Q&A with the
Filmmaker
Q: How did you get started making these films?
A: The technology necessitated it. I have been an avid photographer since
the age of 10. I bought my first digital still camera (Kodak DC210) on
December
7, 1997. When I broke it on
October 30, 2002, I
began looking for a replacement still camera. After trying numerous
models, I settled for a Canon S200. I used it exclusively for still photography,
but then at a party on February
7, 2003, I gave the video function a try and fell in love with it. Since
that time, I've shot about 6,000 pretty good short films and more than 30,000
common ones. But again, it was the chance possession of the filmmaking
technology which led to the films; I hadn't been actively wanting
to make short movies. I thank the Japanese.
Q: Why are the clips so short?
A: That's what the technology allows. The 30-second maximum limit is imposed
by the Canon S200 camera, which was state of the art in its time. Today's
cameras can capture much more video, but I think the 30-second limit is useful.
Brevity is the soul of wit. I also limit myself by using a relatively small
memory card (128M) because data expands to fill available space. My backlog
is already so overwhelming that I have put myself on a moviemaking diet.
(But like most diets, it's not working.)
Q: What's with the blank spaces between
clips?
A: Again, this was purely a function of the then available technology. I
was using Microsoft Windows Media Player v.7 to review and present my clips.
For whatever reason, it inserts a 1.2 second gap between clips. I came to
like this brief pause after each brief clip. It gives the work some room
to breathe and gives the viewer a moment to digest what's been seen. It kind
of resets the brain, too. I know the gap is 1.2 seconds long because I re-create
it when I assemble the clips for broadcast and DVD. In an average episode,
there are three cumulative minutes of silent black screen. The industry calls
that "dead air," but I like to think of it as commercials for the enjoyment
of our quiet inner spaces.
Q: Why do you do it?
A: Yet again... the technology. It has insinuated itself into my daily
routine. Every morning I make sure the camera is in my pocket, battery charged,
available memory. I don't go looking for movies (although occasionally I
do set one up); I shoot reflexively. On those rare occasions when I forget
the camera, I'll see something, reach for my pocket, and feel a pang of
disappointment when it's absent. What started as a novelty became a habit
I can't quit. Of course, I also enjoy the result, both from aesthetic and
historical perspectives. On one level, the films are purely formal arrangements
of shape, color, motion, and sound. On an equally important level, the films
chronicle the passage of time. Milan Kundera wrote, "The struggle of humanity
against power is the struggle of memory against forgetting." Remembering
specifics is vital. The mundane and trivial now will become valuable down
the line. After all the oil's gone and the last tree has been harvested and
all the birds die, someone will be able to reach for these films to remind
themselves of how these things looked and sounded. (That is, if they still
have electricity and the technology to play them--doubtful.)
Q: Where is this going?
A: I'd like to see these films archived at the Smithsonian. Not because they're
so great (OK, maybe partly because they're so great), but because they represent
our imagery-glutted culture. Everyone with a digital camera or souped-up
cell phone is now shooting movies. The only thing I do different from most
people is meticulously file, notate, and archive the films.
Q: Is there anyone you want to shout out?
A: Special thanks are due
James Culbertson
for technical asistance,
Artist Trust for
project funding, and SCAN
TV for providing a crucial public service.
Jesse Paul Miller
was an early supporter and inspiration to take the films public. I'd also
like to thank
Sarah, Linda,
Adria, Craig, Connie, Bruce, Miso, my colleagues at the
RE Store, and all my
other friends and "willing" subjects who have graciously learned to "act
natural" even when I'm sticking a camera in their faces.
Reprinted with permission
from The Author's Imagination. |
