I’m wary of compulsive optimism, the idea that you have to always “turn your frown upside down” and be positive. I think it’s a damaging way to move through the world.
It’s no surprise that the first chapter of Judith Weston’s book The Film Director’s Intuition, which I started reading recently, resonated with me. Weston goes against the grain of affirmations and compulsive positive thinking, and offers what I find to be a much more useful model for approaching creative projects: permission to fail.
“If we approach a project declaring , ‘I trust myself. I’m going to nail it. I’m going to do it perfectly.”–that’s not trust, that’s bravado. And bravado is a form of denial; it’s pretending we’re not afraid when, in fact, we are. Denial is a little lie to ourselves. And when we lie to ourselves, we shut down our creativity.
If, on the other hand, our mindset is, “I trust that whatever I do will be worth trying”–that is, worth risking–we give ourselves permission to fail. Permission to fail is exactly the same as permission to learn.“
I honored to share that I’ll be following in the footsteps of some amazing Philadelphia women I know and attending this year’s Flaherty Seminar as a Philadelphia Fellow, funded by the Philadelphia Foundation!
Flaherty Seminar is an annual gathering of over 160 filmmakers, academics and curators for a week long seminar watching and discussing films. Each year there is a different theme and curator. This year’s theme is “History, It’s What’s Happening” curated by Pablo De Ocampo. I’m excited for this theme as it’s directly connected to my exploration of a possible multi-media installation on the CIA coup of Mossadegh that has been brewing on my creative back burner for a while.
The only thing I miss about graduate school is getting to geek out on films in this focused kind of way –I’m looking forward to the opportunity to immerse myself like this for a bit.
The Norman film is still in process. But like any creative process, it’s kind of excruciating. Luckily I have an amazing and ever growing team of people helping with collecting visuals and animating. I kind of feel like I’m conducting a visual animation orchestra. Dah dah dah. (That’s the sound of an instrument).
Voice on the Line by Kelly Sears
I’ve been looking for inspiration from other animators using unique and lo-tech techniques and recently discovered Kelly Sears. Several of her pieces incorporate archival footage that is altered to have a sort of extra lush saturated feel against these colorful and textured backgrounds.
Paper Mountain Man by Kelly Sears
Other pieces are hand done collage that are colorfully layered to create images that are visually engaging without being overwhelming or chaotic. She some how manages to create a depth of field through her use of scale and layering in a way that makes me more conscious of how flat the images I’ve been producing are.
I suspect that some of her work was done on an optical printer, which gives me that slight twinge of “things-I-should-have-taken-more-advantage-of-while-paying-a-million-dollars-to-be-in-film-school.” (It wasn’t really a million, but either way it’s more than I’ll probably be able to pay back in my life time.)
I love learning about new artists whose work triggers a flurry of ideas for me. If you’ve got other suggestions please share!
This post is not about the World Cup. . . though I’ve been having a fun time watching games, catching up with friends, and having a legit reason to have a beer before 3pm.
And besides, I’m not really rooting for the UK anyway.
As I wrote a few weeks ago, I’ve been learning After Effects together with fellow artist bex, which by definition also means learning more Photoshop as well.
Yesterday we imported all our assets and did our first basic animation. I am so thrilled.
Here’s a very crude still from our sequence about Mossadegh’s attempt to nationalize Iran’s oil supply.
"Hallo? England? We're taking over the oil supply. . . .I mean, since it was ours to begin with anyway."
“I thought your film was about Norman Schwarzkopf though?” you ask.
“Indeed.” I say back.
“So, you’ll just have to wait and see. . . “
I haven’t done a Wednesday-Where’s-Your-Film update in a while.
When you just need some desperate housewives.
I went through one of those dark spells in the creative process where I lost my vision, almost gave up, all the while beating myself up for not meeting my self-imposed deadline to be done by June.
Then, last week I read through some old journals–a process which gives me the best insight on the crazy habit patterns of my mind–and read through this exact same moment in producing Cusps. Those of you who work on long-term creative projects know exactly what moment I’m talking about. Weeks of evenings where pledge to go exercise and work on your experimental film and instead stay at home in bed with a pint of ice cream and watch 5 episodes of Desperate Housewives.
But you have to trust that one day you’ll emerge. That rest is important. And every cliche that you can think of about needing to go through the dark to get to the light.
When you need some help.
In the spirit of my theme for 2010, asking for help, I did just that. And it all lined up kinda perfect. I’m now collaborating with bex*, who already in two sessions has come up with some brilliant animation ideas for the film and breathed new life into it. Stay tuned.
I finally finished hand-painting the frame by frame animation sequence I’ve been working on for almost 8 months.
This is a very crude first run with just a few of the frames on repeat. I’ve been playing with the scan quality, image duration and transitions to try to get the look I’m going for, which is to have the colors sort of swim and swirl. This is still too jumpy and rugged compared to what I’m imagining.
Any artist who has mixed money with their craft has had this experience: the grant decline letter.
2009 has been good to me in terms of grant funding so far. So I thought I’d be more crushed when I recieved the decline letter yesterday from the Leeway Foundation for their Lifetime Transformation Award–their largest grant.
But I wasn’t crushed. I didn’t get insecure about whether my art was good enough, because I felt honored that I had even made it to the final round.
And of course, the people I do know on that list are AMAZING artists. (Like, this film by Heidi Saman–you should see it if it comes to your town.)
Mostly, I just paniced and realized I needed a plan. I hadn’t realized how many things in my brain I was pushing aside with the line “I’ll just wait until I get the chunk of money.”
My soundbites for how to carry on after a grant decline letter:
- Always have a plan B. Do not sabatoge yourself into a mindset that your creative work is only possible with money, therefore no grant=no art. If you do, you are leaving it to the people who control the money in the art world to decide what gets made. And, well, we know where that will get us.
- Think social capital, not just financial capital. What are other ways you can get access to the resources you need? Example: last night I posted that I needed a 16mm projector. A few hours later I had been offered two working projectors that were abandoned from someone’s old workplace.
- Remember it’s about process, not product. A painter friend, B. Aufdenberg, said something to me years ago that stuck with me: “You don’t eat to shit. Your art is not about the product it produces.” Word.
Onward and backward
This week is all about archival research.
I’m preparing for a field trip in two weeks to the National Motion Picture Archives where I’m going to review old newsreels of Norman Schwartzkopf, Sr. in Iran in the 1950s as well as Jr. in the 1990s.
I’m also coordinating with the University of Florida library archives to get high resolution copies of news articles about my Schwarzkopf encounter on thier campus over ten years ago.