Odd Shit Staged in Inexplicable Environs

This afternoon, after having lunch with a friend, I was backing out of the parking lot. I hit a chain link fence with my rear bumper. And as there was no pedestrian squashed back there, I thought nothing more of it and drove off. A couple of miles later, as I was making a left turn, my truck’s blinker noise was clicking really fast. This means a turn signal bulb has burnt out. And so, when I got home, I parked in my driveway and set my blinkers on for a left turn. Now I would be able to see if it was the front or rear signal light. I need not have bothered. Clearly the problem was with the rear light. The red plastic lens cover was busted, as was the bulb. I guess I hit not just the fence, but a fence pole. Shit. Replacing the built will be a cheap fix. As for the broken lens, I can probably find a roll of red gel (for movie lighting) around here some where. A bit of clear packing tape, and it’ll do for the short term. But really I need to give Carlos a call and see if he’ll accompany me to the Pick-N-Pull, since he knows the ropes in navigating that macho world.

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Pete and I are doing a short film for the San Antonio Film Commission’s 48 Hour Film Experience. Don’t confuse this with the national 48 Hour Film Project. The Project might be older, but, here in San Antonio, the Experience has a longer history. Our 48 Hour Film Experience is a local, grassroots contest a bit less competitive than the national version. Our event culminates with awards handed out during the Film Commission’s annual Holiday Party in December, which is THE place to see and been seen if you have any interest in San Antonio’s film, video, or media world.

I believe there are about ten teams currently signed up. I expect we’ll have a bit over 15 by the weekend of the event in early December. This Thursday night was a mixer for those interested which was held at the El Tropicano hotel lounge. We had representatives of five or six teams.

Veronica’s running an all women team. I didn’t take much in the way of photos of the event, but here’s a nice one of Allison Herrera, who’s on the girl team. It’s very much in the style of the paparazzi in the shrubbery (read: stalker). I rather like it. Allison’s very photogenic.

While other teams were talking about locations, crew positions, actors, equipment, and such, Pete was more interested in coming up with a running inventory of strange and interesting props we might be able to wrangle. (And until this very moment, I’d forgotten that I’ve used my gynecological exam table in only one film. Maybe it’s time to take it to some inexplicable location, and try and build a script from there….)

I do believe I’ve managed to talk Pete out of doing the whole thing with puppets.

Me, I happen to like flesh and blood actors.

Speaking of which, we need the acting community to come out for this “experience.” Next Thursday night, there’s another mixer at El Tropicano. Come on out San Antonio actors!

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This was a short blog. I’ve got to get back to my November novel. I’m six thousand words in arrears.

I’ve got my standing desk all set up for a long night of typing.

Time to dive back in.

The Boy Looked at Johnny, and He Ordered Capirotada

The documentary workshop over the weekend was great. I met some new film people. I only have two complaints. First, not enough San Antonio filmmakers. And, second, there seemed to have been some unwise disconnect between NALIP national, and the San Antonio NALIP chapter. Things could have run smoother. Personally, I never got a sense that we, of the San Antonio NALIP chapter, were given any consideration other than that we might be folks who’d pony up a hundred bucks to attend. I know I would have preferred volunteering at the event as a representative of the local NALIP chapter, instead of being a volunteer working with the venue. I guess I’ll chalk it up to institutional confusion. I certainly hope this sort of disharmony is only a minor hiccup, never to be repeated.

Fernanda Rossi is an extraordinary teacher/speaker. If you have even the slightest interest in learning more about documentary films, keep on top of her website: http://www.documentarydoctor.com/ because she might be coming to your town.

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My dear friend Venus Prado is now a part-timer at C4 Workspace. She was camped out at a table in the front corner catching up on work. This is good. She’s a poet, painter, feminist polemicist, photographer, writer, and on and on. Her presence will help balance our membership back a bit towards the arts. I’m not saying I have anything against all the white collar folks who are C4 members, but, the fact is, I don’t have a whole lot to say to them. But the Venuses of the world speak my language.

On a C4-related topic, Todd and Debbie have invited me to a meeting tomorrow with folks who plan to bring TEDx to San Antonio. TED stands for “technology, entertainment, design.” The video archives from past TED conference speakers is one of my favorite stops on my routine promenades about the WWW. TEDx represents a sort of break-out for the TED Conference into other cities and regions. 2010 will be the first time TEDx has expanded into San Antonio. About time, I’m thinking.

I’ve been working on a short list of folks who I think should be invited to speak. My short list currently stands at 33 people. I need to prune it down a bit. Even though the great San Antonio genius Tom Slick (inventor, philanthropist, cryptozoologist extraordinaire) was lifted up to that higher, sublime plane 47 years ago, we still have a parcel and a half of geniuses here in this city. I’d love to bring attention to some of these wonderful folks.

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The weather has been great. So far. It can’t last, I know that. I just have to appreciate it while I can. I took the Mission Trail on my bike late this afternoon. A northern wind was at my back, and I was flying all the way out to Mission Espada. There’s this nice hill that dips down under the 410 overpass. Only a dull-witted killjoy would not to want to pick up some serious fucking speed there. I was listening to the song “Horses” by Patti Smith. And that slow beatnik beginning shifted into that great driving 4/4 beat just as I crested the rise and dropped down that straight, smooth, and paved 100 yard incline. I was going maybe 35 when, at the bottom, I zipped past a guy cycling in the other direction.

“Baby mash potato, do the alligator, do the alligator….”

The hill going back up was just as long and just as steep, but I didn’t even bother to downshift until I was three quarters of the way up.

“Got to lose control and then you take control….”

I took the road that circled Mission Espada, and soon caught my breath. And then I headed to the low water crossing behind the mission

“Then he cries, then he screams, saying /
Life is full of pain, I’m cruisin’ through my brain /
And I fill my nose with snow and go Rimbaud /
Go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud….”

New York proto-punk might give a good rhythm to ride a bike to, but the lyrics don’t always fit the rural southern reach of Bexar County, Texas.

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Later, this evening, I headed out to the La Fiesta supermarket on S. Flores (keeping up my HEB boycott)–the cupboards and fridge were getting thin.

On my drive out, I decided to pull into the Blue Star parking lot. I had my camera with me. And I realized I also had a tripod tucked behind the seats of my pickup.

There’s this scene I’ve been wanting to shoot for a couple of years. On a large tree across the river from the Guenther House dozens of white egrets roosts over-night. The best place to shoot would be in the parking lot of the old Pioneer Flour Mills, but they lock that area up tight. So I set my tripod up on the S. Alamo Street bridge over the San Antonio river. The best shot was at about eight seconds with the iris open all the way. The bitch was the focus. The zoom lens that comes with the Panasonic Lumix GL1 embraces so many automatic settings that it lacks a true focus ring–you can turn that sucker forever. This is one of the reasons I want to get an adapter so I can add REAL lenses. I guessed on some focusing. Here’s a half-assed shot. It’s of the tree and the river (here I count about 30 egrets, and, in the words of Dr. Pamela Gay, “that’s just cool!”).

This other image is of the old mill tower.

I got back in my truck and continued to the store. But, as so usually happens, there was a train blocking my way. The track is next to Joe Lopez’s Gallista Gallery (which is where I hope everyone will be on the 14th for “Second Saturday”). I may one day have a photography show of all the images I’ve shot of trains blocking my movements here in San Antonio. Here’s a couple from tonight.

At La Fiesta the avocados were cheap enough, but each was harder than a frozen caramel. It had been a bad year for produce. Nevertheless, I picked up a medium-sized papaya, and hoped for the best.

Outside, I had to take a shot of this great landmark. A beautiful barbershop. Every time I’d been in this neighborhood before with a camera, there’d been some ugly pickup truck in front of the building. Not tonight. But there was some rummy who’d already tapped my for change camped out in the La Fiesta parking lot. I didn’t want him hovering and pestering, so I just took a single long exposure shot from the door of my truck, balancing the camera on my thigh.

I know I had the focus down, but what appears to be a bad focus is that I clearly I wasn’t able to keep my leg completely still for the quarter second exposure. Someday I’ll do a nice and groovy comprehensive study in long exposure night photography off all my favorite scenes and areas along S. Flores between S. Alamo and Military Drive. It’s a photogenic neighborhood with great restaurants, churches, schools, botanicas, and car repair shops. If something’s fucked up in your life–¡que cosa!–head on down to South Flores, and if you’re patient and discerning, you’ll find some sort of fix. Yeah, it might be an aerosol can labeled Dinero y Amor, or perhaps the best capirotada (Mexican bread pudding) you’ve ever imagined.

The Doc Doctor–Argentinian or Kryptonian…or Both?

I’m volunteering at a three day documentary workshop at URBAN-15. It’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 Matadors 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 Matadors 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 loser 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 loser 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.