The Doc Doctor–Argentinian or Kryptonian…or Both?

I’m volunteering at a three day documentary workshop at URBAN-15. I’s been brought to town by NALIP (one of the very few film organizations I’ve ever belonged to which I can give unqualified praise). Kathryn Galan, Executive Director of the National Association of Latino Independent Producers, came into to town to run this event. There are different pay levels for the weekend, but none over $150 dollars. It seemed steep to me at first, but after hearing that a two day grant writing seminar happening downtown earlier in the week cost about $450, I had to change my opinion.

The workshop is being given by Fernanda Rossi, the “Documentary Doctor.” She’s fucking amazing. Clever, quick-witted, and unbelievably energetic. I’m looking forward to tomorrow when we get into the nuts and bolts of creating trailers to use for seeking funding.

Last night we began the event with a screening of Gemma Cubero del Barrio’s wonderful documentary on women bullfighters, “Ella es el Matador (She is the Matador).” (The title comes from this great scene in the film. One of the Matador’s has been knocked over and trampled by the bull. She’s rushed to the hospital. Two doctors are looking over her injuries, which turn out to be not so bad. One of the doctors scratches his head. “A bull? She got in the ring?” To which the other doctor, a woman, responds, rolling her eyes: “She’s the Matador.” Gemma Cubero del Barrio (one of the two women who made this movie) was in attendance. She talked to us about the film. It’s been showing recently on POV–I believe it’s coming soon to San Antonio PBS. If you see it listed or otherwise available, make sure to see it. Even if, like me, you have little interest in bullfighting, or even, understandably, an outright revulsion. It’s solid storytelling, and the women provide interesting insight into this world.

This morning I returned to URBAN-15 to help set up for the first day we’d be working with Ms. Rossi. I was up in the performance space when Fernanda came in. She seemed very unassuming, almost mousy. George tried to set her at ease by making a few jokes (as is his nature). She either wasn’t listening, or chose to ignore his comments. She was extremely focused and professional. She wanted the chairs arranged just so. A table over there, at an angle, a little lectern there. Don’t get me wrong, she was very gracious. But you know, all business. So I was somewhat pushed off balance when the session began and she turned on the charm and charisma. She was sure and confident in the manner in which she built rapport with the audience. There were between 25 and 30 people, and she connected with us all.

There’s an actor I’ve worked with on several occasions. He has energy and charisma, but he can’t pace himself. I’ve watched him, on multiple occasions, burn himself out before the first scene was ever shot–you, know, playing and monkeying around for the cast and crew. Fernanda knows how to pace herself. When she’s “on,” doing her thing, she’s Kryptonian to the max. Otherwise, it’s more Clark Kent, hanging out over at the water cooler.

Make sure to get her book: “Trailer Mechanics: A Guide to Making Your Documentary Fundraising Trailer.” Again, her name’s Fernanda Rossi. It’s only $22.95 (though I picked mine up today for twenty bucks). Find it on Amazon.

http://www.amazon.com/Trailer-Mechanics-Making-Documentary-Fundraising/dp/0976458101/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1257651524&sr=8-1-spell

Check out Fernanda Rossi’s website:

http://www.documentarydoctor.com/

During our lunch break were were given presentations by representatives of LPB (Latino Public Broadcasting), ITVS (Independent Television Service), and KLRN (the San Antonio PBS affiliate station).

After Ms. Rossi was done for the day (about five), we broke into groups at talk with “mentors”–production and distribution professionals brought in just for this event. I felt very lucky that I was able to meet with Hector Galan. Hector’s a producer and filmmaker based in Austin. You can check him out on IMDB and you’ll get an idea of what he’s done. But the truth is that Hector, like so many people in this business, has involved himself intimately and importantly in projects you’ve probably seen, but in which he was never credited. He’s the real deal. A man who everyone respects and no one (no one I know of) speaks ill of. I’d seen him at various events, but until tonight I’d never spoken with him.

When I pitched my idea of a documentary about the Jumano Apaches of far west Texas and their hopes to become recognized as an indigenous people, he was encouraging. He gave me some interesting and insightful feedback. But there was also another person sitting in on our small group’s pitch session. She works for a Texas arts and cultural organization. In a lull between me and Hector’s conversation, she said that my idea sounded like something her organization might be interested in. Of course I asked for her card. Back home I looked up the organization. I couldn’t quite see how this group would be interested in a film project. Still, I’ll certainly be keeping in touch with this woman.

We had people show up who were from Houston, Dallas, Fort Worth, Austin, Albuquerque, Missouri, California, and New York. I only wish more San Antonio filmmakers had understood the importance of this event. Without even stopping to scratch my head, I can think of five local filmmakers who would have benefitted enormously from this event…yet they never even showed the slightest interest.

There were people with projects on Bob Wills, Salsa (the foodstuff, not the dance), the Texas border wall, the Pope visiting New York in 2008, a specific type of Caribbean music I’m not familiar with, Native American land rights in New Mexico, and loads of other topics I can’t remember.

There were two women who were from Houston (if I recall correctly). They had some killer footage–clearly they knew something about production. There was another woman (I remember seeing her at the NALIP national conference earlier in the year) who has never made a film before. But her passion, clarity, and professional demeanor make me think she’ll make a great film very soon.

American Movie and American King–Weagle Rules!

This November began fairly well. It’s not as chilly as it was last year. In fact, I still haven’t got my water heater fixed. I guess I’d better get that dealt with next week. My luck can’t run this golden much longer.

I’ve entered the National Novel Writing Month contest again. The idea is to generate 50,000 words in the month of November. I’m currently up to speed with 9,606 words. In fact I’m 1,546 words ahead of the game. This means I almost have a free day to goof off. But I’d better be careful. I’m only five days in. The last time I did this (was it three years back?), I began to slack and drift and then I realized I would never be able to catch up.

This weekend is a NALIP-sponsored documentary workshop. A three day intensive event. My challenge will be to find time this weekend to keep my work\d count up to par while still keeping up with the workshop.

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Tonight I dropped by El Tropicano hotel–there in their wonderful ’60s-era bar, all bamboo, Mai Tais, and live parrots getting all vocal and obstreperous. Janet Vasquez, with the San Antonio Film Commission, was there to herald in the first of several mixers for the Film Commission’s annual 48 Hour Film Experience. I believe there are about 12 teams already signed up. However, this first mixer was a small gathering. We had, if my count is correct, 13 people.

I’m playing this year, on a team with Pete Barnstrom.

It should be fun.

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I finally finished watching “American Movie” this afternoon. It’s on Netflix’s free view for members. I remember when this came out because the subject of this documentary, Mark Borchardt, was appearing on the talk show circuit. I recall watching him on David Letterman.

It’s a painful film for filmmakers to watch. It’s about a self-important looser who wants to be a respected filmmaker. And people like myself know a lot of Mark Borchardts. Often, we fear that we are Mark Borchardt.

It’s hell of a documentary, and I think it deserved the 1999 Grand Jury Prize for Documentary at Sundance. But, again, if you are out there making movies which are funded from your back pocket, this film might break your heart, your spirit.

And here’s the big problem. No matter what a fucked-up jackass this heroic looser of a filmmaker Mark Borchardt may be, his work shows promise, and probably he’s a better filmmaker than you are.

I suspect that “American Movie,” (by Chris Smith and Sarah Price) will be a painful watch for wanna be independent filmmakers, but a rollicking laugh-fest for everyone else.

Definitely check it out.

And then, check out the real deal. Filmmaker Chris Weagel has been generating these brilliant video blogs about his fucked up friend, Garrett. Head to the Human Dog Production’s website and wallow about in this amazing salad of Americana. “American Movie” hints at this world, Weagle’s “American King” delivers.

http://human-dog.com/

Man-Sized Barbacoa & Big Red For Mañana

Ah, Halloween. The day when folks with facial tattoos can walk the streets with their heads held high; however, those goth kids can’t elicit the usual disdain from the public, not even if their lives depended upon it (the one day out of the year we all find them so adorable!).

Tonight, for Halloween, I’m laying low with the lights off. Just a few candles, the glow off this laptop, and the slow flash off a battery charger parked at my elbow. I wish my friend Kat had called me up as she has in past years, to sit on my porch with me giving out candy to the thousands of kids who surge through this neighborhood. This is hardcore, and if you can’t stock up with about fifty pounds of candy, don’t even bother. So I’m not. It just isn’t in my budget. But as I have the inside lights and porch light off there’s little reason anyone would come up to my door. Besides, where’s the appeal? There are five houses on this short block alone who have lights on and loud music and sound effects blaring. They’re shoving out the candy.

Tonight it’s the deadline for Luminria artist proposals. I got a call earlier in the day from a couple who said they might drop by before midnight to drop theirs off. This means either, a.) their social life is more pathetic than mine, or, b.) midnight’s just when things begin happening for them. By three-thirty this afternoon we were up to 22 film proposals. I know of four that will be put their stuff in the mail slot tonight at C4, and two that were mailed today. I’m expecting at least 30 in all, hopefully more. I’m not certain, but that sounds about how things were for 2009.

I’ll probably walk across the street in an hour or so to my neighbors’ porch and help pass out some candy. It’s an excellent opportunity for me to mooch off their party snacks. Usually, for their Halloween parties, there’s a pot of chili simmering in the kitchen. They’ve decorated their house in an Indian motif, complete with some K-Tel Best of Indian Tribal Chants on the sound system. Across the street, the other neighbors have a cowboy theme. Boot Hill and such. They’re blasting the best of Marty Robbins. I hope their country and western repertoire runs a bit deeper…though it certainly could be worse.

At midnight, when November begins, I’m aiming to get a jump on my novel for National Novel Writing Month. The plan is to write just over 1,600 words a day for the entire month.

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Well, I did it. I hung out some with my neighbors, mooched some tasty chili, and saw loads of kids in cute costumes soliciting goodies.

It hard to see, but this is a bag of barbacoa and a can of Big Red (for those from out of town, this is the San Antonio breakfast of champions–especially for those suffering a champion hangover). I wish I could have gotten them in a better shot.

Here we have a family of Shriners.

Spooky old mansion across the street from me.

The cowboy house next door.

And the Indian camp across the street from them.

And this scene which might have seemed somewhat politically incorrect had only Chip still been wearing his Indian costume.

I hope everyone had a safe and fun Halloween.

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I’ve been toying some with shooting in the RAW setting on my camera. These are larger, uncompressed files. This is the first camera I’ve owned that allows me to shoot in this format. I’ve seen it compared to digital “negatives.” You have much more latitude for changes if you’re working with an image editor.

I’m way behind the technology here. My background is photography using film, and that was over twenty years ago. It’s digital video (not digital still photography) in which I have experience. I was quite taken aback when I discovered that my new Panasonic Lumix shoots in it’s own proprietary RAW format. It’s called RW2, and there’s no program that came loaded on my new laptop that can read this flavor or RAW. The work-around is a program which came with my camera. I loaded it up, and it’s working fine. But this is a pain in the work-flow department. I’ve gotten used to iPhoto to capture and file my photos. But iPhoto and RW2 don’t play nice. I expect this will be remedied in a few months, but, what a pain.

Here are a couple of images I shot today in RAW. I’ve massaged them more subtly than I usually do, using Silkypix (the program that came with my camera), and GIMP (an open source image editing program along similar lines as PhotoShop). (Who comes up with these names???)

I don’t know if these images possessed enough dynamic range to really benefit from the incremental and nuanced tinkering I subjected them to. But I do like them, both for completely different reasons.

Leisurely Lunch, Lugged Lockers, & a Lascivious Luchador

Thursday I put my pick-up into service. Todd found some odd school lockers listed in the free-cycle website. We’ve been wanting some lockers at C4 so we can secure our stuff. The lockers were at a private school way up on the north side. When we arrived one of the staff came to help us carried it out. To my pleasant surprise it was local writer and filmmaker Deon van Rooyen. I don’t think I’d seen him in about a year. It’s a small town, and most all of us are enmeshed in interconnections, even if we don’t always know it.

Earlier in the day I enjoyed a nice leisurely lunch with Jorge Lopez. He talked about his upcoming film projects. I don’t know how many people caught his piece of flash fiction published by the San Antonio Current. I’m so jealous. Please, check it out:

http://www.sacurrent.com/arts/story.asp?id=70610

I was feeling a bit seedy, so after a putting in a bit of work at C4, I headed home to lounge around and get some reading done.

Just around dusk, Carlos Piña called. He was over at the Blue Star brew pub shooting a short scene for an upcoming webisode (this project is, I believe, how Carlos is releasing his sequel to his San Antonio punk rock vampire feature, “Blood Rivals.” I could hardly say know, because, a.) Carlos is a damn good friend, b.) Blue Star is only five blocks away, c.) he said he’d buy me a beer, and Blue Star makes a tasty stout, and, finally, d.) the actor he was working with is Gabe the Babe. They were all good reasons, but I really wanted to meet Gabe the Babe. I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch his real name. Gabe the Babe is his wrestling moniker. Those who have seen the excellent short documentary–”Lucha,” directed by Justin Gallegos–that came out of the Film School of San Antonio, AKA, the media program at Harlandale High School, will probably remember the most charismatic wrestler who was interviewed. Gage the Babe’s schtick is that he considers himself to be a real sex god, even though he’s a bit chunky and somewhat goofy-looking. Cocky, narcissistic, and hilarious.

The weather had shifted dramatically. I was running the AC in my car this afternoon. But we were hit with a cold front, and it was pretty fucking chilly out on the Blue Star’s patio. Gabe proved to be a babe after all. A great guy who was very engaged by Carlos’ improve style. He was portraying a financially-strapped self-involved “playa” who shows up to a date only to be stood up. My favorite line was when he’s bitching to himself out loud and how this woman should never have screwed him over because he’s “gonna fucking blog about this, dammit!” And when Gabe said “LOL” I almost lost it.

I took some photos of both Gabe and Carlos.

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I’m getting sick of all these mother fucking mosquitoes! I have a big ol’ mosquito bite on my face. My face!

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A fellow artist is talking about applying for a travel grant to India. I might be able to tag along in a collaborative fashion, shooting video. That would be awesome. This means I need to get my passport renewed. The problem is, I can’t afford it. I can’t afford to pay my rent which will be due sometime this weekend. I need to learn to prioritize. But I also need to renew my passport…so I can get out of this reactionary country (not to say that India is a progressive wonderland, but it does promise to be radically different than, say, the Super Target at the Crossroads Mall).

Also, there is talk about bringing TED to San Antonio. These satellite TEDs are called TEDx, and I need to talk some with Jennifer Saylor, who was involved in the production of the TEDx in Asheville, NC. The folks who are talking about TEDx San Antonio want my input in regards the local art scene. Man, I know at least a dozen local folks who I have always thought should be at TED.

Don’t know TED? Check it out. The archived videos are addictive. And if you don’t enjoy learning from and being inspired by these brilliant individuals, well, I guess you just have no soul. Please report for disposal. I understands the Nova ovens are always running.

Clean Your Gutters? Walk Your Dog?

Perhaps my friends know me too well. When Veronica called me at ten-thirty Wednesday morning she apologized for waking me up. And I know my voice didn’t sound sleepy, because I made it a point to answer the phone 110 percent chipper and go-getter. But she knew my game.

She wanted to know if I could fill in for her because of a scheduling conflict. She’d agreed to give a presentation to a group of high schoolers about the San Antonio chapter of NALIP. I’m not sure if the other members of our film group know just how much work Veronica, our president, does to promote NALIP. And seeing how I had no plans other than sleeping, what else could I say but yes? The dog and pony show was scheduled for noon downtown at the Radius Center. This left me plenty of time for a few cups of coffee and reviewing the second half of a short story I hammered out the previous night. Even without sugar, the coffee was much sweeter than Tuesday night’s prose. Got some tightening to do there.

As I was backing my truck out of the drive, my neighbor Ray Santisteban, who was driving by, pulled over to the curb. (For those readers who aren’t plugged into the San Antonio film community, Ray’s one of our greater success stories. He’s a damn fine filmmaker who is guaranteed to win any grant or festival I try for.) He’d just turned in his Luminaria proposal, and wanted to know if I’d had a chance to look it over. I said I’d received it, but hadn’t yet read it. He gave me a quick pitch. It sounds pretty cool, and I’m looking forward to seeing the finished work. But I had kids to talk to downtown, so I got back in my truck and headed down St. Mary’s.

(As an aside, I’ll give a last minute Luminaria plea. All you San Antonio filmmakers who read my blog, get that ass in gear! The submission deadline is Oct. 31. It’s the simplest form, like, ever. Okay? And all I want it that little piece of paperwork. Things like work samples, well, we can wait on that. Get your foot in the damn door. This is a chance to have hundreds, maybe thousands, see your work. This sort of stuff looks great on a resume. Essentially you will be able to say (if accepted) that a film you proposed was accepted into a prestigious city-wide arts event. And here’s a little secret from me to you: we’re hungry for content, and this means you have a high chance of getting your work in. Also, there is the matter of the $200 artist honorarium. A pittance, to be sure, but money for filmmakers is a rare thing in this city. Get cracking, man! And if you have any questions, call me. What’s that you say? You don’t have my number. Damn. If you are a San Antonio film person and you don’t have my number on speed dial then you’re like, um, fuck, you’re like Mark Trail without a snake bite kit. Quick, right now, key this into your phone: my cell is 210-482-0273.)

Frank, who runs the day-to-day operations at the Radius, did a kick-ass job setting the place up for those students. They’re with the Kipp charter school on the upper west side. This was something like a career day for the kids, with an emphasis on technology. They’d already been to Rackspace and KLRN.

AV equipment had been set up. I went into the office which NALIP shares with a couple other arts non-profits and selected about 25 minutes of short films from the archives. When Martin, my contact with Kipp, was ready, I made with the chin music, you know, the balloon juice, and blathered generic platitudes about the wonders and thrills of a life in film and video production (making a point, of course, not to mention myself as an example–don’t want to scare the kids off). And then we watched some movies. Let’s see, we screened Emileigh Potter and Sergio Ramos’ great little documentary on one of this city’s preeminent contemporary artist, “Alex Rubio.” Emileigh and Sergio, high school students, made this at Say Si, an after-school arts program. Next was “El Gran Machin,” directed by Aaron Richmond-Havel. This came out of NESA’s cinema program–NESA is basically San Antonio’s performing arts program. Then we watched Ya’Ke Smith’s feel-good super-short piece, “Change.” This was followed by Eric Fonseca’s “Funeral March for a Marionette,” which I believe won best film at the San Antonio film festival. We closed with Jessica Torres’ pro-education PSA, “Escuela.” Jessica did this through the Jefferson high school media program, and it got her a nomination for a Texas Emmy. The kids–and there were about 45 of them–responded well to all the pieces. I hope we got a few of them hooked to want to make their own movies.

Afterward, while walking to my truck, I realized that I had feed more then enough coins in the meter, and I really should take a stroll down the new Museum Reach of the River Walk. It has been open to the public for months. So, seeing as I was standing on Lexington, the street where the River Walk used to end, I went ahead and took the steps down to the river. Now, I had my camera, so I was stopping pretty often to take photos, so this kept me moving fairly slow. The truth is, I didn’t make it all the way to where it ends…the Witte Museum, I believe.

At least I made it down to the stretch where Carlos Cortés’ wonderfully designed grotto can be found. Not only is the artist Carlos Cortés a great guy who does wonderful work, he’s also my neighbor. It’s been bugging me that this guy lives across the street from me, and I can’t even check out his newest and biggest piece of public art. Now I can hold my head high. I’ve seen it. I’ve loved it. I’ve photographed it.

Here are some photos of my Museum Reach excursion:

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My second Ray Santisteban encounter came mid afternoon. Having hiked along the river, I drove back to my neighborhood and stopped at the Pik-Nik convenience store on S. Presa so a mess of 60 cent tacos. I saw Ray’s SUV parked at the launderette next door. I decided against walking over to say hi. He’d probably think I was stalking him.

Back home I had my tacos and caught up on some TV, via Hulu.com.

And, eventually, I realized it was time for the monthly W-I-P (Works In Progress) at the Jump-Start Performance Company. I hoofed it the two blocks to the San Antonio River. And there he was again. Ray was out walking his dogs. He nodded to me, genially. But now I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m some weirdo monitoring his movements.

I crossed the river at the low-water crossing foot path and made it to the theater just as the doors to the performance space opened.

It was a nice night. Three works. We opened with Doyle Avant. He’s an amazing writer. Maybe the best in town. And he presents his work in monolog fashion. I hesitate to compare him to Spalding Gray, but, hell, why not. I love Spalding Gray. Not only is Doyle clearly an inspired and gifted writer, he is also a hell of a performer. He has an strong voice, an impeccable sense of timing, and incredible recall–I’ve seen him do these sorts of performances maybe four times, and he has never stumbled or stammered. He’s the real deal.

Next was Anna De Luna. Many people have seen her do comedy sketches with Marisela Barrera–and they are absolutely wonderful together–but, Anna, on her own, creates powerful and poignant personal work. I don’t know if she’s yet staged a serious one-woman show, but the work she presents at W-I-P gives us a hint how extraordinary an Anna De Luna one-woman show would be.

The final performance was the Push Pens, a one-off collaboration between Dino Foxx and Cros. This they gave us a melange of poetry, hip-hop, and narrative. The two forays into rapping still need some polish. The music was too loud and microphones were too hot. But these are just technical issues. They piece really shined when each did a heart-wrenching monologue. Great writing, and smart and nuanced acting.

I’m always amazed how few people show up for the monthly W-I-P. It’s only five bucks, and you get to see truly good work.

As I was walking out of the Jump-Start, I saw Deborah walking toward me. Her studio is in the same complex. She had just finished her Luminaria proposal and she assumed I would be at the W-I-P. She handed me the paperwork, and we took a seat on a bench over by the outside staircase and talked about where things were headed with our current projects.

So, I had a nice, perfect San Antonio day, played without a plan and without a clue.

The problem is, I’m flat broke, so I have to find a plan and put an end to this giddy and unfocused drift.

Who’s got a job for me? I’m serious. Clean your gutters? Walk your dog?