Three Statements to Fend Off Artistic Paralysis

If you are fortunate, a time comes when you have to accept who you are and you stop trying to put a label on yourself that will be accepted by others.  I am an interdisciplinary artist that puts words on paper, photographs, paints with light and pixels and makes videos and films.  People say it’s impossible to be successful if you don’t concentrate on being good at that one thing.  It may be true.  I am also guilty of telling this to people and believing it.  But I’ve also accepted that success as defined by society may not be my truth and destiny.  My truth is that my success depends on continuing to have the privilege to make art on my terms.  If not successful, at least I am lucky.  And, although it unsettles me to admit it, happy from the joy I get from this freedom.  I hope my destiny is to make art until I die.

Addicted to Crazy?

A couple of months ago I had the crazy idea to gather my resources, go to Mexico and shoot a short film with children. I did it, I learned a lot and it turned out pretty well. (See the trailer below.)

Today, in one of my culture vulture emails, there was a feature on remote places. One of them was Rapa Nui, aka Easter Island. Images of a couple on that island immediately flooded my mind. I thought of Certified Copy and Before Sunrise. I googled.

Discovered in 1771 on Easter Sunday, (hence its name), Easter Island is a World Heritage Site, but also the most isolated place in all the planet, at a distance of 3,700 km (2300 miles or a 5 hour flight) from the nearest populated point, which is the Chilean main land.

I want to shoot my first feature there. All I need is airfare and accommodations for five people for 10 days. And a story of course. I haven’t directed my first feature because, despite having lots of ideas, nothing has struck me as something people would want to see. It’s different with features. You need more money and investors. And you must have a responsibility to the investors. Before you shoot one frame, you should have a distribution plan beyond hoping that you get into a major festivals. I didn’t want to do that kind of thinking. I didn’t think I was ready. Somehow, the images of Easter Island tell me I am.

After I finish the two shorts I’m working on now, all my energy will go into this crazy endeavor. It maybe be nuts, but it’s a goal I can see.

Production Journal, Prequel: Film is not dead.

I went out to shoot super 8 footage around my Los Angeles this weekend. First, I stopped to get a car wash, because frankly, it’s embarrassing when your car is crunchier than a granola bar. While I was shooting the workers at the car wash an angry Mexican man ran after me flinging his arms and shaking his head. “You can’t photography in car wash!” I gave him my best “the hell I can’t look” but he continued to yell at me.


“Why not?”
“No, you can’t!”
“Why the hell not?”
A louder “No you can’t!”

I switched to Spanish to appeal to our shared Mexican heritage. “But I’m an artist. This is for the museum. Museum. You know the museum? No one is going to see it. Don’t worry about La Migra."

He replied, in English, “No. No. No photography the car wash.”

I wanted to tell him that this was precisely the reason why I was making this film. To give him and his oppressed brethren a face and a voice of some sort. But I didn’t and I sat down in the waiting area. It didn’t take long before the parade of brown, sweaty and exhausted faces rubbing cars with dirty red rags flared up my itch to continue shooting. The hell with it. I can deal with getting yelled at again. So I started to shoot intermittently while the man that chastised me came and went. It was difficult to keep it on the down low because a toddler was fascinated with my camera and kept trying to grab it. His mother did nothing about it even after I told her I didn’t like kids. A few minutes later their car was ready and they left. I continued to shoot, trying to zoom in the faces. Then a girl and her father sat down next to me and at hearing the camera’s motor running the little girl stood up and planted herself in front of me totally invading my personal space. Her father asked me, “Film?”

Yes, FILM. FILM. And can you get your daughter away from me and my camera please? Thank you.

Note: A week ago I could have grinned and put up with these kids’ affronts. If I appear too direct is because it seems I caught some strange bug that doesn’t allow me to put up with any more bullshit. I have no idea how long it will last but so far it’s working for me.

He replied, “Film? Really? Film? No video? Film?”

“FILM!” Then I saw the worker’s arm go up and wave the rag. My car was ready. I gave him a tip and headed for MacArthur Park.

I’ve driven by MacArthur Park many times on my way home from work and the closest I ever get on foot is when going to Langer’s Deli for the Number 19, which is not often. Thinking about a perfect pastrami sandwich, I've seen a multitude of tired, poor people come and go from one end of the street to the other. I saw but I didn’t really see.

I parked, loaded the camera and got out of the car. I looked around and then photographed a continuous 360 degree shot. Then I heard a voice ask, “Film?” I lowered my camera and saw a man whiz by me, still asking, “Film?”

Yes, film!

I felt intimidated and completely out of my element. Was I there to be exploitative for the sake of my art? Recently I was called, among other expletives, a “bitch snob” by the man I loved and I’m feeling wounded, insecure and vulnerable. These emotions can destroy a filmmaker’s courage. I tried to zoom in the people’s faces, first with my eyes. I had to be sure of myself before I could intrude with my camera. What right did I have? This film wasn’t really about them. It was about me. A self-portrait in a particular place and time. I was there to see with my lens, not my eyes, and to try to make sense of my life. I had lied to the angry man at the car wash. The oppressed my ass.

“The message is not in the code. The code is the message,” I thought.

I walked around, shooting, zooming, changing the frame rate, dodging angry homeless, ignoring men’s hissing advances, hoping the birds wouldn’t shit on my head, feeling sorry for those people, for me, for everyone. We’re all thrown in together in this cruel city, but we couldn’t be more far apart.

Still, even though I feel alone with my minced heart, I’m still so lucky for so many reasons. I’ve been alone and then I wasn’t and now I’m alone again. But being alone again is different now. Something has changed. Before, reality seemed inaccessible to me. Something was denying me the true perception of reality. This was it. My fear of the future demanded that I change the images of the past and present.

Then, another guy walked by and asked, “film?”

Yes, film.

Can we ban the word “pretentious” from the dictionary?

My friend John Luke Retard e-mailed me and a mutual Critic friend the Toronto Film Festival best of the decade list. John Luke confessed he had fallen asleep during Syndromes and a Century and the Critic sent a brief reply dismissing the list as pretentious. I expect that kind of shallow reaction from an intimidated and insecure mainstream moviegoer, but coming from a critic it really bothered me. Especially after he had already said the same thing about The Hollywood Reporter’s list, pointing out that, even though he had not seen The White Ribbon, any list with that much Michael Haneke had to be pretentious. I don’t know if it was his use of one of my most hated words, his disdain for one of my favorite directors or the chile relleno I had for lunch, but my gut started to burn. I took a Zantac, meditated for a bit and proceeded to grill him on his definition of “pretentious.” He sent back this lovely definition: “long, slow films that most audiences will not care about or enjoy.” I popped a Paxil.

“Great artists are people who find the way to be themselves in their art. Any sort of pretension induces mediocrity in art and life alike.”—Margot Fonteyn

I abhor the word “pretentious” because it’s thrown around willy-nilly, as if it’s supposed to be a grandiose and meaningful statement in of itself. It’s quite the opposite. I have used the word before in a film review. But to me, pretentiousness is the antithesis of honesty; it lies within the context of the artist’s intent. The Critic was using it to judge the TIFF list-maker’s intent, as if his/her choices had no relevance because it was unlikely they would appeal to a wide audience. As a member of a smaller audience that seeks out more original and artistic films, I am offended that someone would suggest that what I want to see doesn’t matter. It was as if the Critic was saying, “your hunger for these obscure arthouse films is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. If you refuse to be part of the herd, then risk being called a pretentious twit."

I started to review movies out of a need to, not just write, but to promote worthy films outside the mainstream radar. Voltaire said that “no statue has ever been erected for a critic.” While it’s true, the profession doesn’t have to be without merit. It is certainly a noble pursuit to support and promote worthwhile efforts outside the mainstream. I wrote the Critic, that where he saw pretentiousness and the list-maker’s selfish self-aggrandizing, I perceived advocacy. As a filmmaker, I hope one day my work will be championed by a critic. Anyone, actually.

I am sure The Dark Knight and Up will be on many lists, but really, do they need it? Christopher Nolan and Pixar are doing all right. Better than all right. The same can’t be said for dozens of brilliant filmmakers that cannot get financing off the ground and distribution for their films. They’re calling it the Indie Bloodbath.

I thank and applaud those who bring attention to lesser known movies. Making discoveries would be difficult without those generous, caring souls. Someone is going to read the TIFF list and discover a filmmaker they have never heard of before and maybe love her movie. (I’ve added Distant, Platform and Colossal Youth to my bulging Netflix queue.)The hope is always that someone, somewhere, will notice your work and give it some attention so that you can find your audience.

I am working my way through the decade’s movies trying to figure out what I think are the best. I can tell you right now that ranking my picks will be downright impossible. I don’t watch that many Hollywood movies because it’s a waste of my time. However, I hope you don’t see me and/or my list as pretentious. I don’t have an agenda. I like what I like and I champion what I think should be championed. It’s as simple as that. Stay tuned.