Six years ago I was asked to create a short film to accompany a short fiction piece of mine called Life Vest. I had never done anything of the digital kind, except back in film school on old analog slicing equipment. My ideas did not lack. My technical ability severely lacked. Awful, horrible cringe worthy. What I saw in my head was not translated onto the moving substrates. This was my first in digital.
The technical aspects of Life Vest make me chuckle. O, I tried with my rudimentary equipment and microphone sitting in an open house with children's toys at my feet. BUT, I put it out there. Not being the best. It's so modern of me to be clunky. The imagery, however, I loved. I took all of the images with my son's childhood plastic microscope from a bee found on my balcony. (The neighbor had been poisoning the bee population. I lived in California: where flowers bloom! And you're killing the bees? Don't get me started on some idiotic human attempts to coexist with nature. My thriving concern continues, even into a different space and state. See the article here.)
While working in the studio today on stories--starts of a graphic artist essay, a nonfiction article--I came across this beautiful piece of work (see below). A small, perfect masterpiece. This inspires me to stretch myself creatively. Six years ago I was on fire. Then my fire dulled. Attention went to other things. And I vow to get back to that deepest impulse of expression and connection through artful moments that shed light on the human condition.
I read somewhere the other day this small piece of advice: Make the next year better than the last.
Hammock's "Mono No More."