The Online

Brendan Lott, Oil on Canvas
What Are My Motives, Are They Selfless Enough,
Are They Righteous, Righteous Enough?

It is day two of the online of my documentary in what we estimate to be a 6-day painstakingly tedious process of color correction and tweaking of shots to a price tag of you-don't-even-want-to-know. Let's just say, had we not needed to go through this process in order to deliver our film back to the people who helped pay for it, I would be the owner of fairly new, fuel-efficient compact car.

So here we are, waiting to hear the results of who got into Sundance cuz we are pretty sure we didn't, filing our rejection letters as fast as we are sending out applications, and making everyone in the film look better than they actually did–or at least, better than how my camera captured them. I get to catch up on crossword puzzles and emails, while sitting in a dark room all day, wondering about what might happen next. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I am looking forward to attending a few festivals, like maybe those in Italy, France or Hawaii. You know, the kind that offer air travel, hotels, and happy hours. It's not the primary nor even close to the tertiary reason I got myself into this kind of mess (making films, that is), but I could use a little reward for all the energy spent right about now. I mean, it hasn't even played to an audience of more than 2 yet.

But back to reality. I suppose I should sign up for that loan deferment again. At least I made it a couple years this time. I've postponed looking for a new place to live til after the holidays, and I have a couple editing jobs in line through December. I keep thinking now would be the time to write that Great American Screenplay that's been cluttering up my desktop for a few years, but I can't seem to bear to open it to see where I left of.

All that to say, it's not a bad time for me. And if you know anything about me, you should know that I always sound more negative than I really feel. I generally like this time of year. I am not as stressed as I usually am. I don't have everything riding on the success of the film anymore. And the BF and I have been getting along, in our small, small space, despite the fact that we have both been working from home together. And for the record, while I was the one who whose brilliant idea was to rent the abysmally art school-y Fur, he was the one who paid for both of us to see The Mist. Haven't heard of it? Yeah, exactly.

The ice film done-ith!

Camille Seaman, Tabular Iceberg, East Greenland 2006

Well, almost-ith.

For the last seven weeks I have been about ice. Call me the Snow Queen, call me Snow White, just don't call me Ishmael. I came on to the ice film as an editor a year after shooting in Norway completed, and a week after someone else finished assembling the scenes. Not a bad way to start a documentary and a real treat–after having just edited a film that took two years in post and probably logged in at about 350 hours of tape–to be on a film where the estimate for completion topped out at a mere 6 weeks. Of course, turns out they underestimated, but it wasn't like, by a year or anything. No, that would just be the underestimate on my own film.

So two films are done-ith and I am out-of-a-job-ith. There are a couple weeks left tidying up things here and there. Maybe a week or two of paid work, but that's it. And while I do get to enter a whole new phase with the distribution of my own film–one that means the rejection letters will be piling up faster than I can burn them–the time has arrived for me to move on. Just not yet sure to what.

My Master Plan had been to be spending this year traveling from art residency to art residency, amidst a flurry of film festival travel, oh, but if it weren't for those pesky rejection letters! Plan B offered the option to start teaching again and putting that degree to some use, but here we are mid November with the academic year well into motion. Plan C, well, we are coming up with Plan C right as we speak. One hopes one doesn't have to go to Plan: No Way in Hell, and start editing for television again.

My boyfriend's advice is to just spend less money. But I've got a dog to feed and house. And PPO health care with exorbitant rates and even higher deductibles. And a student loan the size of a median house in Manhattan. And. And. And. Just when I thought I had the time to finally start going to therapy again.

So here's to something new. Something wild. Something blue.

Ice, Ice Baby

photo of ice guitar, lit on fire from the ice music documentary I am currently editing. Only the strings and the head and tuning pegs weren't ice. Click to enlarge.

And they said it couldn't be done.

Why Loaf Man is not a good screen name...

list via to-do list

...but Mario Plimp is.

As I sit here and write this, I am checking off my own list of notes from the first rough cut screening of the ice music documentary I am editing. Note to self: try to do notes before too much time elapses as aforementioned list usually scrawled in completely unintelligible writing.