleagues. A group. Talented, enthusiastic, creative, curious. Excited to work on something creative. I am excited and feel that there is something really special here. A potential about to be tapped. Beauty merged with idea. Quality merged with meaning. Art with action. Personal work with vocation. 

channeling Ted Hope on producing

We begin shooting on Sunday. The project will be a haiku - asking to delve deeply with only a few short lines. Asking us to move a great distance in a short time: An inner journey as well as an outer one. 

I can’t wait to share it. #fading

Fading

When her steps take her

far away from her writing room

hope awakens, darkly

Film Review: The Long Riders

Seeing films is really important for me. The beauty of the film as an art form is that it becomes a prolonged meditation on a theme: nature, self reliance, the individual - anything the filmmakers deeply care about. And even things that they might not anticipate. The magic of the confluence of the music and the scenery and the acting and the script. It's a beautiful experience. I had the pleasure of watching The Long Riders at the Castro recently. Here's my review of it, it's themes, and how they relate to my Personal Work. And frankly, it couldn't have come at a better time as I wrestle with my new found identity as one "outside of the Company" and newly reintroduced to my cowboy life. There is hope here, amidst the tragedy.

If Peckinpaw ended the western, Robert Hill didn't get the message. Beautiful casting of real brothers across the board, Long Riders is a nostalgic, romantic, sad, brutal epitaph to the western age, a sense of holy individualism, and the Rebel identity in popular America. The Northern Industry dominates Southern Self-Reliance. Law forces out Free Will. The wealthy Company man over the boot strapped Individualist. And Company over Clan.

The story opens with a bank heist that goes a little shy of what the robbers - the Jesse James/Young gang - hope for. One of the brothers gets a wild hare and tries to scare a clerk into opening the safe. He's too reckless and ends of killing him. As the gang recollects on a riverbank later on, Jesse James tells the man he's done. That kind of behavior won't stand.

A classic picture is soon drawn of an independent, ex-rebel now-western continent of men who did not find satisfaction or meaning in the new Northern American identity of Industry and Corporation (E pluribus Unum) and therefor live outside of it. Outlaws. Closely bonded with their family, taking care of themselves, being self-responsible and self-reliant.

This film is not shy to include the ex-rebel quality of these men. They had fought for the south. They were still fiercely patriotic for it. In a brothel in the third scene, the band begins playing a northern song, and one of our gang grows angry. He goes over to the band and at gunpoint demands a southern anthem. Which is played. (wonderful hearing these authentic period songs by the way. Apparently the music superviser of this film was quite famous, he elicited applause whenever he came up in the credits).

It's a late western, which means it is a tragedy. Like Peckinpaws, their era is ending. They are fighting against the dying of the light. And the dying of their own ability to carry on as wild men.

It's illustrated in two ways: Their life versus the Corporation signified by the Pinkertons (to come) and the North, and by their own emotional desire to connect with their women. Every major character in the gang has a woman whom they care about, and have for some time. David Carradine is in love with a very expensive prostitute with whom he clearly shares a long past. Jesse James has a love that he has postponed for at least ten years and to whom he proposes in a very sweet and touching scene  at the end of Act 1 on her family farm. These men are craving the family life of their own. They are craving the sweetness and softness of the feminine, of the domestic. The director clearly has great sympathy for this idea, but I can't help wonder as I sit in the theater of the influence on them isn't too softening (as is often the case, the female connection becomes the Achilles' heel of the otherwise invincible romantic hero. Is it just me?).

But there is something interesting in the scene between Jesse and his love. He says quite honestly, with wonderful integrity (the acting here is superb) that he's not going to change who he is or the way he lives for her, or by marrying her. He is who he is.

This underline is important. At least in intent, he is not planning on compromising this rebel quality, or his outlaw vocation. The pole of the morality of the film. Even as he enters into matrimony, he intends to keep his self reliance, self-direction, self-authority, self-responsibility.

This is particularly touching to me, frankly, having come out of a marriage not so long ago wherein I really sacrificed those elements in order to be as much a part of the relationship as possible. All of those things seemed sacrifice-able to be part of the "corporation" of the relationship - the "third body" that is talked about in marriage. And with relationships. A third person is created between the two. It didn't go well for me.

They do get married, and the other men make their efforts towards domestic partnerships as well. Theres a wonderful sweet seventies romance to the scenes, Vaseline may well have been used on the lenses. And it works. It takes us to the wistful place of album covers from that era. Places that Lana Del Rey dreams of.

Obviously the Pinkertons become stronger. The James's start knocking down trains as well as banks and the ire of the Industrial State is aroused. The metonym of the railroad is beautiful. The rail road: like a piercing bullet into the previously wild and unapproachable west. The only people who could reach the West before was by their own muscles, their own intelligence and planning, their sacrifice, their intense struggle. Once the rail road went in, the strength of the many, of the Corporation, could clear the swath for the meek, those that follow.

Major themes: The North stands for Industry, and really Corporation (E Pluribus Unum). The Pinkertons are the Company of the North that through their innovation are amassing huge caches of money and hiring help to fight off the Outlaws. The South (and by proxy the West) stand for independence. Clannishnes. Taking care of one's self. Writing one's own rules. The North stands for dependence on the head, dependence on the superior man who is not you. Depending on the company. The South/West stand for being self reliant. Self directed. Clear in ones desires. Accepting the compromises. Accepting responsibility for all that happens to you.

The plot continues on, the loves become stronger, the antagonists become stronger. And for a while they even give up outlawing and are forced into hiding by the force of the Pinkertons. The tragedy of the movie comes late, when after all the struggles and the attacks by the Pinkertons, and the gang being almost subconsciously unable to shake their Wild natures, plan a distant northern town - Wisconson? - where a great load is being kept in a bank. When they reach the town and reach the bank, they learn that the safe has been programmed with a clock (industry's advancing technology) and that "the whole town is ready for them" that the Pinkertons have prepared everyone. A bloodbath ensues as the James gang tries to escape with their lives.

The town themselves had become peopled with agents of the Pinkertons, not directly, not because they were hired as the earlier ones were, but by the sheer pressure of the corporate force, the desire to be protected by a large clean idea like industry, like oneness, like E pluribus Unum, even though it is the Pinkertons that make all the money. The meek are in a way protected by this in a way that the James gang wouldn't protect. It's a new era of progress and safety and civility. For those living in the town, it's obvious who the good guys are and who the bad ones are.

The James gang protected their own. They stood for Clannishness. One's family and those closest to you. The town was protected by a sense of being - what - owned? lifted up? by the industrial - by that which was above them.

You can sense me driving this point home. This is very much how I felt at a corporation - even a startup corporation. The startup was in some ways worse, and I'll explain why. There I was, a cowboy who had been on the range for ten years, working every which way, scrapping and making my own path, as best I could. I entered the Company as a skilled lead who had the experience and the maturity to be able to lead. I was given health insurance, a transit card, a paycheck with social security taken out of it, stock options, and a 401k. Suddenly I was wrapped up in the fold of the Pinkerton's protection. How was this different? maybe because it was a startup it almost felt like a James gang - we were "disrupting education" and compared to a Microsoft or any other larger company, it was scrappy. But was it clannish? Did it actually take care of it's own?

The problem with the Pinkerton Corporation model is that the whole is worth more than the individual. The good of the many (or the Corporation itself) outweighs the good of the few (the workers). At any time a decision can be made that defends the Corporation but betrays the Workers. This is obvious. "We're a company, we're doing business."

And that's where the sense of tragedy exists in a way. Certainly for me. I seemed to be protected, I thought I was, I felt like I was secure. I was staff. I was senior staff. I was one of the clan - protect your own, I was part of that fabric.

Being part of a layoff is a complex thing. There are many decisions that are made and they are important for those making them. But for the individual, there is an identity crisis that occurs. "I was protected, now I am not. I was important, now I am not. I was indispensable, now I am not. I had a family, now I do not. I had a Clan, now I am clan-less."

The beauty really of the James Gang moral pole is that whether you are alive or dead, thriving or struggling, alone or in a group, you always have your Clan, and you always have your Individuality. Those are the two highest goods. Those are the two things you fight to protect. Those are the values you defend and those are the things that cannot be taken away from you. Not by Pinkertons, not by Lincoln, not by anyone. They may not be recognized by the Corporation, but that really doesn't matter. Recognition by the corporation is not the high value.

This has been an opportunity for me, honestly, to reconnect with my rebel nature, my wild west outlaw personality that values the individual, values self-reliance, self-authority. I've been thankful for it for that reason.

It's also proving an opportunity to define my Clan. Those in my family, those my old friends, those my collaborators, my new and old ones. When I left that campus for the last time, I walked away from a huge number of talented, funny, intelligent, caring people who I was worried I would be disconnected from forever - whom I would loose because the Company had decided I was now "Outside of the Clan". I've decided to take this time to identify my Clan, those that I met at the Company, those who are individuals too, those whom I value. Because ultimately those people, those "allies", those of my Tribe or Clan, cannot be taken away by a Pinkerton law, by a company's decision. The bravery is now in my lap, to claim my Clan, to choose my collaborators, without the approval of the Company.

I think as I continue this quest into Personal work, and I ask whether I would work at a corporation again, I have to ask if I would be able to keep my sense of Clan and my sense of Individuality when I walked in those gates. Even in the charming, seductive, "wild west" nature of these startups. It perhaps goes double into the question of Romantic Love and whether it is a "softener" or a "strengthener" as it ties bonds of Clan. Individuals who have chosen each other. To remain self-reliant within the relationship? To remain self-validated within the Corporation? The Long Riders has given me the opportunity to really meditate on these problems. These questions.

In The Long Riders, The Corporation, ultimately, is anti-thetical to the Individual. Anti-thetical to self-reliance, self-authority, self-direction, self-validation, self-awareness, self-responsibility. Where does this Rebel Spirit live if it has been suffocated in modern post-industrial civilization and occupation?

Collaborators: Michael Mason

One of my first collaborators in New York was Michael Mason. I had just moved and was still living in an artists sublet in the garment district. Basically a large rehearsal space cordoned off by curtains. Through my one contact in New York, Vanessa Sparling, I had connected to the artistic director of a new company, had interviewed with them, and was now directing for the very newly formed Working Man's Clothes. A conglomeration of Texans and other southerners dedicated to breaking into the New York theater scene with authentic, original theater. I was casting at the New School for drama and saw my leading man - intuitive, natural, scratchy voice, perfect instincts, long lanky body, sex appeal. All the girls reading with him were falling in love with him. The perfect male lead. I cast him.

We did our first festival of plays "more for your money" and I was looped into the fold. Michael soon became my proxy in show after show and film projects on the side. Ideas would go through him. Projects would need his interest. His jäger-induced extremes would forever color the tapestries of my memories of New York and its west village. By the end of the show I was able to call him my friend. 

What characterized Michael singularly was self-direction. He was notoriously hard to pin down, hard to define, hard to get to come to meetings, hard to get to buy into a show. But when he did, he was lightning in a bottle. 

Many millions of gallons of water under the bridge. I moved away from New York, settled in San Francisco. He moved away from New York, into Texas. His girlfriend, Teresa, has just finished a residency at the Headlands institute and the show is a YBCA. He has an hour to grab a drink. Done. 

We went to Jillians and sat in front of the great wall of sports TVs and drank pilsner and well tequila (my choice) and talked about my shit. Divorce. New relationships. Layoff. New opportunities for personal work. Little films. Creating every day. Then bud light and fireball (his choice) and Teresa - two months together in Texas coming up - an acting award for his work as Stanley in Streetcar, and a new project - a children's illustrated book. 

He was newly bearded and I complimented him on it. "Teresa hates it," he said, "But I said to her, baby, if I cut off this beard because you wanted me to, I wouldn't deserve you, or the beard."

Something about Michael reminds me and reinforces in me a sentiment that I have been struggling to understand as I've separated from my ex and now this job. "Demonstrate independence from her opinion." Act despite disapproval. Act without permission. Act because it is true in you.

The "her" might be Teresa, or a job, or the internet. The World. I must do work because I want to do it. Because I feel it's important. Independent of opinion.

Below is my tone piece I shot with Michael a few years ago for my Feature project about the last man on earth. Take a look:

Good to see you, Michael.
Find him at https://www.facebook.com/aztececonomy?fref=ts
and http://newyorkisdead.net

Nature is bigger than me

I went on a trip up the delta this past week. First to scout, (I wrote about that a few days ago) then to have an annual friend party. We camped at a state rec area up near rio vista and barged around the river enjoying each other's company. 

This time the power of the place came out at night. We had returned to the group site as the sun set. We changed into dry clothes and clambered up the bluff to catch the last rays of the sun. They burned and pressed through the distant haze and windmills and fell welcome on our cold windswept faces. One of our party found a great blonde mantis in the grass. We all looked in fear and wonder. 

The sun set and we gathered wood. Not much to be seen. I spied a widow maker up in a willow tree. Bill spotted as I climbed up and felt like a kid, imagining my booted feet as barefoot, my hands grasped boldly although the light was almost gone. Bill said, "Dave, you're in the sky" and I felt safe and glad. He handed up a long stick and I used it to free the cracked branch. Up in the wind of the willow. 

We spotted an old oak - taken over almost by mistletoe. Great bare branches. "We need a rope" and someone had brought fifty feet of climbing rope. I carefully coiled it over-under and got the feel for it. We chose a little branch to build our confidence. One toss - over. Bill grabbed one side, I the other, we backed up making a triangle. Pulled, snap. Piece of cake. 

Tori joined us and saved us when half the line had made it over a big important branch but it was too high for us to reach. Rowan who had also joined attempted vainly to lift bill on his shoulders. Tori said, "here, Bill, I'll stand on your shoulders." "What!?" "Here, just squat a little bit to give me a foothold. Here" "she's got this Bill, don't worry" I said. She had been a vaulter in her youth. I kindof loved seeing them doing this together. They're steady boyfriend and girlfriend. She literally got up and stood hands free on his shoulders. I was helping spotting - we walked five feet forward - and she got the rope. Yes. 

Rowan and I pulled and snapped the branch. The rope was still around the whole of the big branch and a cluster of others. We tried to keep pulling to get the other little guys but it was the big one that started cracking. "That's the big one guys" bill said adding caution. "Stand clear!" I shouted. I could see in Rowans face he wanted it. He looked at me and said, "the wind would blow it down anyway." "Yeah," I said. And we pulled. And it cracked, and it fell in glory and shattered on the ground. Thirty feet of glorious rotten oak. "Well," Bill said, "the wood problem is solved."

We got the fire going and ate and drank. Sang songs. Danced to 90s house music. 

Later on when it was really dark, I took a walk out along the road leading in. I walked slowly and let the noises of my friends and the light from the fire get smaller and smaller. The noises of the wind and the light from the stars got stronger and stronger. A big tree towered before me, wishing and bending in the wind. I saw for the first time how all the trees here are shaped with the wind. Yearning eastward. And the windmills in the distance and the windswept water and windswept grassland. And windswept me. Out here in it. I had this realization. The realization that really correlates with all my artistic interest. Nature is bigger than me. Nature, the larger system, is longer and wider and more subtle and more complex and more everlasting than me. Trees are taller. Even if I cut them down they - as part of nature - are far more lasting than I am. They go on and on. Out in a wild place like this, the power and magnitude of nature are clear. The human edifices are quaint. Minor. A bathroom and an electric light. A tent about to break loose from its tentative hold on the earth. A twinkling fire. The grass is great. The trees are tall. The wind is traveling for hundreds? Thousands of miles? The starlight? Awe is the emotion I most acutely feel when relating to nature. Awe. Sometimes fear, but connecting and preparing awe. 

I decided that night I need to spend more time in wild nature in the next few weeks. It's like the mainline. The mainline for this feeling that I am cultivating as I look at clouds through street lights and leaves backlit by the sun. This emotional connection to nature. 

Story: Caterpillar Butterfly

I've thought a lot about story and my love of it and fear if it and feelings of not understanding it and wanting to understand it. I've often felt intimidated or confused when film makers say that they're storytellers. "I'm a storyteller. I tell visual stories. I just love stories." 

I do too. Don't get me wrong. I love movies and stories of every type. Something about the way my mind interprets the world I haven't always know what story is made up of. All the "plot points" all the "beats" the "act one-two-three" and don't get me started with the "point of no return". It's all tools and words and systems that have been confusing to me. I've read the books. "Screenplay" by Syd Field. "Story" by Robert McKee. "Three Uses of a Knife" by David Mamet. I've really delved and searched. "Poetics" for god's sake. But what does it all mean?

As I've started making these short films - the little 10-30 second ones I've been posting on facebook and Instagram and now cataloging on YouTube - I've had to ask what makes this diffrent from a photograph? How is this not just a picture? Just a portrait of an instant? A long portrait? I don't want to do just a sitting portrait. While nice, I think a photograph does it just as well if not better. So what is needed for it to be a film, and therefor have a story? A narrative?

I came up with these two things. 

Hero.

It has to have a single subject. I directed a food photography workshop and the main takeaway I got from the excellent instructors was: choose a hero on the plate. They did a shoot of a bowl of chili and there was some garnish and a nice bowl and a nice table and nice light. But the instructor was very clear and unapologetic about taking about about five beans from the chilli and washing them and looking at them and deciding which was her favorite. Which was the hero? Then she placed those beans back in carefully and angled on the hero. Made sure that as the pictures started rolling the hero was clear. 

So, that was back to photography, but it applies. Choose a hero of the story and don't forget who it is. 

Now, what's the second thing that's needed? 

Change.

Change is the crucial part that makes it an art in time. Tarkovsky - my favorite director - was famous for his long takes. He disagreed with Eisenstien and his theory of montage (editing creates meaning) feeling that deeper understanding of a moment comes from saturation over time during single takes (saturation creates meaning). What this means for him is tons of beautiful long tracking shots through forests, over streams, into the dark shadows of a bedroom as the hero, almost obscured from in the darkness, falls asleep. And into a dream. His memoir/book of essays is called "Sculpting in Time". In this way film is a temporal art. Like music, like dance. It requires duration to experience the change. 

So in a single shot he achieves change. Hero, change. 

That's what I'm trying to do in my small films. Single shot, hero, change. Even if subtle. 

Because here's what it all boils down to, as far as I can tell. A story is the journey of a caterpillar to a butterfly. That's it. That's all I can really see as true. The hero caterpillar her begins the story, and is transformed through time in the unity of space into a hero caterpillar. 

And what I love about this butterfly metaphor is that it implies the development into its essential self. Into it's deeper self. It's destiny. It packs in all the humanistic developmental excitement I could want in a single image. Luke Skywalker begins a caterpillar, farm boy who doesn't know what his life means, he ends a Butterfly: master of the force and reclaimer of his family's destiny. The stop light begins red, a caterpillar hero, it turns green: butterfly. A leaf begins frontlit, caterpillar, ends backlit and ecstaticly revealing it's inner composition: butterfly. 

I like subtle. I think for me the essential guide is: if this is the caterpillar, when is the butterfly?