WARNING: SPOILER.
Any one of these shots would have let me die happy if I had made them:
The scene at the farmhouse table, seemingly lit by the bright sun on the table.
The back of the screen, just catching fire from the bottom.
The giant face of jewish vengeance, projected on smoke.
That first one has a technique I use a lot, either with available light or my own lights. Motivated soft glows from visible surfaces. There's a wonderful bit of it in the projection booth scene with "Mimieux" and Zoller. The arc light that leaks out of the projector reflects off her red dress and gives a red glow. When I'm shooting with motivated bright stage lighting (lots of hip hop videos lately), I let it bounce off skin or cloth onto faces. It's a lifesaver for beautiful dark skin. Likewise, in a recent shoot lit by motorcycles, the headlights bounced off clothes and onto faces.
9/17/09
A morning routine, September 2, 2009
4:40 am.
Up.
Sweater, cool indoors, so can’t just stay in drafty pajamas.
Corduroy pants, warm socks, turtleneck, yellow sweater for happiness.
To Spike and Samba, “No, not yet.”
Loud stretching.
Measured cup of water on to boil, clickclickclickwhooshclickclick.
Dry the cup so all the cereal will come out of it.
Big knife-halve an apple.
Small knife-sculpt out the core.
Big knife-slice two ways. Eat a little.
Peel banana. One strip peeled then fold back the bottom so the whole peel goes. A few strings. Proof that there is no god.
Drape strings onto inside of garbage bin, sticking there instead of on fingers.
Big knife-split the banana. Slice, andante. Left forefingers clean the blade.
Eat a piece.
Cinnamon and vanilla in the water.
Shake the raisin jar to loosen a handful. Into the water. Then a few more.
Boiling.
1/3 cup of cereal shaken into the water and stirred.
Big knife and left hand-scoop fruit into water.
Cover. Almost done.
Tea kettle filled from the tap. Count seven, that’s a cup. Friction fit lid.
Clickclickclickclickwhooshclickclick.
Stir the fruit, stuck together with cereal.
Big cup, gold basket goes in. Northwest Breakfast tea, a rounded teaspoon, but not the most you can fit on the spoon.
“No, not yet.” Petting. “Let’s have some scratching.” Arching up to be scratched.
Choose the yogurt container by heft. Check the yogurt. What’s that? Look close. Okay, I guess, it’s still food.
Fifteen crunches on the kitchen floor. Thirty pushups to a verse and chorus of ‘Simple Gifts.’
Noisy stretching, every important joint sounding.
Kettle almost boiling. Bubbles forming on the bottom, but collapsing with a little sound as they reach the colder water above.
The little sound stops.
Pour it into the gold basket, tea floating up. Twirl basket and lift it a little to wet everything.
Cereal pan on folded towel to protect great-granddad’s handmade table.
Big spoon. Big dollops of yogurt.
“No, not yet.”
Read. Eat. Something in the stomach before the tea.
Pull the gold basket, bang it five times in the garbage, like the beginning of The Who song.
Sip. Not yet.
“No, not yet.”
Read, eat, scratch, sip.
8/23/09
Hustle Hard, my latest music video
A lifestyle video for Sean Nitty and Big Cash.
There's some plot, a big drug deal shot at my house and a sex trap set in the bedroom of photographer Emily 'Northside' Grimes. I like the night scene lit by motorcycles. Big Cash is particularly scary when he comes around the corner to chase you off his territory.
The drug deal in our kitchen was lit by late sunlight bouncing off the cherry wood table. Bigg Nastee and Bo Deal, who had just opened for Gucci Mane the night before, were particularly convincing.
Sean was nice to work with. He's so low key but with very evolved taste.
7/22/09
I've been appropriated by Leigh Ledare!
It's a wonderful story, but the short version is that Leigh Ledare (google him), Nan Goldin protege, took some scandalous pix of his 50 something mom, including with her 22 year old boy friend, and some nudes, some kind of, oh, challenging.
I had also shot some racy video of her, in a kind of costume romance that would be rated soft-R, I think. She was the duchess and there was a duke, two maids, and the 22 year old hunk as the chauffeur. Bawdy, but no actual sex, no giblets, but some rolling around, exposed curves, and literally ripped bodices.
I sent her a copy of the raw footage and she sent it to Leigh. He created a piece out of some of it and calls it "The Gift." He's showing it all over the world, I think. I haven't seen it yet. It's $4,000 a copy but I think he's going to Gift me. Thanks Leigh. Very exciting.
The Lake Shore Limited to Chappaqua
I'm headed off to see dearest friends unseen since the late 60's and 70's. The train ride will be great but I'm a little insecure about seeing these people. They're all 22 years old but carrying decades of success, while I'm kind of middle-aged and pretending I lost it all to Madoff and I'm starting over.
Okay, packing enough vegetable matter to feed half an Amfleet Coach, a guitar, and the travel journal (one should always have something solipsistic to read on the train.)
Okay, packing enough vegetable matter to feed half an Amfleet Coach, a guitar, and the travel journal (one should always have something solipsistic to read on the train.)
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