(Wednesday.)

I woke up feeling uninspired. Even after a huge mug of cappuccino, hecho a mono, and a tasty bowl of mote pillo, I still wasn’t up to much.

I did, however, call up my dear friend Enrique Madrid in Redford, Texas. I was hoping to be able to see him at a Big Bend conference coming up in San Marcos at the end of the month. He had been invited as a speaker. But because of recent health issues as well as a lack of funds to make the trip, he had to opt out. He sounded in good spirits. But it’s hard to tell over a phone. I didn’t get a chance to speak with Ruby, his wife. But I told him to expect me to come down for a visit in the beginning of April. I miss my friends down there. I miss the desert, too.

He wryly suggested that there was a new sport in Redford. “Oh, and what might that be?” I asked, playing the straight man. “Drone streaking,” he said. “Oh?” “Yes, it’s when you take off all your clothes and run along the dirt road atop the river levy. The Border Patrol sensors are activated and they send out the drones to video-tape the activity.” Yes, I remember now. Occupied southern Presidio County, where the only crimes seem to be committed by corrupt or ill-trained American men in uniform.

Enrique also said that he’d been recently interviewed by Texas Monthly for their Texas Food issue. He gave the reporter his famous tortilla-making lesson. Enrique has a mathematical formula for creating the perfectly round tortilla. I have it around somewhere, but it’d take awhile to find it. It is, as he is found of explaining, a formula analogous to the expansion of the universe following that early period of hyper-inflation. Enrique’s tortilla lessons are wonderful. I keep planing to make a short film. I’m not certain that the guy from Texas Monthly understands the charm and audacity of Enrique’s world view. But I understand completely. Enrique Madrid is one of my three mentors / gurus, all which, for some reason, are multidisciplinary intellectuals (mostly self-taught) who also all happen to be Chicano activists.

Maybe that’s what I’ll come back with. A video tutorial of how to make the perfectly round flour tortilla, using a mathematical formula which is shockingly simple, when you realize that the formula can also be used to recreate the universe if, you know, we fuck this one up.

San Marcos don’t know what it’s missing.

@@@@@

Later in the afternoon, when the high octane caffeine was wearing thin, I decided that I needed to address the issue of a few up-coming projects. I might be working with Slab Cinema again for Alamo Heights Night. If so, it will be a live broadcast inter-active presentation. There are also two performances where I will be working with Seme Jatib. My hope is that we will be able to add a live video manipulation / projection component to her dance performances.

I priced out a few AV carts and tables. I decided on a particular portable DJ table. It is more than stable enough to support my laptops, switchers, faders, external drives, mix-board, and even a monitor. The price was right. And even though the adjustable legs can only raise it up to 40 inches, I can probably get two slabs of four inch thick styrofoam to lift the equipment to what I have become accustomed to, this four foot-high standing desk which I’m using right now.

I also placed an order with monoprice.com, a great place to buy cheap audio and video cables. I think I have ordered all the cables I need to do VJ work, as well as improve my home video and audio editing suite.

@@@@@

Yesterday there had been some emails floating around. Someone was trying to find a place in San Antonio where a representative of PGA (the Producers Guild of America) could talk to San Antonio filmmakers.

When the dust settled, it was the Guadalupe Theater, 6pm, Wednesday night.

I was the first person there. The parking lot was empty. I thought I’d find out how to adjust my dashboard clock for the daylight savings time switchover. But before I could do that, Dago Patlan rolled up. He was one of the people who arrange this event. We went inside.

Manuel Solis, the head of the media programs at the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center, greeted us. He was carrying a couple bags of ice through the lobby. The ice was for the keg of beer. And then I looked up and there was Vicente Williams, the representative of the PGA. He was carrying a stack of pizza boxes. The PGA paid for the pizza and the beer. Things were looking good.

Before the activities began I found myself talking with Manuel. I assume he knows who won the prizes for the Neighborhood Film Project, but he wasn’t saying nothing. He did, however, express delight in the performances in my submitted short film, “A Bourbon Would Be Nice.” He said that not only will it screen Saturday night (March 26), but also Sunday afternoon. The Cinema in the Barrio series at the Guadalupe will be a showdown between the Southside and the Westside, two regions with fierce pride and a long history of rivalry. Puro San Anto! And I’m representing the Southside. True, I’ve only been in the outer edge of the San Antonio Southside for a mere eight years or so, but my star, Lisa Suarez, is a Southside girl going all the way back.

I wandered inside and talked with the slowly growing crowd. Twenty-five San Antonio film people showed up. A good number for short notice. I knew everyone except four (and one of those, a journalist interested in making films, I later friended on FaceBook — we’re meeting soon for coffee). Vicente Williams gave us a fairly comprehensive explanation on what the PGA is, does, and how, if we can get in, it can help not only the fledgling members, but all filmmakers in a region with a sizable membership. Vicente is on the PGA Diversity Committee, and he gave us some insight into what that program offers. He mentioned more than on one occasional that he grew up in San Antonio, and because he returns often to visit family, more meetings and info sessions can be arranged in the future. In fact, Dago, who teaches filmmaking to high school kids at the Harlandale ISD’s Film School of San Antonio, has begun developing a program, via Vincente, with the PGA. There are opportunities everywhere. Every now and then you just need to stop, take a breath, and look around.

Here’s Vicente.

And some people I know who showed up:

@@@@@

(Thursday.)

Actually, it’s Friday, as I noticed that it just turned midnight.

I’ve been procrastinating on what should be a small video project. I shot the Windows Show two weeks ago. (This is an occasional free show that Jump-Start stages in the window of their theater every couple of mouths or so during First Friday.) I used my 7D. There were two performances of the 18 minute show. This allowed me to shoot each performance from a different angle. The idea was to edit like a two camera shoot. I’ve done this before. It’s great as a theory, but in practice it can often bite you on the ass.

The footage looks great. And the finished product will be fine. But these sorts of things always take longer than expected. It’s like when I do rare book appraisals. I always quote an estimate based on how many hours it would take me to do the gig … if I was my idealized version of myself. Sorry to say, I’m not that guy. But I keep hoping. And I always honor my quotes. Same with video work.

Anyway, I’ve basically finished it. A quick tinker in the morning. Burn to disk. Deliver. Move on to what’s next…. What’s next? Oh, yeah. An internet commercial next week which should be a blast, because I’m working with friends.

@@@@@

I took a low-impact bike ride this afternoon from Mission San Jose to Mission Espada and back, with several protracted dead end detours around where the work crews are taking their sweet time between Espada Dam and Mission San Juan.

On a return from one of these dead ends, I slowed down as another cyclist approahced. He made eye contact and we both stopped. “Hey, dude. You have a cigarette?” I shurgged stoically and gave him a sigh, as men do, and said I didn’t. I leaned forward and psuhed on. But, really, what the fuck? Do I look that awful? I should have locked eyes with him. “Nope. Furthermore, I do not have an apple pie, a tallboy of Lone Star, nor a gram of heroine stored up rectum in a fingerstall.”

It was a lovely day. The heavy wind coming from Matamoros helped to make the ride back effortless and exciting. I think winter is finally vanquished. And don’t think I’m not rejoicing.

Some years back I was walking around downtown San Antonio with one of the founders of a well-known local arts nonprofit group who can often be seen staging community-driven performances in the public spaces around town. As we were crossing Houston street she looked up with a smile and said, “We own this town.” It seemed rather an audacious statement to blurt out. At the time I assumed she meant that she and her organization are popular and highly-visible. Perhaps it isn’t such an peculiar thing to say of an organization which can be found in almost all parades and important events. And over the years I’ve spent in this strange and wonderful city I, too, have found myself becoming something of a public person. I have marched and paraded in the streets for both political and celebratory purposes on at least a dozen occasions. I have made my way into the local corridors of power (not too impressive in this sleepy little city), powwowed with the media for many diverse causes, and I have worked on committees and boards to bring art and expression into the streets. So now, when I think of the declarative pronouncement, “We own this town,” I see a much richer interpretation. Sure, there’s a bit of braggadocio, with the “we” becoming the “royal we.” But more importantly is the notion that the people, the entire population of San Antonio, owns this town. We politic in the streets, we honor our champions and our dead in the streets, we party in the streets. So, if you feel comfortable saying “we own this town,” I assume you are asserting that you are actively engaged in keeping San Antonio centered around the spirit of community.

And this brings us to Luminaria. There are champions and there are detractors. Me? I’m a little of both. This lavish one night annual art event brings in huge crowds to downtown San Antonio, makes shitloads of money for included vendors, and does a decent job of bringing attention to the arts. Last Saturday night brought us the fourth year of Luminaria. I’ve been involved since the beginning. The first year I volunteered. And for years two, three, and four I have sat on the steering committee as one of the artistic chairs. All four years I have contributed as an artist.

What I’ve noticed over the years is a tendency to release giddy rhetoric abut the importance of art and creatively. The artists are asked to dream big. But, for budgetary concerns, the funds available to help these artists bring these dreams into the real world begin to diminish as the logistical needs of running such a large production become more apparent. Renting stages, hiring security, closing streets, purchasing liability insurance, securing ASCAP and BMI event rights, marketing, lighting, audio equipment, chingos of projectors, and on and on.

There is that horrible realization that to be able to do a good job of presenting the art, the lion’s share of the budget goes, not to the art (ostensibly the reason people are coming), but to the infrastructure, the context in which the art will be inserted. I’m wondering if in the future this might be remedied by treating the artists as vendors or contractors, with their own legitimate needs to bringing in sub-contractors to help with the installations and equipment rental.

I could go on all night blathering on about what I think Luminaria should be. It’s a silly game which hundreds of people are doing this week.

But I think there is one thing of which Luminaria should never lose sight. The artists are the draw. Keep them front and center in all decisions.

One other important matter is the issue of diversity. What I have learned of San Antonio history has revealed a serious struggle over the past few decades where individuals and institutions have pushed for rights and inclusion of all people no matter what their gender, ethnicity, or sexual orientation might be. I do know that this was an issue for the first three years of Luminaria — by issue I mean that the committee members were all made to understand that the line-up of artists should represent the diverse face of San Antonio. I’m not so sure we succeeded this year. I do know that Victor and I — co-chairs of the Media Arts committee — kept diversity in the forefronts of our minds during the entire process. But the only reason we did this was because we have worked for community arts organizations in the past, and this sort of sensitivity is clearly etched in our minds.

(As an aside, I wonder if this was the reason that, during the opening ceremony, board member John Phillip Santos made something of a grand exit while the mayor was still speaking. I have a hard time thinking he was just looking for the water fountain.)

@@@@@

Fuck the behind the scenes stuff. What did the punters see?

They saw something magical and extraordinary.

This year Luminaria filled almost all of HemisFair Park. There might have been 250,000 people. That’s what we were expecting. Personally I think it must have been less. The crush of humanity was heavy, but not intesne.

I was too busy trouble shooting various stages and artists to really explore. But what little I did see was so cool.

Of the curitorial zones, I was most cognizant of Ray and Cindy Palmer’s zone. It was between two areas I was shuttling back and forth between: the dance stage in Plaza de Mexico and the Pumphouse Lounge.

Ray and Cindy brought in some great artists. And two of my friends were right there in the Palmer’s zone. Gisha Zabala had a beautiful three channel video projection in one of the fountains. And Deborah Keller-Rihn had a breath-taking installation of illuminated floating altars in a little cement pond near Gisha’s piece.

I had little opportunity to take pictures. I did show up for the piece which ST Shimi and I collaborated on. “City Hoop.” I made a film. Shimi danced to it. It was pretty fucking awesome. Here are a couple of photos:

I also got an opportunity to see the dance piece created by my friend Seme Jatib. Amazing!

Okay. Here’s my Luminaria film, City Hoop, featuring ST Shimi. And because I still can’t figure out how to embed video on the blogs for this site, I’ll do the next best thing. Add a link:

vimeo.com/21004530

I’ve been laying low these last few post-Luminaria days. The whole thing left me physically tapped and mentally drained. And like the shutting down of any other sizable production, I’m sadden with the realization that many of the people I had been working with in such an intense manner I will not be seeing much in the future. A lot of the core players don’t move in my humble circles. The post production depression is a common affliction for those who work on collaborative time-based projects. I did make it out Monday to have a late breakfast with Deborah. Afterwards we took the thirteen inflated inner tubes out of the bed of my pickup truck. They were from her Luminaria installation. We were in the parking lot of Blue Star, each sitting on an inner tube and holding the stopper pin with a key. They deflate very slowly. After we’d done two apiece we decided to go ahead and take them all up to her studio. She could deflate them later, at her leisure. I suggested that she fob off this chore on the deadbeats who hang out in her studio while she’s trying to work — at the least, they can make themselves useful.

Deborah was also feeling that numb sense of bathos. She keeps saying how her piece would have been better had she done this or that. I keep reminding her that it was incredibly beautiful. She worked long and hard on it, and it paid off. Here’s a photo of her floating altars by Ramin Samandari:

There are twelve portraits (photos and paintings — all by San Antonio artists). The portraits are of leaders  in the creative communities who have passed away in recent years. As moving as the piece was (aesthetically and conceptually) I have to admit I laughed aloud when Deborah told me that during the night of Luminaria a drunk woman on her cell phone tried to walk across the floating art and fell into the pool. The only casually was Deborah’s new iPhone, which got wet when she got into the pool to reset her art. And as anyone who has ever dealt with a water-damaged iPhone knows, there’s no recourse but to buy another.

@@@@@

I wasn’t able to spend much time at the Pumphouse Lounge, where some of the video was being screened. I was just too busy doing other things. Unfortunately, because of the high winds during the afternoon, Angela and Rick of Slab Cinema weren’t able to place their inflatable screen in our preferred area. There was no place to anchor the front of the screen, and the weights we borrowed from Magik Theatre just weren’t heavy enough. Also, it was too windy to blow up the inflatable furniture. Even if it wasn’t, I didn’t have anyone to help inflate them. Here’s a note to those of you on FaceBook. When someone posts a request for help on their page, don’t take that as an opportunity to crack wise or make pithy remarks. Find out how you can help, or shut the fuck up.

And while I’m bitching, this is for the passive aggressive tech guy at one of the stages who wanted to chew on me because there had been no plan on how to run audio from the DVD player beside the projector across the plaza, over to the the sound board beside the stage. While I was trying to figure out how to remedy the problem (instead of trying to find someone to blame), he finally let me know that he had taken it upon himself to drive to his house, on the other side of town, to get his own wireless equipment. I felt like explaining: “Dude, I assume you’re getting paid for this. Not me. And, yes, I for one am damn happy you took it upon yourself to save our asses, but, please, hold back the bile until you’re working for the Spurs or Cirque du Soleil, instead of a volunteer-driven arts event where the only people getting paid are the goddamn marketing firms, vendors, rental companies, and stage crew.”

Fuck.

But I was talking about the Pumphouse Lounge. Between screenings of short films, Aztec Gold was putting on an interactive show they called the Green Screen Bonanza, where people could walk in front of a green screen. A video camera would play back their images live, embedded into scens from one of several popular movies. I was curious how well this would work. And though I only had a short time to check it out, I was impressed. The technology, though low, worked well, and the people seemed to be digging it. Pocha and Payan pulled it off!

While I don’t recall having eaten anything that night, I did find myself passing one of the volunteer booths. Kathy waved me over and asked if I wanted a beer. Those volunteers have it all worked out it seems. I thanker her and took a short break on the porch near the command center to quickly down a can of beer. Also, on the two times I dropped by to check in on Joseph Hladeka, who had a three-channel projection on the south wall of Magik Theatre, he was happy to share with me a bottle of some sort of flavored vodka. So it wasn’t a night of total privation.

Probably my favorite part of the night was stopping every so often, in chance encounters, to chat with friends, enemies, colleagues, and FaceBook “friends,” most who are also, in some manner, involved in the San Antonio art world.

You see, we’re an amorphous and dysfunctional cabal who own this town. And we know it.

I’m afraid I’m shirking some of my Luminaria steering committee duties because I’m so busy working on own Luminaria project. I’ll try and get back up to speed tomorrow.

I got a call from one of the folks at Creative Civilization. They’re the one’s doing the marketing for Luminaria. Anyway, it looks like I’m going to be on the morning TV show on the local Fox affiliate. There are two local stations each with a morning show. I’ve been on each one or two times over the years. Because I haven’t had a TV since the big digital change-over, I really have no idea about local television. I will say that each time I’ve visited the local TV studios, everyone has been wonderful, professional, and amazingly efficient.

Speaking of Luminaria, I decided to look at the website the other day. There’s a schedule of the evening’s events as well as a list of artists. The link to my web presence goes to my WordPress blog. I stopped using my website (www.eyewashpictures.com) because I hate those swine at 1&1 which were hosting my site. Also, I decided I no longer wanted to brand my work under the kooky, self-deprecating, and slightly clever banner of Eyewash Pictures. Anyway, I had not yet got my new website (www.rebosse.com) when I submitted my artists proposal, so I used my blog instead. Now I should point out that I’ve pretty much stopped posting on my blog. I’m currently blogging on my website. And so, when people click over to my blog from the Luminaria webpage, they are confronted by the bold title of my last blog posted to this site, with the piquant title of “Recovering from the Suburban Shit Hole.”

@@@@@

Tonight I headed out to shoot some miscellaneous urban video clips downtown. I wanted some generic nighttime scenes of lights and traffic to use for the one minute introduction to the video component of the Luminaria collaboration Shimi and I are putting together.

Here’s a quickie edit of what I shot tonight. I hope this Vimeo link will embed on this new website.

vimeo.com/20863527

Well, I can’t figure out how to embed. Do just click on the link.

I don’t do this enough. Make video montages.

For people working in video, this is an interesting period of history. The DSLR is king for low-budget movie makers. But the DSLR as a hot tool is already being pushed aside by a new breed of camcorder with a large chip, the ability to take cheap prime lenses, and topnotch audio acquisition. So, for the period of 2010 to 2012, we will see an influx of photographers playing around with digital cinematography, seeing as how their tools can take great HD video. I’ve already seen some great still shooters enter into the movie world. This is good. Many people I know who have trained to make movies with three chip prosumer camcorders are horrible shooters. They have no sense of composition, can’t light worth shit, and are absolutely clueless about optics 101. Enter the photographer who begins to play around with motion on his or her HD vid-enable DSLR. These folks are kick-ass from set-up to set-up. But sometimes they are weak understanding how to shoot for mise en scene editing. But, as I have always maintained, when I find myself on set (for a project of mine or someone else) I’m always heartened if the lead cast members have a deep theater history and if the camera crew have a serious background in still photography.

And so, I’m wondering, is there is a sudden resurgence of those wonderful pretentious experimental films of decades past when it was common to find breathtaking art films with beautifully composed clips? Is this happening? I’m a bit out of touch.

I want the San Antonio chapter of NALIP to return to those great video slams of the past. Anyone was welcome to show up with a DVD and share their work. There was no slamming, really. Just keep the clip under a certain length. It helped to bring people together. And it helped to see what the seasoned professionals were doing in their spare time, as well as the sometimes brilliant work which came from self-taught hobbyists.

Maybe I’ll bring this up at the next NALIP-SA meeting. I sometimes forget I’m a board member.

So, if you’re playing around with making movies on a DSLR, please stretch your creative wings and take our breath away.

An actor I worked recently — great guy, talented and professional — called up to know if could pass my contact information on to a friend who was working on making a TV series. “A cross between Seinfeld and Sex in the City.” I help my tongue and didn’t say what I was thinking. (Which was: “I can’t think of anything more horrendous.”)

Because of all the shit I’ve seen generated by well-meaning naifs who own a video camera and an editing suite, I no longer will work on projects which can be pitched as resembling this or that TV show or Hollywood blockbuster. Folks, you are all in over your heads.

Give me artists, documentarians, and those pimply-faced neurotics with their “passion projects” which resemble nothing you’ve ever heard of before.

What I really should be doing right now is editing two particular projects. I’m helping Jump-Start put together a short reel for a grant application. I said I’d turn in a preliminary edit tomorrow afternoon. Also, my Luminaria film needs some serious attention. The deadline isn’t going to go away.

On a positive note, I now have all the video shot for my Luminaria film. I just need to knit it together into something on the fabulous side of adequate.

The film is a simple affair. A series of night shots of ST Shimi hoop-dancing in interesting areas of downtown. We’d already shot several locations along the river walk. In Main Plaza. Under the arch at HemisFair park. And tonight we shot bridges.

First was Houston Street where it passes under highway 281. This is part of Bill FitzGibbon’s permeant art installation titled “Light Channels.” Both the Commerce Street and Houston Street underpasses are lit with LED lights which change colors and flash in patterns. They are collectively and colloquailly known as the “Disco Underpass.” It’s an awkward place to shoot. The level of light coming off the LEDs (though they create a lovely tableau) is fairly dim for shooting video. Even with my f1.4 lens and my ISO cranked up around 4000, it was a challenge. I set up a little kicker light I picked up years ago to mount on my Canon GL2. I used my Gorillapod as a light stand. Here are a few still images from the shoot.

Next, Shimi and I headed over to the Hays Street Bridge. Now I should come clean and admit that I’m generally suspicious of urban renewal projects. They usually portend some savage gentrification master plan (which is why I hope that the vile motherfuckers responsible for the Cevallos Street Loft project all fall on their asses and fail — if it succeeds as the developers wish, it will drive a stake into the heart of Southtown and South Flores, eventually pricing all of the artists from the neighborhood). But I digress.  I was talking about a bridge project. A bridge which is fucking awesome. It serves no real purpose. Sure, it goes over a railroad track. The train still runs down there. But the steel girder bridge was not originally built to handle heavy vehicular traffic. When I visited before the renovation, it had a wooden surface which was heavily rotted. Anyway, the bridge has a new wooden floor. It is now a huge foot bridge. But more than that, it’s a park, a piece of preserved history, an example of industrial construction as historical sculpture … it’s a lot of things. But mostly it’s fucking awesome.

I want to stage theater, dance, and film events here. I want to use it as a location in every film I shoot.

Here are a couple of photos from tonight’s shoot. The wider shot is perfect, except Shimi has her eyes closed. In the close-up photo I have used my kicker light mounted on my Gorillapod with its articulated legs wrapped around a nearby girder. The wide shot is all existing light on the bridge.

Friday.

A nice San Antonio day. I started things off with a late breakfast at Los Sarapes, one of my local eateries. Their chicken chilaquiles in a tomatillo sauce is sweet ambrosia. I lounged in my booth, sipping coffee and reading the paper. I hadn’t read the Express-News in months. It’s become a piss poor excuse for a newspaper. Or so I’d thought. This issue was heady with conflict, San Anto-style. All sorts of shit about the Alamo. The 175 anniversary of the battle is underway. There was a story about the Daughters of the Republic of Texas (a seething and disfunction snake pit of bigoted harridans), and how charges have been aimed their way that they have mismanaged resources. There was also an article as well as an editorial about the goddamn tourist traps in Alamo Plaza, like the Ripley’s Museum. And then there was a piece about how the Alamo narrative taught in schools ignores the importance of the Tejanos, those people here for generations before the fight at the Alamo–people who, in fact, built the Alamo, and the missions, and this city.

Next I stopped by URBAN-15 to drop off my video projector. They want to use it for their event Saturday night. A big party where the ensemble members watch a live feed from the Carnival parades in Brazil. George Cisneros wasn’t around. He’s in Savannah. David Rubin’s Psychedelic Show, which originated at the SanAntonio Museum of Art, is now on the road. And George has a room-sized installation. So I guess he was traveling to set it up in Georgia.

There are a couple of things which have happened concerning URBAN-15 and George Cisneros having to do with Luminaria–actions I find fairly disturbing. I hope these over-sights and poor behavior seemingly originating from Luminaria can be resolved. I don’t want to see something with such great potential as Luminaria becoming a battlefield because of petty and ill-advised behavior.

Time will tell.

I then had to motor up to the outer cracker belt where Seme Jatib is teaching at some suburban dance studio. She wanted to show me what she’s been working on with her three dancers. She has a work in progress which she will be presenting at Luminaria. I like it a lot. Very energetic.

She also showed me a few parts of a long work she will be presenting in April and May, work which she wants me to help with video work for the final multi-media performance. And I’m already coming up with greet ideas. It’s gong to be two extraordinary performances!

I drove back home and began gathering video and audio equipment. I’d been asked to video tape the First Friday show at Jump-Start.

The show, titled “Fish Tale,” was part of Jump-Start’s window series. These are free shows which seem to happen during First Friday events. They’re short and innovative, and utilize the large window which looks out from the theater’s lobby. Sometimes that action also happens outside, in front of the window. “Fish Tale” was created by Billy Munoz and ST Shimi, with Shimi performing the solo performance art piece.

I showed up with my 7D. I love this camera, but the limitation of each clip (about 12 minutes, and you need to start again), while doesn’t bother me when shooting production style, is a bitch when you’re shooting a real world event which unfolds for more than those measly 12 minutes. But, I knew I had two performances to shoot. I’d have material with which to cut back and forth to.

Once I checked out the layout of the performance space, I left my stuff inside Jump-Start and checked out some of the galleries and studios. Now that Annette Laundry and her husband (both excellent photographers) have moved into a space upstairs from Jump-Start, I now have another studio where I can drop in and visit with a talented artist who I enjoy talking with.

I made it back to “Fish Tale” and set up my tripod for the first performance. I had almost no idea how the piece would unfold. But I knew I would have a second chance to shoot. So, suddenly, show time!

It was a great piece.We open on a beach. This is a region of pavement in front of the Jump-Start window. A woman who is visiting the beach as a tourist is having a nice relaxing time in her lounge chair as she slathers on the suntan lotion and then begins to read a magazine. But then things go wrong. She begins to explore. Discovers tar balls all over the place. The damn stuff is on her skin. She can’t get it off. Not with rubbing, not with sea water. She panics. And then she finds herself turning into a fish … well, sort of a Lady Gaga sexy mermaid. This takes us to the second and final act. She appears inside, fully fishyfied. The tableau is a lovely art-designed underwater set with seaweed and shit. Fans mounted on the floor of the stage (the seafloor) are blowing Shimi-fish-Gaga’s blond wig all over the place, and it looks damn well like she’s swimming around. All is wonderful as this sexy fish-woman is cavorting under the sea … until the music turns terse. And a curtain slowly rises, from the bottom of the window, to the top–it’s the rising of crude oil mucking up the ocean. Shimi-fish is struggling, panicking. It dons’t end on a good note. (A smart mom adroitly escorted her toddler son off when she saw how the narrative would play out … she left the boy with a sweet memory of “that pretty mermaid girl.”)

The second show was just as good. I switched angles. And I think I cut together both performances.

As I was packing up my equipment, I took this still image. Troy Wise was snapping some of his brilliant photos after the show, and I surreptitiously snapped a few shots of my own from the wings. Here’s a nice shot of Shimi, in her under-the-sea environment. And even though the photo is from behind, I think most people will agree that ST Shimi is sexy and compelling and outrageously fit from any point of view.

@@@@@

Saturday.

Another nice San Antonio day.

I caught up on my RSS feeds. Had a sumptuous double cappuccino from the espresso machine. And eventually I made my way downtown. I had a meeting with ST Shimi. And because I had squandered away so much time making dirty love to dark roast coffee and foamed milk whilst browsing Reddit, I realized I didn’t have time to walk or take the trolly downtown. So I hopped in my truck and drove to my favorite and super-secret parking space which is always available. Because I was lugging my camera with me, I took a couple of photos around the corner where I park. Check them out. Maybe you will recognize the block and crack my code.

I met Shimi at Luke. And as much as I want to add an apostrophe and “S,” I’ll respect the signage and website. It’s a Louisiana-style eatery on the River Walk. I’d been there once before with Shimi and Marisela. Good fishy fare with nice happy hour prices.

The bottom line is, this place is too damn fancy for me. But one of the things which endears me towards Shimi is her love of mildly sophisticated comforts. She’s not a snob, but she loves good food, good drink, and generally being treated special. I can dig it. And though it isn’t my personal custom, I do enjoy this world on occasion.

I got there about five minutes before Shimi. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a pricy and tasty brown ale on tap. When Shimi showed up, we decided to sit outside. We ordered the craw-fish boil, because Shimi had been thinking about craw-fish all day. And little did I know, Shimi wanted us to sit outside because she’d learned a Mardi-Gras-esque river parade was scheduled at a bit after we arrived.

It was pretty cool. We were looking over a stone wall down at the river as boats filled with costumed dancers threw beaded necklaces up to us. It was a lot of fun.

Our meeting involved several projects. First there is our Luminaria project. It’s a film and live performance collaboration. We still need one more night of shooting. And then there is a performance coming up at Jump-Start. There is a need for some video, and I’ve been asked to help out. Of course I said yes. Once things are put into place, I’ll mention in this blog the particulars. And then there was a lager matter. Jump-Start wants to bring me on as their official video person. The pay might not be so great, but I will know in advance what work is coming my way. Also, I will be working with people I respect and care about. But most important, I will be in a position to expand my relationships with some of the most interesting and accomplished creative individuals working in the performance arts of San Antonio.

I feel incredibly honored to be asked to be part of what I have called on several occasions the only truly experimental theater in San Antonio. Also, Jump-Start is the venue where some of the most interesting dance performances are held. There are easily ten individuals who are either Jump-Start company members, or folks who often perform at Jump-Start, who I hold in rock star status–well, local rock star status. It’s very satisfying to find myself on friendly terms with people like Shimi, Lisa, Monessa, Steve, Billy, Dino, Laurie, Marisela, Ana, Doyle, and on and on.

@@@@@

Back home I took a nap. And then I headed out to pay my rent check … a bit late, but I’ve been distracted recently. True, not an excuse I would ever articulate, but, well, whatever ….

As I was leaving the house to drive to my landlady’s place I noticed Doyle Avant riding his bike down my street. I had been talking to Doyle the previous night at the Jump-Start window show. Doyle does, on occasion, these massively brilliant performance art monologues at the W-I-P (Works in Progress) program at Jump-Start. He’s a very good performer, but what always amazes me is the writing he does for his monologues. He’s probably the best writer currently working in San Antonio. And, yes, I know what I’m saying. He’s even better than me.

I dropped my rent check off to my landlady. I then made a stop at my grocery store (the La Fiesta on S. Flores). The lovely young Latina working the register was new to me. I read her name tag. Disney. I really wanted to ask her how she felt about her name, but because I have little respect for the Disney industry I was afraid I might come across dickish. Actually, it could be a pretty name, were it not tainted by, well, you know, Disney.

@@@@@

Around 9:45 tonight I decided to head over to URBAN-15. I was invited to their private viewing party. They were watching the Carnival events from Brazil televised on satellite TV. I’ve been to a couple of these parties before. The feed from Brazil is insane. This stuff is pure psychedelia. You need no drugs. But it’s exhausting to watch this sort of stuff. The imagery is so dense and varied that the brain, at a certain point, no longer cares to try and make sense of all this vibrantly colored madness.

And so, tonight at URBAN-15, I had a great deal of fun, for a short period of time.

Back in 2008 I was selected to attend a weekend professional development workshop for artists run by the NYC art funding organization Creative Capital. The San Antonio Office of Cultural Affairs sponsored this event, and I assume that members of that bureaucracy were involved in the vetting process. If that’s the case, thank you so much OCA! There were, I believe, 23 of us at this two day session. Twenty-three San Antonio artists. Of this group, I only personally knew two; three others I had heard of; the rest were new to me. But after the workshop, I would say that fifteen of these folks I am now connected to — I go to their shows, I advocate their work, and some of them I collaborate with. The truth is, these annual workshops have run from 2007 to 2010 (and hopefully they will continue), and my deepest artistic collaborative relationships are with these Creative Capital alumni.

Creative Capital provides funding for many artistic disciplines. They divide them into two clumps. One clump per year. So, each disciplines, like, say, film/video, is funded every other year. I missed the last funding cycle. But not this one. I cut short my lucrative gig in Dallas a day early to head home. There were some important materials I needed for my proposal which were in a hard drive I’d left back home in San Antonio. So, I hopped in my truck, and headed out of Dallas around 8:30 at night. I got home a little after one in the morning. I worked on my proposal until about 4 when I took a nap for a few hours. I got back up, made coffee, and got back to work. And, hey, don’t point and laugh. I had begun it a couple days back. But it’s deceptively comprehensive. Eventually I hammered out something …. at least. It probably sucks. But I made the deadline. I have placed my proposal into the 2011 Creative Capital hopper.

Here’s hoping the hopper smiles back. But I won’t know until sometime in June. We’ll wait and see.

@@@@@

I’ve been in a fairly foul mood lately. Luckily I’m unemployed, so I can lay low and not make other people miserable.

In fact, I wrote a lengthy blog the other night railing against things which were pissing me off. I decided not to post it because, even though I didn’t mention people by name, canny San Antonians might be able to read between the lines. And it’s not those people I’m upset about. Sure, I find myself, often, interacting with people who grate on my nerves and who I have little respect for, but whose fault is that? Certainly not theirs. So, I decided that unless I have a solution, I need to stop bitching about the problem. But, damn, I get sick of hearing myself bitch.

Instead of just lashing out and shutting people out of my life who I think are even more pathetic than myself, I’ve decided to take it slow. I’ve managed this with a couple of individuals already. Just dialed down my interaction. Eventually I just stopped reading their emails and listening to their voice mails. There are maybe six other people I need to start doing this to. Now that I have a a successful non-confrontational passive-aggressive template of success, it’s time to take it to prime time.

@@@@@

It was a lovely day. My iPhone promised it’d get up to 80 or so. I don’t know if it ever did. When I went out for a bike ride around one this afternoon it was about 70. I wasn’t feeling very ambitious, so I tossed my bike in my truck. On my way to Mission park I stopped at the fruteria on Roosevelt near the golf course. I picked up a fruit cup. And then I drove to the parking lot of Mission Park behind the old Mission Drive-In. I picnicked on my fruit cup. Then I suited up and rode out to Mission Espada and back. Maybe 10 miles. I stopped at a little hill between Mission Espada and the San Antonio River. I sprawled out on the grass and took a little nap in the sun. I forget, sometimes, that life can be good.

@@@@@

I’ve been asked to film the window show at Jump-Start tomorrow. Jump-Start Performance Company often has free outdoor theater events during the monthly First Friday art celebration in my neighborhood. The Blue Star Art Complex is ground zero for this artsy bacchanalia. And Jump-Start, one of the most prestigious venues in Blue Star, makes its presence known by staging experimental theatrical works for free. The crowds remain outside. The action happens in a large window, or the raised loading dock of their front entrance, or the ground level, under the window … or, more often, a combination of two or more of these locations.

I have no idea how tomorrow’s show will play out. But I’ll be there. It’ll be fun. Jump-Start never disappoints. And I understand that tomorrow’s show was created by ST Shimi and Billy Munoz. And, they too, never disappoint.

It was an unproductive low-impact kind of day. After a late breakfast at Eddie’s Taco House I made my way to some hotel at 1604 and 281 (and why anyone would willing travel to such a suburban shit hole — let along live there — is beyond my comprehension (that is where my imaginative prowess breaks down). Anyway, this is one of the locations chosen by OCA (the San Antonio Office of Cultural Affairs) to hold their community outreach workshops where they explain to interested artists and arts organization a new initiative of theirs. CAAP, or the Community Arts Access Program, has been created to replace the Neighborhood Cultural Initiative (something like that — and I would never dump on that now retired program, because Ramon, Deborah, and I benefited from it back in 2005).

The Drury Plaza Hotel is a sad structure. Maybe a year old. It’s one of those buildings so popular in Texas’ edge cities, built out of aluminum, styrofoam, and industrial stucco. It’s an eyesore now, but wait five years and it will be an unkempt eyesore, as those disposable materials with which it was constructed begin to give way. (And, really, most of the new growth hotels in downtown San Antonio are in the same boat. If only I had the money to purchase them, I’d buy them and set the wrecking balls loose up them.) I do know I’m digressing. But one last dig. While we were in the meeting room (I believe it was room 103), I had to suffer an hour and a half with two semi-recessed ballasted lights in the ceiling flicking, out of synch, every two to seven seconds. I sure hope OCA didn’t dish out any money for this dreary Drury venue.

I’m done.

The presentation was run by Frank Villani. Frank’s cool. He’s smart and funny, and very sharp. He’s a good man to have on the side of the arts. I’ve met with him on several occasions, but I’m never sure if he remembers who I am.

The CAAP sounds like a good idea. The concept is for OCA to petition San Antonio artists and art & cultural organizations to submit proposals to be listed on a city arts roster. This is similar to what we here in Texas have on a state level (until those god damn Republicans pull the funding for the arts in Texas … just as they pull funding for education (these fiscal conservative tea party assholes won’t be happy until the general US population’s cultural and technical literacy is akin to that of Somalia).

I’ve worked with Humanities Texas and their roster of experts for an event I produced. I was able to find a sponsor to get the needed matching funds to bring in a guest speaker.

This is how CAAP works. There is a sliding scale of the percentage which OCA will pay the artist. The organization who wants the artist (or group) to preform or present needs to find a way to come up with the balance. So, this is basically an incentive program. But here’s the weird and wonderful thing. Okay. Say you are an artist who passes through the vetting process. Let’s say you’re a performance artist who wants to reach out to kids. You create a story-telling style. You offer several stories. Video examples are posted on the CAAP website. A school calls CAAP. They’ve seen that you will come out with your guitarist for 500 bucks. They pay 250, and CAAP pays 250 (and don’t quote me on the breakdown, because it’s not always half and half) — and, here’s the great thing: of that 500 dollars, it all goes to the storyteller (hopefully she (or he) throws some to the guitarist). But you see that this can be quite empowering for the artists in town. Yeah, I’m sure there are already people thinking of how this is just a divisive crock, but, me? I’m using the next five weeks or so until the submission deadline to figure out how I might present myself as a wonderful artist, educator, facilitator, for this new venture of OCA.

And let me say this about the San Antonio Office of Cultural Affairs. If you are an artist in San Antonio and you feel that OCA doesn’t give a rat’s ass about you, well, what are you doing about it? As a filmmaker with little in the way of a CV — I don’t have a Masters and I don’t often screen at festivals — I have managed to work with OCA in such a manner that I worked on a group project (Dia de los Artistas) which was heavily funded by OCA; I attended a professional development conference as a member of NALIP, and OCA paid a good chunk of that; OCA sponsored me for their annual Creative Capital weekend retreat; I was one of the judges for the first annual Neighborhood Film Project, co-sponsored by OCA and the San Antonio Film Commission; and for three years I have sat on the Luminaria Arts Night in San Antonio steering committee, an annual event heavily funded by OCA.

You said, hey, OCA’s not helping me much! Well, does OCA know who you are? OCA barely knows who I am, but OCA has given so much to me. Oh, and, yeah, I try my best to give back to OCA. Don’t worry. It’s fine. All San Antonio artists and performers are part of my family, my community. And that includes the arts administrators. Sure, there are many of you (artists and bureaucrats) who I don’t really like (many know who you are), but if you’re besieged, I’ll leap in to defend you.

@@@@@

As the sun began to set tonight I realized I really wanted to see an art instillation on the nearby riverwalk extension. I had seen the installation before several times, but only in the daytime. This is a footbridge with sandstone blocks on the sides which have been painted in festive colors. But the paint has been mixed with a luminous agent. They been made into glow-in-the-dark bricks. It sounded so cool to me. I love glow-in-the-dark anything! So, tonight, I decided to go out and see it. I wanted to take pictures, so I grabbed my Canon 7D and a tripod. I got there at twilight. No big deal. The bridge is only a quarter mile from my place (but because I still have a cold I feel vindicated that I drove there instead of walked).

As the sun set, I took some pictures of the river. Here’s a slow shutter image.

And when the sun finally set, I walked back to the glow-in-the-dark bridge.

What the fuck? It was lit by a bright sodium vapor street light on the railroad bridge above. Here’s a shot of the bridge at night, lit by that damn lamp.

So, what’s the problem? Who allowed this to happen? OCA? PASA? I know we can’t blame the artist. This problem has to be fixed. I know something like this would never have happened on the northern museum extension. The city had better get their shit together. Don’t leave the southside hanging. Kill this light and fix Anne Wallace’s bridge a mile down river.

I was posting something on a FaceBook page about post-pop music created by Eric Bosse (my doppelgänger who spells his name with a C). I shared a link to a song by a band called Shock Header Peters. They arose from the dissolution of the Lemon Kittens (mostly known for band member Danielle Dax). Anyway, I mentioned a fond memory of my father. First, let me explain what will be the punchline below. The Shock Headed Peters named themselves from the German children’s book, Der Struwwelpeter, which, in English translations is titled either Shockheaded Peter, or Slovenly Peter. The books are famous for the buzzer and grizzly images to scare your kids shitless and make them behave. For instance, there’s a little story about a little girl who plays with matches. She, of course, burns to death. Anyway, back to my father. I was maybe sixteen and hanging out at the family bookstore. The phone rang. My father answered, “Aldredge Book Store.” He paused while the other person spoke. Then: “I’m sorry, but that’s a very personal question.” He hung up the phone returned to perusing the Weekly World News. “Well,” I finally said. “What was that all about?” “Oh, they wanted to know if I had a Slovenly Peter.”

And then there was the occasion I was doing some minor leather restoration on a set of 18th century bindings. The phone rang. He answered. “Aldredge Book Store.” Pause. Then: “No, but I think I have a book about rats in Tibet. … Hello?” He shrugged and hung up. He returned to pricing a stack of Texana items. “Well?” He looked over at me. Took a sip from his can of Lone Star beer. “Wanted to know if we had anything about Meissen china.”

@@@@@

Today was the deadline for the Neighborhood Film Project. Friday, Feb. 17. 3pm. The date and time had been stamped on my brain since my first day of shooting, back on February 8th.

Here’s a random screen grab. My star, Lisa Suarez, is so damn appealing.

I can’t remember when I first came up with the story concept. When I decided to enter the contest I was assuming Seme and I would collaborate on a Dance for the Camera piece. Her choreography, my cinematography and editing. But then had the opportunity to take a workshop in Brussels. Pretty cool. I rethought things and decided to do a straight narrative.

My idea was all dependent on Lisa Suarez. Sure she’s shouted out to me on the night of the Jump-Start Performance Party something like, “When are we going to work together.” But was she serious. I decided to write a short script where I could exploit her ability to play an elderly woman. I created the charter of a woman who runs a local theater hitting tough times. She decides to use her theatrical skills to transform herself into an old lady and rob a bar. I was thrilled when Lisa said yes.

There were several things working against me. Lisa is a very busy woman. And I had to accommodate to her schedule. I’m not complaining. I knew this going in. Besides, if I win this film contest, it will be because of her. She’s fucking amazing–clearly the secret weapon giving me an edge. There was also the problem that I needed to shoot some b-roll of dense First Friday crowds. But the one opportunity to shoot was such a cold and miserable night that there were no crowds. And worst, I guess, was the fact that I had no crew. I’ve not shot a narrative in three or four years. I’ve fallen out of touch with my so-called crew base. And I put off the pre-production so long that I wasn’t able to give potential crew a reasonable lead-time to adjust schedules.

My crew consisted of three friends. On one day I had two. On two days I had one. And on one day I had none–just me.

When it came down to me editing the footage, I was dismayed that the audio on some of the days was way too soft. I can’t fault my crew. I established the audio settings. Well, we do what we can do. Hopefully we learn. I think I fixed some of the problems I created for myself shooting the JSPC Performance Party video. I became more conscious of my aperture. I created a solid workflow during the editing process. And I delegated more to my tiny crew.

I wish I had secured a couple of locations I never actively pursued. I wish I had started earlier. And I wish I had had a larger crew. But nonetheless, I had a masterful cast and a small but wonderful crew, I enjoyed every shoot. What a great time!

Here’s a clip from the film:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UffvhGvAieI&w=640&h=390]

At around 2:30 I dropped my entry off at the offices of the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center. Manuel Solis, who runs the GCAC’s CineFestival (and I assume all their media programs) told me they’d already received about 30 entries. Knowing how insanely tightly filmmakers ride a deadline, I was confident that there could still be 30 more entries. As I was chatting with Manny, Pablo Veliz entered to drop off his entry. He told me his was for the westside. Mine, the southside. Good. Who wants to compete against Pablo?

I went home to hang up my laundry. And because I hadn’t eaten all day, I decided to chase down a mid-afternoon breakfast. My choice was Ric Ron’s Cafe. Their food is good but not great. But they are open 24 hours a day. And, really, trying to find a Mexican Cafe open after 3pm in San Antonio isn’t so easy — they’re basically breakfast and lunch. I had a tasty cheese enchilada platter.

Then I headed home to take a nap.

But Deborah called. She said she was at Ric Ron’s and would I like to join her.

I don’t believe in the supernatural, but in the interest of a narrative device, it’s clear we have a psychic connection.

I rushed right over. I mean it was Deborah. And I don’t say no to Deborah. When I say down at her booth, I pulled out my iPhone and showed her the photo I had taken of my Ric Ron’s cheese enchilada which I had eaten only an hour earlier. And to make it stranger, she was sitting at the same booth I had been sitting at. And the booth we normally sit at was one space away.

We hung out for a couple of hours, drinking bad coffee and swapping chisme. I’d also brought along my laptop and a copy of my film to give her. We watched it on the table, but because the audio on a laptop isn’t so robust, and there were other conversations going on, I did my best to explain the storyline. She seemed to enjoy it. I popped out the disc, gave it to her, and suggested that she watch it somewhere where she could control the volume.

I headed back home to take my laundry off the line.

I think Old Man Winter has finally been put down. Me, well, I’m happy to dance on the sour bastard’s grave. I earned my first sunburn of the year by spending a wonderful day shooting video out and about on the southside.

The morning was a bit suspect. And as I was assembling my morning cappuccino, I found myself looking out on a dreary morning with a light mist settling down on the neighborhood. I knew it was supposed to clear up and get warm by late morning or early afternoon. But it looked like the first scene I planned to shoot of the day would be overcast.

I planned to shoot in the large central parking-lot of the Blue Star Arts Complex. But the construction crews working on the river walk expansion were out in noisome force. Backhoes, cement mixers, bobcats, big diesel generators. Shit! I decided to move to that little alleyway back towards the UTSA satellite gallery. Jacinto Guevara was the first to show up. He was to play the role of a fictional Southtown artist. He gave his character a name. Odum Hohnerman. My friend Deborah showed up to help me out. And then Nikki Young showed up. She was to play the role of a TV news reporter. I had sent her a script. And she made some great embellishments, such as creating a name for the TV station, as well as giving her character a name. Nova Mendoza. She showed up absolutely glamourous in a stylish suit. (Afterwards, Deborah said that Nikki really should be a TV reporter or news personality, but she might be too cute with too much fashion sense.) The shoot when great. Jacinto and Nikki were perfect. I only hope we didn’t get too much in the way of artists Bryson and Holly Brooks, because we were basically shooting on the front porch of their Blue Star loft.

Deborah and I took a late breakfast at Los Sarapes (a cafe on S. Presa, located in the building which once housed the late and lamented Pepe’s Cafe). I highly recommend the chicken chilaquiles with the tomatillo sauce.

And then we drove back to the Blue Star parking-lot to meet up with Lisa. And that’s when the sun came out. Perfect. I wanted clear skies to shoot a montage of Lisa jogging along the river on the southside.

Lisa brought along her mom. Mom can walk, but she’s getting up in years, and we were planning to set up shots where we needed to walk a bit of distance, so Lisa had brought along a wheelchair. Lisa’s mother suffers from Alzheimer’s, and it’s fascinating (and quite moving) to watch the coping mechanisms which they both have developed to help them navigate through their days.

We shot at five locations along the river, from Blue Star, all the way down to Mission San Juan. Lisa grew up on the southside, so she knew the area well. And Deborah has a long history of the area as well. And I also know the area fairly well. The four of us had a great time.

What I was shooting was a montage of Lisa jogging. It’s important to the script to show her as a strong, fit woman. And I knew she could pull it off. Lisa isn’t just one of the more talented actors in town, she’s also a certified gym rat. She teaches various workout classes. For a woman almost as old as me, she’s beautiful, sexy, and very fit. Here’s a still from today’s shoot.

@@@@@

We wrapped around five. I headed home, with the thought of taking a nap. I never managed to get around to that. I had some pressing email to deal with.

By seven in the evening I gathered my audio equipment and headed north to a grocery store on the far northside to crew on a short film which the good folks of PrimaDonna Productions were shooting. It was just a two and a half hour shoot.

The best thing was that I got to see Katsy Joiner. I love her. I haven’t seen her in probably four or five years. She’s a wonderfully accomplished and lovely actress. She’s not aged a day. What I like about Katsy is that she always treats everyone with the same warm and kind consideration. She’s engaged and curious about the whole production process. I like to think that in high school she was this bombshell who looked like she should be a cheerleader, but she was actually something of a nerd in the AV club.

So, now, it’s pushing 1am. I’m winding down. Drinking Modelo. I should be editing or sleeping. I’m foolishly doing neither. I’m gonna had to bust ass tomorrow and Thursday. I need to turn all this mess (video and audio clips) into a coherent eight minute (or less) short film, with the delivery date and time of 3pm at the Office of Cultural Affairs–oops, I mean the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center (this is good, because the parking will be easier to find).

And, now that I think about it, I realize I’ve not eaten since Los Sarapes. I wonder what’s in the refrigerator…?