Becoming an Artist... step 1.

I've been hardly writing here, which is unfortunate because I do believe that the more I write the more creative I'll get. It takes time to be talented and skilled in this field and the more I write the more comfortable I'll field. And by comfortable I mean confident.

So this week I met Orit. She's an Israeli artist who concentrates mostly on video exhibitions. For her newest project she is working with girls that come from halfway houses. Orit's style is very dark and abstract... To be honest, I really like her style.

She asked me to collaborate with her on her latest video and I couldn't say no. After being in this business for a few yers now, its important to know when to say Yes, and when to say No. Unemployed me needs to work. I'm not exactly here to play, right?

Anyway I start working on the project now. Synching, logging, and editing. Let's get to work!

The Making of "Early"

I've been in the program for about a month now. It's been quite a journey so far.

Our first assignment was to create a 1-min Short film. We we're asked to write script which we would later produce, film and edit. I wrote a short script and handed it in. When we went around the room to talk about our projects, I realized that mine is very different from everyone else's. Mine was a story based on dialogue and humor. The other stories seem to be very deep and "Artsy." I starting second guessing my project, but decided to go forward with it anyway because I liked the reactions people gave when I told them the concept.

Sean and I sat down at his house and talked about how we were going to this. He took out a piece of paper and drew out the layout of Mike B's room. I showed him where the bed would be and the angles I was interested in taking. He began marking camera points, drawing lines, making code words and organizing a game plan in his head. Meanwhile I was building a schedule so that we know how long this could take us and be as efficient as possible. Obviously nothing went according to plan.

I arrived at 10am on Saturday morning to Alex's apartment with enough eggs, cheese, bread, and vegi's to feed everyone I invited and more. How could I expect this movie anywhere close to good, if I don't feed the people who are making it happen. The Truth is without their help there would be no movie. The joints of this industry are based on relationships between people...

Alex was the discovering husband, Sean was the guy in the closet, Zena was the girl, Eli was hiding under the bed, and I was in the bed. Sean and I alternated filming so that we could each act. I didn't get to see the footage until I got into the editing room the next day. I was a little scared of what I would find, but I knew that something would come out of this project.

And then after watching it all and pulling out my favorite parts, I put all the clips in a logical order which created this well told story that takes 1-minute to present. I also discovered that this movie is based on luck! How lucky am I to have a huge room to film in with a closet and a bed and light? How lucky am I to have a friend who has great lenses and an enormous amount of experience that is not only willing, but excited, to help with the project? How lucky am I to have friends who are actually GREAT actors?! I was shocked, but its true. Everyone did an amazing job and I could only make them breakfast and say Thank you.  

Although it was a bit tiring to make the film (4 hours), we each now have this 1-min video that we can show our friends and family and say "see, I'm not a complete failure! Look I took part of this great film!"

When we screened the project in class I got the approval by my teachers and fellow students and I even got a nice laugh at the end of the clip. It makes me so happy to have made something legitimate that I just want to jump on the wagon and make more.

http://vimeo.com/75997883   Password: early

Party Pooper

A friend graduated on Friday. As my story as a student in NYC begins, hers has come to an end. She studied for the past year at the NY Film Academy - a school with not the best reputation to be honest... BUT tonight her and her classmates present their final projects. Its an exhibit of their Photos. Each project is followed by a tag line which explains the meaning of their photos. To be honest not all the pictures were that great, but some could find their way in the hands of a collector, I'm sure!

To celebrate the end of their studies, I joined them at the Vig Bar with the rest of her class for some drinks and dancing. I got to meet a new side to all her friends - the drunken messy side. It was actually kinda nice to see everyone loosen up and let out one last Hoorah before they each went on their separate ways. I started to think of my graduation party. Who will be hanging out with? Will I be happy? And who will I have under my arms?

When I stepped outside to have a cigarette, I leaned on a car where the new graduates were all messing around. As they were fooling around, I was introduced to a short dark fella from Eritrea (I don't remember his name since I met so many people that night). I was introduced as a friend from Israel, which seemed to create an interest. This was the first time out of many times I'm sure that my background stood in someone's way...

He asked me in a polite manner, "Do you mind if I ask you a question?" "Not all," I reply.

Him: Would you consider yourself a progressive Israeli?
Me: What do you mean by progressive? I drive cars and watch TV if that's what you mean...
Him: No, no... I mean do you recognize the injustices of Israel?
Me: Oh! Ummm, well Israel has its faults and has made its mistakes and continues to do so. But I don't think thats what you mean.
Him: Well how do you feel about the actions that its taking against the Palestinian people? Do you think its fair that the Israeli guns should be used against the Palestinian stones?
Me: I don't believe that this is a physical war, I believe it is a media war... I quit mid sentence and notice that everyone around is paying attention to our conversation and that it seems to have put a damper in the celebration - I try to change the subject before it gets ugly. I also believe that the actions of a country and its leaders shouldn't be represented by a single, random, individual like my self. The one belief I am interested in sharing with you is that Politics ruins Parties. Cheers!

The conversation moves elsewhere and I overhear him saying to a friend of his about the anti-Israel conversation we just shared. So I interrupted and said Anti-Israel? I think you mean Progressive! (big smile!)

I'm a bit of a stickler for linguistic and word choices. I really don't mind having a conversation with someone that wants to know something about my experiences in Israel. But I'm not interested in trying to change someone's opinion about it, or have them try to change mine. Its not healthy to speak with people who confuse words like progressive and anti-Israel. Thats like saying that people who aren't Pro-Life are Pro-Death. These redefinition of words are one of the most dangerous weapons used in the World today and the better we get at understanding their power, the more dangerous they become.

This was my first experience as an Israeli representative in the social night life of NYC and although I hope it will be the last, I know it won't. I didn't come here to speak politics with anyone, I came here to learn how to make movies. Why doesn't that make sense to people?

Not for easy fainters - Part of life in NYC (I suppose)

I have gotten used to stepping in dog shit in Israel. Where I'm from its a natural part of life. No matter how hard you fight it, its always going to be there. Thanks to it, i have crafted a natural reflex that allows my foot to stop fast as soon as it touches a non solid surface. I'll still have dog shit on my shoe, but I would manage to stop the torture before it was too late.

NYC doesn't have a lot of dog shit. But every place has its dropping... I was walking towards 365 Willoughby in Brooklyn today. I saw the apartment door and thought this might work... Maybe the 2 block walk to the subway won't be so bad... The neighborhood is nice and I'm sure I cou-Activate reflex! Continue pacing forward and look back to see what it was that triggered my half step. A dead rat lied on the floor with a head that is now just a bit flatter... I could hear the cracking of his skull in my head now. That's all I could hear. I still hear it now. When the agent came to show me the apartment, I tried my best not to gag... 

By far the worst part of week. But i guess that's life in NYC. Lots of hot dogs, subways, and rat skulls.

WAKE UP & PAY ME

The Subway doors wouldn't shut because there was a man who wouldn't let the doors close. He was having some sort of discussion with his friend. It seems like he was giving directions. I wasn't sure what was going on except for the fact that people were getting brutally upset with this guy. He was about 6ft2, had a cross around his neck and had a pretty deep voice for a 16 year old...

And so it begins. "Ladies and Gentleman, My name is Juan, I am 16 years old. You have already lived your live. I haven't even started mine. Please share a dollar with me so something can happen with my life. You have already lived your life. Give me a chance. Give me a chance. I am just asking for a dollar." Although this happens almost every time I get on the subway, this time was different. This kid gave off the impression that if someone doesn't give him money, he would attack someone... "You! Wake up! Why aren't you sharing?! You have lived your life! Haven't you?! Wake the FUCK up?!" An uncomfortable chill went through me but nothing could bring me away from the cool air coming out of the vent. Another ignored beggar on the NYC subway system.. "You Wake UP! I'm fucking alive! I need a chance! Please give me a chance! You have lived your miserable lives! Give me a chance to have one too!"

When we got to the next stop he walked across the whole train and walked right out the doors. I looked ahead where an older man wearing a tucked button down, holding a New Yorker with a briefcase by his foot and headphones in his ears, stood. He catches eyes with me and gives out a "what the fuck was that" chuckle. And just like that, i was accepted into the "normal looking" category of the New York City backdrop. 

Never work with a man who eats Tahini like Ketchup! Or Ketchup like Tahini?

I'm early to the Open House on Grand st in the Lower East side of Manhattan, so i looked around for a little place to get a drink and to get updated on the CraigsList thread. CraigsList... The closest thing to a home these days. There is no one sitting in the Flower Cafe (Essex & Grand) when I walk in. I guess the place is supposed to be stuck in the 60's. There are green and yellow hippy flowers on the green walls, Staying alive is playing, and all of the sandwiches are titled with cleaver 60's 70's slang like "Trippy Tuna", "Light My Fire" and "The Psychedelic."

The late 40s manager walks up to me after having a long conversation on the phone with a man about wood floor panels. He tells me to wait a minute as he finishes up. I get the Wifi password and a Snapple and take a seat by the window. I always feel shitty about taking advantage of a places internet, so I always get a drink and volunteer my great looks infront of a window, so people know that good looking people sit here. You're welcome, Flower Cafe.

As I'm waiting for the minutes to pass, the manager tells his hispanic employees of his plans to change the way this place looks. He's going to clean out the floor - an 8-hour process. He explains that that panels will be taken out, sanded, vacuumed and covered in a shiny red gloss. The bell on the front door rings as a heavy man steps in. "Finally! You look like a guy who works with floors," says the manager. The man approves and apologies for his delinquency. The two begin to talk and the manager interrupts him and asks "What part of Israel are you from?" The man replies "Haifa." They both nod and look back at the floor. The man continues begins to measure the floor and makes an offer. The manager explains to him that there is another floor guy who adds a tint to the floor and if he does the same. The Man explains to him that he doesn't recommend that service since the glue that is used fades quickly and leaves a residue. If used, the nice red tint could fade to black. The manager correct him and tells him thats not how it works. After a few more professionally polite statements, they shake hands and the Man leaves. The manager leans on the counter and goes back to talking about the floor. "Never trust an Israeli," he teaches his employees. He says it quietly but loud enough for all the customers to hear... Me.

I moved to NYC to be hear things exacly like this. To be exposed to the World outside of the bubble I live in. To look at Israel from the outside or maybe even not to look at it at all. I just hope that by the end of this, I'll be trusted.

First Taste

As I walk into the SVA building for the first time, show my card to the guard and press 8 in the elevator for the Short Film program, I begin to wonder what the hell I'm doing here...

The elevator goes up slowly as I am filled with questions. What is this place? What am I doing here? Do I belong here? Is this worth the money? Will I gain anything? And the biggest question I had, which has been hovering over my hear for years, am I an Artist?

We had 3 classes so far that cleared up some of my anxieties. We had Screenwriting with our professor Michael, our Project class with our Chair Bob Giraldi, and Film Criticism with Amresh. Our first assignment was handed to us before we even started - a one-minute short film that will be made in three weeks. Not too complicated, but insanely vague. Everyone wants to have a good project, How do you make it happen? what makes something good?

As for our thesis film, we're given the option to either write out own screenplay or to use someone else's... I'm pretty sure I want to write me own. But the more I sit in this chair, the more difficult I think this will be...