There are two people I know who are having to travel to attend funerals this week. And I was speaking with another friend the other day who has had three important people in her life recently pass way. And so it would seem petty of me to bemoan being alone on Valentines Day. And though I do find the notion of some woman swooning over me appealing, the cold truth is, it just ain’t happening. So, I’ll do my best to remind myself that I have quite a few friends who, though not apparently swooning over me, might find my passing poignant enough to travel to attend my funerary services. So, guys, I’ll rewrite my will so as to be interred in Fiji or Machu Picchu. Start saving up now.

Today was about downtime. I’ve been busy shooting my Neighborhood Film Project short movie these last few days. Tomorrow is the final day of shooting. And then the editing begins. Right now I’m preparing my video and audio files. I’ve been shooting on a Canon 7D. To make the video files work best with my version of Final Cut (video editing program) I’ve needed to transcode all of them into the Apple ProRes format. This is fairly slow on my computer. About a minute of reformatting for each minute of video. Also, I just finished going through the SD card from my solid state audio recorder (the Zoom H4n). It had audio clips from 4 days of shooting on my project, as well as from the night I gathered sound on a short film being shot by PrimaDonna Productions. (The Zoom allows you to save to various files, but I didn’t bother to do that, so everything was in one big folder. But it was easy enough to separate them.) I’m not really looking forward to matching the audio to the video. It’s not that hard, but it’s tedious. There’s a piece of software that runs about a hundred bucks that does it for you. I’m sorely tempted.

As I’m typing this, the MPEG Streamclip program (it’s free and simply awesome!) is chomping through my video, as it turns the clips into something more palatable for my editing system. I look over to my other computer’s screen every so often. There’s a little window which shows images from the video. There’s some great stuff! I love all my actors and crew. My script might not have been terribly strong. My shooting, uneven. And to be honest, I’m not sure we’re going to win. But the truth is, I captured some wonderful performances.

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An aside. I am listening to my blip.fm channel. “The State I’m In,” by Belle & Sebastian just came up. I adore this song. Here’s what I wrote on my blip.fm page about this tune: “Though Jack Black’s explosive reaction to Belle and Sebastian in High Fidelity cracks me up, I do love this song.”

Click here for a taste of saccharine goodness:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=soMbZ7eLKlM

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Tomorrow Jacinto Guevara is showing up for my penultimate video shoot for my current film project. Jacinto grew up on southern California. He’s been here in San Antonio quite a few years longer than I have. His paintings are vibrant and colorful and alive. His portraits are quite magical. But I think I prefer his paintings of homes and other buildings. He distorts perspective in a way I can’t quite understand. He gives luminosity and life to the cityscape. He makes me think of de Chirico. Here’s a webpage with some great images of Jacinto’s works:

http://www.slabcinema.com/jacinto/

Tomorrow he’s going to play a fictional Southtown artist who has just finished a rendition of a robbery suspect in the manner of a police sketch artist.

Oh, and my on-the-scene reporter will be played by the luscious and madly-talented Nikki Young (my dear friend who I believe is one of the few people still reading my blog). (Hey, Nikki!)

Following the news crew bit, I’m off with Lisa to shoot some b-roll of her out and about in the environment. And then, we need to shoot a short scene of her at home. And I’m hoping we can use Deborah’s apartment.

Yeah, and I also have to shoot an insert of the close-up of a TV playing the news. Maybe I’ll shoot that Wednesday.

I’m also excited about the music component to this piece. I reached out to a FaceBook friend who I’ve never met before. Lisa Arnold (AKA Falling Lisa). I don’t know who friended whom. But over the months (years?) I’ve been amazed at the depth and breadth of her musical influences. Much of her work which she’s presented on social media sites is of the singer-song-writer style. Often just her and a guitar. But there are also a few tantalizing clips of her more experimental side. She called me earlier today and said she’s sending some audio files over soon. I can’t wait!

Saturday.

What a fun day. Even though I’m deep into a cold. I’m at the point where my voice cracks from borderline laryngitis, and I try not to laugh because it will throw me into a coughing fit, resulting in bringing up great wads of stringy phlegm, and…. But perhaps no one really needs to know that. Anyway, I did manage to wake up from last night’s NyQuil-induced coma. Still, it’s freezing weather here in San Antonio. At least in the early hours. I knew it was supposed to warm up considerably by the afternoon, but it took me until about 10:30 to crawl out of the covers and make a big-ass cappuccino. It was quite attractive. The foamed milk was threatening to spill over, but it couldn’t. It sat there in the cup like a big hat, all dusted with cinnamon. I pulled out my beloved Canon 7D. Snapped in the 50mm 1.8 lens and took a photo. Pure coffee porn. I posted it on FaceBook. And then, in private, with the curtains drawn, I consumed it.

Great. With coffee in me, I got down to figuring out my day. I looked over the script for my Neighborhood Film Project (and, dammit, I’m still stalled on finding a title). I had two scenes scheduled for the afternoon. I was to shoot in Jump-Start Performance Company’s space. My actors would be Lisa Suarez, Melissa Marlowe, and Dino Foxx. I decided on a fairly simple approach which didn’t really need a shot list or storyboards. My biggest concern was my lack of a crew. I threw out some emails and phone calls the night before as well as this morning. But no one seemed to be free or willing to get back to me. I knew I could crew it alone, but it would mean keeping the set-ups and camera work basic and static. Fine.

I had another cappuccino. Made some mote pillo (homey and eggs — a dish I thought I had invented because one day several weeks back all I had in the house were those ingredients. Later, when I Googled about it, I discovered I had been making an Ecuadorian staple. Over the weeks I have been perfecting it, and I gotta say it makes for a goddamn serious breakfast). I took a shower and schlepped my equipment (via my pick-up) the six blocks to Jump-Start.

Melissa showed up with her adorable daughter. Fine by me. Lisa sometimes shows up with her mom, for whom she’s the principle care-giver. The nice thing is that actors almost always have families who understand what it means to be on-stage or on-set (well, those family members they still speak with). And whether your daughter is in elementary school, or your mom is dealing with Alzheimer’s, there is this deeply engrained notion in these theater families that sometimes pretending can be serious business.

Dino showed up towards the end of the shoot, right when we needed him. And everything went smooth. The only problem was when I forgot to turn on my audio recorder for three camera setups. I had to suck it up and admit my stupidity. We reshot. My actors were sweet and forgiving.

Dino and Lisa gave me just what I thought they would. I’ve seen the both of them play a wide array of characters at many Jump-Start performances. I know their versatility. They can ham it up big, or bring it down small. And, man Melissa Marlowe is incredible. Sure, she’s great on stage. But what a joy to work with on camera. She’s wonderfully subtle and nuanced. Good old honest acting. You gotta love it. It takes my breath away when done right. Thanks so much Melissa!

I love doing film work with theater actors. They might not be so seasoned at replicating the same motion take after take. But they learn their lines well. And when they stumble, they catch themselves and continue in a way that you almost never notice that they’ve slightly and inadvertently changed a sentence around. But, because they are used to acting on stage, where there are no second takes, they are damn nimble. Some screen actors will just stop, a bit embarrassed, and let the crew know they’re ready to do it again. Because they’re being recorded, screen actors assume that the script is sacrosanct. Nope. The manner in which the actor delivers the lines is so much more important than the way the writer hammered them out.

Also, I love the theater culture and community. Actors and theater people rock!

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The scenes we were shooting at Jump-Start ended early. Melissa headed off. Dino had to make a meeting with his fellow Push Pens. And me and Lisa drove to S. Alamo to shoot some b-roll. Lisa walking here. Lisa walking there. Lisa walking in front of Tito’s. Lisa hungry. Erik hungry. We entered Tito’s for a late lunch…or early dinner.

I don’t really have a social life, but I guess I like people well enough. I’ve created this guise of a filmmaker, artist, cultural leader, etc., to give me opportunities to meet and hang out with interesting people. Lisa certainly fits the bill. And I had a great time getting to know her better over a meal at one of my favorite restaurants.

But because I needed to head way up to the north side to help out on a film being shot by PrimaDonna Productions, we rushed a bit on our meal.

As we left Tito’s we noticed a couple of guys roaming about with DSLR cameras.

I leaned over to Lisa. “Our competition,” I whispered.

“Filmmakers?” she asked.

I shrugged, not certain.

“You know them?” she asked, grabbing my arm.

I shook my head, no. And then I paused beside the guy whose camera was set atop a a monopod.

“Neighborhood Film Projected?” I asked in a whisper.

His head snapped around. He looked at me with a puzzled expression.

“Um, yeah,” he said.

“Good luck dude,” I said to him. And then I turned to Lisa: “This city is swarming with these fucking filmmakers.”

And the fact is, it is. It’s a cut-throat business, this Neighborhood Film Project. There are four prizes worth $3,000 each. And also four prizes for student filmmakers worth $1,000 each. Sure, there are a bunch of flakes and rubes out there making some shitty films, but there is also some heavy competition. We’ll see how it all shakes out.

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Up on the north side PrimaDonna was set up at Maxine Greco’s house. I was brought in to run audio. Chadd Green was directing, with Will Shipley as the DP. Pedro Castaneda and Maxine were the actors. Here are a couple of photos I snapped between set-ups.

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Sunday.

I was both looking forward to and dreading shooting today’s scene. Lisa Suarez puts on her old lady make-up and robs a bar. Gabe the Babe (AKA Gabriel Carmona) is the bartender. I really should have secured a proper bar as a location. But I’m so down with this cold that it’s impressive that I can even show up to my own production. I wussed out and decided to shoot tight and present C4 as a bar. I’m hoping that Lisa and Gabe are so interesting that the audience won’t even notice. We’ll see.

Earlier in the day I stopped by Home Depot to buy some props. I tried Guadalupe Lumber Company, but it seems they close on Sunday. I hate these hold-overs from the Blue Laws days. Anyway, when I stepped up to the cashier at Home Depot and laid down the crowbar and duct tape, I felt a bit self-conscious. But only had I added to my selection a bottle of ether would I truly have felt the need to explain myself.

Amanda Silva showed up to crew for me. She’s the best. A damn smart quick study. Amanda can work her way around just about any piece of equipment. She has a natural eye for composition. Perhaps a designer by training, but she’s clearly an artist at heart. Plus, if you have Amanda on crew and one of your actresses craps out, call on Amanda. She’s beautiful, and most likely a better performer than the one who left you high and dry.

It was a fun shoot. The performances were great. I only hope the location doesn’t weaken the scenes.

Here are two photos of Lisa Suarez in make-up and out. Guess which is which.

The only downside of the night was that by the time Lisa and Gabe had left, and Amanda and I had finished returning C4 to it’s previous state, it was too late for me to make it to my grocery store before it closed. I’ve been so busy lately that I can’t seem to get to the store. This morning I fired up my espresso machine. I was out of milk. I did have some Half and Half. The expatiation date on the carton as a month old. I sniffed. But I have a cold. I sipped. But I had recently drunk a glass of grapefruit juice. So I made an espresso. Squeezed in some honey. And added some suspicious cream. I was potable, but not satisfying. And now, I guess, I can expect nothing better for tomorrow.

And, shit, who knows what I can scare up for my midnight dinner?

Maybe I’ll just down some NyQuil and check out for the night.

I just wrote an email to a friend concerning unconscious institutional bigotry. It’s quite common. We’re all guilty of this from time to time, no matter how virtuous and progressive we feel ourselves to be. It seems that attacking affirmative action has become a popular sport not just among conservatives, but also liberals, who feel, I suppose, that the struggles have been won. But the struggle continues. San Antonio is a great example. This city, as an incubator for the social experiment of ethnic equality, has made enormous strides since the 60s and the 70s. This city’s Mexicanos (be they US citizens (some who trace their ancestry in this city back more generations than I can count on fingers of both hands) or Mexican nationals (here legally or otherwise)) make up the majority of the population. And they had to fight for representation within the local political system. For the last couple of decades the faces of the San Antonio city council members has fairly well reflected the demographics of this city, in so far as gender and ethnicity. Maybe we’re even doing well with other categories such as socioeconomics and sexual orientation, but I’m not following local politics that closely.

Whenever I find myself in a group of people here in San Antonio, I often find myself doing a head count. I feel that something wrong is going on if the number of Mexicanos (Latinos, Chicanos, Hispanics, what have you) is less than half. I am also looking at the male to female ratio (though perhaps not for such elevated reasons). Because I often work with arts and cultural organizations on the south and west sides of the city, this is rarely a problem. Actually it’s not uncommon for me to be the only anglo in the room. And perhaps that’s just why I’m so sensitive to a preponderance of whitey.

There have been occasions when people ask why I identify so much with Mexicano culture. My answer is not very short. And it’s not very interesting. My usual response is the stock reply I use when people ask why I’m a board member of the San Antonio chapter of NALIP (the National Association of Latino Independent Producers): “Read the NSLIP mission statement. If you’re a San Antonio filmmaker and your body of work dons’t fit into this defined context, you might as well be making movies in Milwaukee, Canberra, or on the fucking moon.”

Anyway, art, narratives, story-telling, or whatever, is all deeply entrenched in place. And I’ve decided to hang my hat here in San Antonio. The hat is huge and shady. A damned sombrero. The faces, mostly brown. The voices, musical, just as often Spanish as English–usually switching back and forth. The bread is flat and round. The music combines accordion with electric guitar. And if you can’t conjugate “changer,” no matter what your skin-tone, you’re just another suspicious carpetbagger pendejo.

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Okay. Here’s what’s bugging me. Right now! My wi-fi router has become password free. Anyone can use it. This happened because I never made a note of the password. When I set it up, I let my white macbook know the access code. But when I got my macbook pro I realized that I couldn’t connect to the internet via my wi-fi router. I had no clue what the password was. And there seemed to be no way to retrieve it. It’s crazy, I know! There was one easy answer. Reset the router. This allowed me to let ANYONE use my wi-fi. And so that’s where I am. If I want to stop this madness, I will have to buy another router. Or so it seems (there might be a way to retrieve this info, but I’m not finding it….). And, damn, it seems that there must be some wi-fi hungry and horny neighbors suckling on my bandwidth. A pox, you scofflaws!

I’m blaming my fucking neighbors when my internet slows. But there is also the problem that when I’m working late at night (like right now), I have both my laptops running at once, each using the wi-fi signal. So, there’s the additional problem of competing with my own bandwidth with two hogging computers. Hell, I’ll still blame my fucking neighbors.

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Tomorrow I begin work on my Neighborhood Film Project movie. I have a few secret weapons. Three extraordinary actors, a kick-ass DP, and a special lucky charm I keep on my keychain!

Oh, shit. I need to pay my rent! Maybe my landlady will assume that I’ve been distracted because of the horrible cold weather we’ve had these last few days in San Antonio. Or maybe she thinks I’m a massive sports nut, and this upcoming Superbowl has got me all a-twitter. Woah — wait! I just checked Google. Super Bowl is two words. What do you know…?

I feel like a heel. This weekend is Cine Festival. It’s my favorite film festival. I totally blew it off. True, I’m poor. But probably I could have swung a full pass. I think the problem is that I just feel this crushing dark and miserable winter tsunami pressing down. That, and I am also ashamed that I failed to create something of value which I might have submitted. It’s been more years than I care to admit since I last had a film screen at Cine Festival.

So, I have been laying low. And, again in this blog, I quote or misquote from some translation of Camilo José Cela (hell, maybe it was Céline).

“Sometimes the best course of action is to drop out of sight like the dead.”

Anyway, I’m doing my standard half-assed job of avoiding the world these last few days. I’ve been more than happy to aid my friend Deborah. She was drawn into helping one of her fellow Northwest Vista teachers. It was a mission of mercy. And because I never say no to Deborah, and because the colleague in question is someone I had gotten to know fairly well, I was more than happy to help. My impulse to lay low was only partially realized. So, yes, I poked my head from my burrow to help a friend. And also I was out doing my Luminaria duties, more or less. I’m working on my Neighborhood Film Project movie. I’m helping out at C4 Workspace and attended First Friday. So, no, I’m not a complete recluse.

People have tried contacting me via email, text, and phone.

I hate texts. I have to pay for them because I haven’t bought into a fucking plan. If I like you (and the truth is, chances are I do), this is okay, just don’t make it a habit. I’m not too crazy about email. I’m not always quick to respond. Your important info is sitting there with spam and shit. Hardly appealing. FaceBook email is actually a bit better. I pay more attention to it than regular email because I receive less. Phone calls? Well…. Here’s the thing. If you don’t get me to answer, don’t bother leaving voice mail. I really hate listening to that shit. I’m fine with phones. Call me. If I don’t answer, call me again. Don’t leave a message, just pester me. I’ll know who’s calling when I’m not there to answer. My phone’s smarter than me. I’ll figure it out. Snail mail? Hey I’m all over that, but it’s so fucking exotic I shouldn’t even bother talking about it. Who’s gonna write a letter? The best way to get in touch with me? Face to face. Come and talk to me.

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A couple of years back I made the mistake to creating a website. I created it under my “production company” name, Eyewash Pictures. The site was hosted by 1&1, a company I thought stable and honest because of a word-of-mouth suggestion. What a horrible relationship! I’m not sure if I’m free of them yet. But it looks like they’ve stopped siphoning money off my credit card.

Yesterday I made a cursory perambulation through the internet, seeking a new place to park a website. I decided upon a place from which to purchase my domain (in this case: namecheap.com). And then I found a different hosting company (which is hostgator.com). So far it seems fine. The site-building software hostegator uses is SiteBuilder. I believe this is some creature which has evoked out of Geocities–and if this is true, how sweet, how archaic!

I tried to get, as my domain, erikbosseDOTcom, but it wasn’t available. Probably because the Erik Bosse in Massachusetts has already pounced on it. Best I can figure, he’s a musician turned photographer. So, maybe I need to reinvent myself. Erik’s not my first name. It’s my middle name. Let that young east coast guy have it. And then there’s Eric Bosse. He’s no youngster (though he’s younger than me). Eric has worked his ass off to create his identity as a writer and a filmmaker. His Eric Bosse brand is fairly well-established.

Because erikbosseDOTcom is unavailable, I decided to lean towards one of my other identities. My first name starts with an R. So, I could be R. Erik Bosse. And sometimes I am. But there have been some projects lately where I’ve identified myself as R. E. Bosse (basically to take the heat off Eric Bosse, who seems to be a truly swell guy) — and that slips easily into REBosse, or, in lowercase, rebosse.

Okay, so my new identity will be evolving over at www.rebosse.com

Here’s the deal, rebosse, if I’m going to, in a sense, start fresh, I want my work to be beautiful. I want it to be art. I have no strong ties to the crap I’ve generated in the past. I hope to do work of quality. And I hope you want to do quality work as well. Because if your primary tool is a digital camera and you’re not interested in creating art, I’m not interested in what you are doing. You see, entertainment without art is pure crap. And I really don’t want that vile fecund nastiness in my nostrils day in and day out.

True, I might completely fail to become successful as a self-respecting digital artist, but I’m going to give it a shot. That, and I hope to get published. This seems like a good year. For both.

So, what’s up with you guys?

Where is your aesthetic compass pointing?

It’s been something of a hectic week. Sort of. One of the more stressful elements is that I’ve been in a holding pattern, waiting to hear back from my occasional Dallas auction house gig. If they decide that they need me, it’ll be at least a week’s worth of work. Don’t get me wrong. This is great. This company has kept my financially afloat for going on three years. But, in my role as an outside contractor, I often don’t get much forewarning. I know it’s a 50/50 chance I’ll get the green light this week. So, I have been cautious about scheduling meetings.

This is troublesome because I have committed myself to six short video projects which have to be completed by the first week of March. I’m thinking about weaseling out of one, but still, that leaves a lot of stuff to do.

True, one is a paying gig. And, yes, another is for submission into a contest with a sizable prize. But the auction house lays the serious cabbage on the table.

So, late this afternoon I got a call. Could I be there tomorrow (Thursday)? This would mean leaving in the pre-dawn hours so I could put in a full day. I said I’d call back, because I needed to look at my schedule. And as I’m shifting things around, rescheduling meetings, I see an email come in. One of the Luminaria co-chairs wants to know if I can make a Thursday afternoon meeting.

I called the auction house back and let them know I’d be in for the beginning of the work day Friday, thus losing a paying day. So I don’t wanna hear any shit about what I am or am not doing for Luminaria. Volunteer committee work can often balloon up into a huge commitment of time. And I’m busting ass for Luminaria.

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Luminaria. Monday was the big meeting. The steering committee met at one of our secret locations (the Star Chamber, Number 3, AKA the Pearl Studio). This group is comprised of: the co-chairs of all seven disciplines, our four curatorial teams (two people, each), representatives from the mayors office, OCA, downtown ops, our two Luminaria co-chairs (Richard and Susanne), and probably a few other people I’m forgetting. Most of us were present. The curators took turns at the podium pitching their favored artists. A/V equipment was set up so we could all see and hear the samples provided by each artist. And then each of the disciplines did the same. It was quite impressive. Some amazing artists were being considered.

Next Tuesday was our agreed date when those artists who are in, and those who aren’t, will be revealed.

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I started off the year with a little film which I was asked to produce for the Jump-Start Performance Company’s annual performance party. So, for 2011 I’ve already produced a work and had it screened.

Upcoming projects? Well there’s Luminaria. I hope my proposal is accepted (and, no, it’s not yet a done deal). Also, Seme Jatib, if her proposal is accepted, may well be using a video backdrop of mine. The Jump-Start Performance Company wants me to produce a video work in collaboration with one of their up-coming shows. A certain outdoor movie screening group wants me to make them a promotion video. Choreographer Seme Jatib wants me to collaborate on a multi-media dance event in April, or is it May? And then there’s the Neighborhood Film Project–the deadline is Feb. 18th, and I’ve sent my script out to an amazing actress who, if she agrees, will give me a serious edge (there’s a $3000 prize!).

Hell! That’s a lot of work for a shiftless aging unemployed slacker. It would be nice if more of this stuff paid me some money.

I don’t know whether to be excited or depressed.

Yes, and I should go to bed soon. I have three meetings tomorrow.

I spent much of today in a couple of meetings concerning an up-and-coming local film organization. At some point I realized how often I was using the word “community.” So, instead of blogging about the events of today (perhaps a topic for a later date), I’d like to address another issue facing the San Antonio film community.

C4 Workspace.

They are hurting financially, and they need your help.

As many people know, I rent a desk at this, the first co-working space in town. I became a member when they first opened their doors just over a year and a half ago. Todd O’Neill and his wife Debbie Curtis have worked tirelessly to make C4 a unique space, not only in which people work, but also a magnet for community events. They have always put the needs and desires of their membership front and center. The idea is that C4 becomes what it needs to become. We’ve seen residents and members come and go. There have been an architect, casting agent, fashion designer, photographers, web designers, artists, non-profit organizations, filmmakers, public relation folks, authors, and a slew of miscellaneous entrepreneurs.

The community space has hosted graduation parties, film screenings, art openings, actor mixers, hobby groups, fashion shows, fundraisers, professional development seminars, and even the occasional game night. Oh, and who can forget the more adult-themed evening of the traveling Bike Porn film festival? That was pretty cool.

If San Antonio freelancers and those working in the arts and associated creative industries don’t know about C4 Workspace, I suspect that they are a minority. Todd and Debbie have amazed me on the comprehensive out-reach they’ve done to individuals, companies, organizations, and various institutions across the county.

But these are tough economic times. I’ve seen many a full-time and part-time C4 resident pack up and leave. True, I’ve heard Todd, on many occasions, explaining that he’s happy with the idea of a resident becoming so successful that his or her business has out-grown the space. But that’s not the case with most of those who’ve left. The common story is that the optimistic new entrepreneur or freelancer has come to the cold hard fact that this current economy is so stagnant he or she has to crawl back to that corporate world.

Self-employment can be a bitch. I certainly know this.

And, perhaps, some might shrug and place Todd and Debbie in the same category. Dreamers with unreasonable expectations. But the difference here is that they have opened their doors and their hearts to so many different communities here in San Antonio.

I know that the art community has benefited hugely from C4. All you painters, sculptures, filmmakers, photographers, dancers, actors, musicians, etc., who have enjoyed use of the space for free or at a deeply discounted rate, now is your time to give back.

And how many people have attended functions put on by community and activist groups? Chances are those event organizers enjoyed a wonderful sweetheart deal when it came to securing the venue. So, all you freaks, bohos, vegans, locavores, queers, greens, lefties, raw foodists, home brewers, and purveyors of bicycle-themed erotica, stand up and help out your pals at C4 Workspace in their moment of need. If the doors stay open, you know that those doors will always be open for you.

So, back to community. I’m at the point in my life where I’ve come to realize that I squander too much of my energy and time on helping self-centered narcissists realize their pathetic dreams (with me, it’s mostly providing assistance to aesthetically clueless individuals as they conspire to foist their puerile video projects on a generally innocent public — and I’m slowly forcing myself to say “no” when asked to come out and play … particularly when asked by those folks who I know damn well won’t come out and play when I ask).

So, I now say “fuck off” to all ego-driven projects. I only want to be involved with people who understand and respect the word “community.” Members of a community give. They might luckily find themselves in situations where others are giving to them, but the definition of community is all tied up in this notion of giving.

I willingly and happily give to several communities. I often help out fellow filmmakers. And then there’s the larger art and cultural community. I sit on boards and do committee work as a volunteer for several organizations. And I honestly can’t count the number of times I’ve volunteered my video and audio services to arts and cultural organizations. When educators I know need my help, I’m there. If my neighbors and friends need anything from me, I ask no probing questions — just a prefatory “where” and “what” and “when.”

I would like to think that most of my friends and colleagues are similarly inclined. So, I implore those who are reading this, please give to C4 Workspace. First, head over and check out the website to get a better understanding of who they are and what they do. Hell, who we are and what we do.

Click over to www.c4workspace.com

You can help one or more ways.

Make a donation on their website. (I did earlier this evening. It was quick and painless, and I feel the better for doing so.)

Attend one or all of the up-coming fund-raising events. The first one will be food, drinks, and burlesque (’cause everyone loves burlesque, no matter what they say) — this will happen Saturday, Jan. 22nd, at C4 Workspace. 8 – 11 pm. Ten bucks gets you a great evening! Start your community action day by attending the SA2020 meeting, and end it with sweet decadence at C4. You can keep up with these cool events by connecting with the C4 Workspace FaceBook page.

And, perhaps, most importantly, help C4 continue and sustain it’s great work by becoming a member. Or become a resident. The website will explain what this entails.

This concludes my PSA.

(A blog I wrote last weekend but did not get around to posting until THIS weekend.)

What a weird and wonderful day. And I can only write about it by hitting the Tecate and blasting, post-midnight, Royal Trux’s post-junky punchy and punky shoe-gazer brilliant bullshit.

My Saturday started early — for me. I got up at 7:45 because I knew my alarm clock was going to wake me up at 8:00. I reset it for 9. But, fuck, I couldn’t get back to sleep. So I obviously freaked out a few people by answering their emails at an unreasonably early hour.

I made it to my office at C4 Workspace right at 9:30. That was when I was supposed to meet with Seme Jatib. I almost tarried at home to, you know, make coffee, maybe breakfast. I mean, Seme’s often late. But, maybe she’d be on time today. And so, yes, she was. I was shocked. Seme has the same disregard for the early morning as do I. But the moment I pulled up to C4, she was doing the same.

Seme wants to make a dance film for the upcoming neighborhood film contest. She’s keen on the murals on the westside.

We visited a few of the murals. She zeroed in on a couple. Her concepts are pretty cool. I think she has a great approach. We had breakfast at Taqueria El Chilaquil on Commence and then rushed off to URBAN-15.

Because I had shot some of my Jump-Start Performance Party film at URBAN-15, I needed to pay them back. So, my Saturday afternoon job was to sit at the studio while a production company held an audition.

Well, to call these folks a production company would be akin to calling the participants of the Wednesday Night Darts League “athletes.”

Nothing to see here folks. Just another future train wreck slated to flounder all over YouTube in the weeks or months ahead. I have zero patience for those who refuse to pay their dues; learn the craft; remove head from asshole long enough to find out what’s happening in the arts and cultural communities in this very creative and exciting and fucking friendly city. Ah, but some folks just can help but be pulled to the heady and spicy aromas of the amateur hour circle jerk.

(Once I get my WTF Film Festival up and running, I’ll start the groundwork on my cable access show: Amateur Hour Circle Jerk.)

As the small crew was setting up for their audition, I talked some more to Seme about what she wanted to do for her film. (I was heartened to be speaking with a true artist, while, elsewhere in the building, others were floundering about on a doomed-in-utero project, absolutely devoid of one scintilla of aesthetic sensibility — such as is my educated prognostication.)

Eventually Seme left. I ignored the auditions going on and worked some on codifying the numbers from the Luminaria Media Arts Committee meeting. I fielded several phone calls … such as three people calling to give me three different — and divergent — insights into this new San Antonio Film Society. My assessment? Though I haven’t officially been asked for my input: 1.) absolutely, keep Joy-Marie Scott as the head of this nascent organization; 2.) make sure that the organization’s operational space, meetings, and screenings happen in the downtown region, because art fucking does not happen on the north side; and 3.) under no circumstance, make a serious press-release concerning the organization until the structure and leadership has been established, vetted, and legally incorporated — we don’t need this potently wonderful organization prematurely exposing itself in the shameful manner we’ve come to expect from the San Antonio Film District and the San Antonio Film Council. We, the serious members of the San Antonio film communities, have pissed away enough of our time apologizing for the peddlers of snake oil who run such organizations as those. Let’s all move away from those pariahs.

So, I hope those individuals and organizations coming forward to support the San Antonio Film Society understand that this is something new and good. I’m thrilled to see Joy-Marie Scott, with her clear vision and impeccable credentials, pushing to finally help us put San Antonio on the film production map. So, all you folks in San Antonio who produce, shoot, edit, act, develop, distribute, etc., please oh please don’t fuck this up because of your god damn ego or intrinsic lameness. Join and be humble and be honest.

But, um, I degrees. What was I saying?

Oh, right. URBAN-15. Studio-sitting. Phone calls.

I had already turned in my DVD for the Jump-Start Performance Party the previous night. But I wanted to know if the disk was able to play on their system. I tried calling Billy Munez — among other things, he often runs the Jump-Start light / sound / media booth. He told me he was in the middle of rehearsal. He’d try to call me back. Fair enough.

And then I received a call from Victor Payan. We had several things to talk about. Luminaria; Jump-Start-Performance Party; San Antonio Film Society — we are currently connected on several levels.

Just before he ended the call he asked if I would be willing to serve as an actor in the Aztec Gold TV segment he was providing for the Jump-Start party. It was a live performance piece, and, I should add, to be staged that very night! I could hardly say no. I mean, I’d suggested that Jump-Start invite Aztec Gold. (Well, the truth is, the Jump-Start people are no fools. Of course they wanted Aztec Gold.)

Anyway, Victor, as he was winding down the conversation, was pretty much telling me how the skit would play out. “It’s basically the Dating Game, Aztec Gold-style. JoEl Settles and Gabe the Babe will be the over-the-top skirt-chasing bachelors numbers 1 and 2. You’ll be the sensible and sedate bachelor number 3.” At this point I’m sure I was saying something like: “Um, well, now, I’m not sure that–” And Victor jumped in with: “Your character will, of course, get the girl.”

The bottom line is that I can’t act. But because something weird has happened to me over the years, I said: sure, why not? The weirdness is that my youthful paralytic fear of expressing myself in front of crowds has, over the decades, inexplicably evaporated. What would have paralyzed me in my teens and early twenties is nothing now. Well, the fact is, in my thirties is was still pretty damn painful. But in the last five years I’ve been interviewed on two local live television shows; one TV remote interview; I’ve thrice sat on the SA Film Commission’s Film Forum panel; I sat on the Jump-Start stage with Seme as we talked about a collaborative work during a WIP performance; I took the stage three times at Luminaria 2010 in front of thousands of people to speak of films I was involved in; I took to the stage for the Aztec Gold performance of the Rudos y Technicos event at Gallista Gallery to play an improvisational role; and tonight I took to the stage at Jump-Start to do a bit of improv in front of about 200 people. The strange thing is that everyone else seemed to be nervous. But not me. I will say that Gabe, JoEl, and Victor, each nervous in his own way, did such amazing work. My performance was smaller and more basic. (Honestly, it was quite lame.) But it didn’t bother me. And I will not apologize for my poor performance. I’m feeling weird because, good or bad, I did my performance without single twinge of nervousness.

The best thing that came from that fun bit of controlled impromptu silliness was that the person chosen from the audience to be part of this fake dating show was Victoria Garcia. This was pre-decided because we knew Victoria would be in attendance, and she’s a friendly and adventurous type. The fact is, anyone who’s ever met Victoria knows what a heart-achingly beautiful and appealing woman she is. And, clearly, this is the closest I’ll ever be to getting a date with her — during a silly staged skit. But it was all great fun, and I’m happy that somehow, over the years, I managed to get over my paralytic neurosis towards public speaking and the et cetera that that entails.

Here’s a rough edit of what Pocha shot for Aztec Gold:

And here’s link to the Jump-Start blog page where you can watch all three hours (!) of the great Performance Party XXVI.

http://jump-start.org/2011/01/09/performance-party-xxvi-video-archive/

Please, don’t everyone at once rush me for autographs….

Thursday.

I had fun today. It’s always a good thing when you can fill your day with wonderful people.

I started off with a shoot for my video piece I’m working on for the up-coming Jump-Start Performance Party. It’ll be next week, Jan. 8th.

This is a short promo for a fake reality TV show along the lines of “So You Think You Can Dance?” This is titled: “So You Think Your Schick Don’t Stink?”

I wanted two people to dance very badly, and one very well. I knew I wanted Mia. A ten year-old Flamenco prodigy. She’s adorable, insanely accomplished, committed to dance, and still has a playful sense of humor. She was definitely game.

And then ST Shimi agreed to do some half-hearted hoop-dancing. I’d mentioned something about how maybe she’d be hooping and so bored she was texting on her phone. She did that and went further, pulling out a magazine and flipping through it as she did her phony dance audition. I really enjoy working with Shimi–she’s brainy, beautiful, and an all-around solid talent in so many fields, such as dance, theater, performance arts, and, I’m certain, others I’m not yet aware of.

And the third of our dancers — in this case a “dancer” — the incredible Marisela Barrera. I have been in awe of Marisela for years. She’s an amazing actor, performance artist, writer, and theater director. She’s also done great work as the head of the Main Plaza Conservancy — he has managed to bring so much music, dance, art, etc. into the heart of downtown San Antonio. And only because I’d shared a stage with her for the Rudos y Tecnicos event did I feel comfortable to ask her to help out on one of my silly projects. I was honored when she said yes. And, really, I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d come prepared with an entire realized bit. She did this interpretive “dance” performance where she essentially made love to her accordion as Nortec Collective’s Tijuana Sound Machine played. She was perfectly spay, klutzy, and all the while damn sexy. We were all more than a little amazed.

I feel so very lucky that artists such as Shimi and Marisela, whose work I’ve respected for so many years, have found time to work with me.

I’m also indebted to the actors who came to play my panel of dance show judges. Rosalinda is someone I’ve worked with almost since I came to San Antonio. I adore Rosalinda. My personal personal bias of friendship aside, she’s a solid and dependable actor. I have never seen her drop a line. She always understands every character I’ve ever seen her play. And she’s great with improv. It’s great to work with her again.

Gabe the Babe is an interesting guy. He’s a wrestler, professional mascot, DJ, actor, and I’m sure there are a few other things he does. I know him from his wrestling work. And I also know him as an actor–he’s done work in some of Carlos Pina films. Actually, I’d wanted Carlos to be in this project as an actor, but he suddenly found himself with family obligations down in the Rio Grande Valley. I knew that Gabe could give me a lot of what Carlos does so well. Solid physical acting, natural improvisational skills, and no problem looking like a fool. Carlos, as an actor, also brings some other important skills. Quick memorization of lines. And, damn, he’s always in the same place and stance from one take or one camera placement to another. Editing Carlos is a snap. So, though I was sad to see Carlos unavailable, I was glad that Gabe could come and help out. Today he did some wonderful and solid work.

And then we had Veronica. She’s a filmmaker, not an actor. But she’s Mia’s mom, so I knew she’d be on set. And I love her look — she’s a gorgeous woman. So I told her that she would be playing the role of the only sane person on the panel. So it was all reaction shots to the nonsense spouted by the others. And she did great.

It was a good day of shooting.

We were at the Radius Center. And Frank, who over-sees the space was so helpful in letting us do our scenes in the space. (Now I know that Frank does loads of other things, but I mostly know him as the Radius go-to guy. Frank brought me up to speed on some deliciously tasty chisma concerning an individual who we both know. Lawyers are involved, so I won’t go into it here. But I know I will soon bring much of the information — somewhat massaged — into a piece of short fiction. It’s a hell of a story.)

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After the shoot, Shimi and I headed over to Luke’s, a new downtown eatery. Marisela had said their happy hour was worth a try. Marisela had left before Shimi arrived. So, Shimi wanted not only some eats and drinks, she also wanted to catch up with Mari.

When Shimi and I were walking towards the restaurant, we saw Marisela walking down the sidewalk. She’d already had some food and drinks, but we talked her into heading back with us to Luke’s.

We sat at the bar. I got the shrimp cup, which had a goodly portion of pan-fried shrimp, which was just slightly crunchy, covered with a delicious sauce of mayonnaise and chili power.

We had a blast. Time just melted away. I blame those tasty Belgium beers. When I finally looked at my watch, I realized I’d better scramble to make it to C4 Workspace for the second and final night of the Luminaria Media Arts proposal vetting. So, I dropped Shimi off at her Southtown home, stopped at my place to pick up my video projector, and made it to C4 ten minutes late. But because this is San Antonio, I was the first person there. I pulled down the screen, hooked up my projector and laptop and speakers, and set some chairs up.

Soon all the folks slated for the evening had shown up. We had a good time exchanging spirited comments about the various proposals. It was much like the other group last night. There were some who were strongly advocating for certain artists, as well as some who were rather dubious that a certain artist or production team could truly produce a piece of art which the film and media arts communities could be proud of.

(Parenthetic rant — feel free to skip to the next paragraph. I often find myself talking to folks in San Antonio who make movies or who want to make movies. And I tell them that movies aren’t art. They rail and bitch and moan that the Office of Cultural Affairs as well as various arts organizations — local and otherwise — aren’t bending knees in a besotted orgy of throwing money at filmmakers. Boo fucking hoo. Yes, there are scads of artists making wonderful films, and other less easily defined time-based visual works, but just because you have an HD camcorder and a horny desire to emulate a sit-com, an action film, or the latest YouTube meme doesn’t make you an artist. No. You just want to get paid chingos of money to make shit. Fine. I’ve met stand-up folks who work in the mainstream entertainment industry. Most know that they are whores. They’re not wanting to be called artists. So, unless you want people to wet themselves or laugh milk out there nostrils, please, give some deep consideration before wrapping yourself in the banner of “Art.”)

I’m back,

The last two nights were rather enjoyable. True, I wish we had more strong and exciting media art proposals for Luminaria; but I was able to spend time with people who I respect and whose company I enjoy. Victor and I wrangled a good group for our committee.

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Friday.

I was lying in bed late this morning, curled up with my laptop, watching “Exit Through the Gift Shop” off Netflix streaming. I was also trying to figure out how to shape my day. I knew I needed to do laundry. And that was about it.

And then the phone rang. It was Deborah. She wanted to know if I was interested in joining her for breakfast. She called at 11:30. This should say something about the both of us. I said, yes. It was clearly time for breakfast. Besides, I never say no to Deborah. She said she was on the newly opened stretch of the river walk. It passes about two hundred feet from her new apartment. And the extended river walk passes very close to Eva’s Cafe, one of Deborah’s favorite south side eateries.

I paused the movie. Jumped in the shower. And soon I was enjoying a great cup of coffee and Deborah’s company. I must say that the food at Eva’s has never disappointed, but still, it’s nothing too extraordinary; however, today’s chilaquiles plate was fucking sublime.

We caught up on what we’d been doing during the holidays.

Afterwards, I drove her to her studio. Before she got out I asked what she was doing for New Years Eve. Last year we’d gone to watch the fireworks in HemisFair Park. It was so wonderful. And then we went to Ric Ron’s (a 24 hour dive of a cafe where everyone’s quite nice), and we each had our first cheese enchiladas of the new year. It was a warm and wonderful memory. But, no, this year she had her own plans with other people.

We can’t always have what we want.

So I went home and did a load of laundry.

I decided to go downtown for the early part of new years eve. URBAN-15 was opening the festivities — a free night of entertainment. South Alamo Street between Durango and Market Street was closed off. There were, I believe, four stages in the area. There were carny rides, food and drink vendors, and entertainment all over the place.

I drove to C4 to get a closer parking space. I could have walked from hem, but this saved me about 15 minutes. I got to the stage under the HemisFair arch just as URBAN-15 was being announced.

I shot some stills and some video. But with this new 7D, I’m still getting used to what it can do. I was downtown for about three hours shooting stills and some video. But it wasn’t until the final 20 minutes that I realized I had my ISO set at 100. No wonder the low light was pissing me off.

It was a great vibe. Lots of families. There was a family on the South Alamo Street bridge between Market and Commerce. The dad was holding the camera and telling the three little kids, his wife, and what looked like two grandparents to squeeze in. And then he stopped, and peered around his camera. “Could we get rid of the Bud Lite?” The camera guy’s wife turned to the middle-aged man beside her. “Ay, Raul! Hide your beer!”

Oh, and there was another sweet moment which was so San Antonio. An older Mexicano couple (maybe on their young sixties) were near the main stage. The old guy had a nice DSLR camera. He held it up and pointed the lens at two Muslim women. One was maybe in her 50s or 60s. The other was about 30. “Hey,” said the man with the camera. “Smile!” The two women turned around. They both had their heads covered with tightly wrapped scarfs. And they also had the lower portion of their faces covered by another scarf.

So, they saw these two smiling aging Hispanics, one with a camera. What the hell. They posed, arms over shoulders, hugging in tight. I assumed they were mother and daughter.

I heard a click. The guy with the camera took his shot. His wife was thanking the women and reaching for the camera. But, no. Camera man said to the women, “I didn’t see you smile. Let’s do another.” The women were still engaged, laughing. The older woman was not going to expose her mouth. But the younger woman had no problem. She pulled the veil down and gave a big broad smile. She even noticed me, standing off to the side, grinning and laughing, and she laughed along with me. Picture taken. Everyone happy. I love this innocence here in San Antonio. It’s beautiful. When I hear people here being snarky or sarcastic, I just walk away, They are not what San Antonio is about. We’re about inclusiveness. Warm honesty. The real and honest people of San Antonio will ask to take your picture because you don’t look like anyone they’ve ever seen before. And that’s weird and wonderful and exciting. They haven’t started judging you, because they don’t know you yet.

I walked over to the Alamo. Checked out the Arneson River Theater. And I walked over to La Villita and the stage there. There was also a stage at the Convention Center. I stopped at the DJ area where Gabriel Velasquez was spinning discs. Ramon Vasquez was also there. He and Gabe are good friends. And Ramon’s mother, Gloria, was also there. I like Gloria. She’s smart, brave, and has a disarming sense of humor.

Here’s a photo of the Monkey Maze.

After a couple hours I headed back to C4. I realized I needed to hit the grocery store — if it was still open. So I got in my truck and made a run to my La Fiesta on S. Floras. Yep, they were still open. After getting some of life’s staples (corn tortillas, homey, grapefruit juice, yams, onions, chilies, eggs, and a bunch of those huge cans of Foster’s beer) I headed home.

And so now I’m back home. The laundry’s down. I’ve cleaned up the more obvious typos of this blog which was written yesterday. And at this very moment I’m listening to my Blip.FM channel — “John E. Smokes” by the Butthole Surfers. And so, yes, I’m alone, drinking, and feeling sorry for myself.

It is currently 11:41 in the pm.

Actually, I don’t so much feel sorry for myself, as I wish I had one of the shrimp cups from Luke’s.

And then I think, wait, I just came from the grocery store. I haven’t yet stowed away all my purchases. But, the question is, did I buy anything worth eating?

I think I’ll have another beer and give it some thought.

Happy New Year, everyone. See you all on the other side. 2011 is gonna kick ass!

Tuesday.

I was in Dallas last week working at the auction house. Made some serious scratch, enough to survive another month. I’m hoping I can get back in early January and put in another week or two.

One of the very few nice things about driving I-35 between San Antonio and Dallas is the 45 minutes or so when the Austin college radio station comes in clear. This is where I first heard Joanna Newsom several years back. And driving back Sunday night, during some world music show, I heard two songs by bands I feel a need to follow. Choc Quib Town, from Colombia. A nice smooth afro latino hip hop song called “San Antonio.” And then there was Dr. Israel. Rasta dub jungle. I forget the song. But, back home, I got onto Blip.fm and came across this great track by Dr. Israel. “The Doctor Vs. the Wizard.” It’s got that old jungle drum and bass beat. A nice slice of Jamaican dub reggae, circa Lee “Scratch” Perry. And the guitar power chords and the vocal stylings are pure Black Sabbath. If you find the thought of Tony Iommi joining a drum and bass outfit intriguing, here’s your chance to check it out.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVCSvK0qes0&fs=1&hl=en_US]

These punctuated gigs in Dallas help to subsidize all the volunteer and pro bono work I do. This auction house work is an amazing opportunity, but I don’t know how long it will last. This new year I plan on cutting down on the volunteer stuff and freebies for others. I want to put most of my energy into work I can be proud of–my projects, as well as those collaborative projects with artists who inspire me.

The truth is, I could have stayed in Dallas for several more days. But I left because of several commitments. None of which pay … however these are projects I’m looking forward to.

First is the judging for the Luminaria media proposals. Victor and I are bringing our committee together Wednesday and Thursday at a super secret location (my office at C4 Workspace) to make some decisions … to cut some lame critters from the herd.

And then there’s my video piece for the 26th Annual Jump-Start Performance Party.

Back in January of 2010 I was asked to take part. As a huge fan and booster of Jump-Start Performance Company, I was very honored to be part of all these amazing talented people. And for this show on January 8th, 2011, I’m just as excited and honored to be part of the celebration.

The problem is that I might have come up with an overly ambitious concept. Oh, well. I’ll just put down my head and push onward. And just today I learned that my friend Carlos won’t be able to help out. He has family obligations down in the Rio Grande Valley. I hope everything works out well for his folks.

Rosalinda is on board. And Gabe the Babe. Amanda expressed interest. I hope her schedule can mesh. I think I’ve got ST Shimi to make a cameo.

Tonight I shot the scenes with Jay Pennington. He’s the fictional programing manager of Channel 26. He introduces the promos of the three fresh shows of the new season of Channel 26. Now I need to shoot those promos.

Jay did a great job. I wanted him to play it absolutely straight. And also with a homey laconic delivery. He was perfect. And because he’d heard of my appreciation of Fat Freddy’s Cat (from the great comic book series, The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers), he brought along a copy of a Fat Freddy’s Cat paperback signed by the artist, Gilbert Shelton. Shelton had drawn an original Fat Freddy’s Cat under his signature. Pretty cool.

I also need to get some footage of Shimi in the can. We’re working on a collaborative dance film project.

And, best case scenario, it’s back to Dallas, January 10th.

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I’ve been having fun playing around with my Canon 7D.

Because it shoots in several frame rates (like other DSLRs) it’s well suited for slow motion. The 60 frames per second setting is the highest. When you shoot thusly, you import the media and drop it into a timeline on your editing software set up for, say, 24 fps. And suddenly you have true slow motion. It’s smooth and beautiful, and not choppy like when you just slow down normal video.

The truth is, it’s not that simple a procedure, but I found a great tutorial video on Philip Bloom’s website. He makes it seem easy.

And tonight, while shooting with Jay Pennington, I plugged my 7D into my computer so as to have a larger monitor screen than the camera itself can provide. This is very convenient. The inconvenient thing was that the 7D does shit with an externally introduced audio source. True, I knew this when I bought the camera. But it wasn’t until I did a simple test of plugging in one of my wireless lavs, doing an audio test, and then importing the material into FCP ad listening to audio and looking at the wave forms. Absolutely unacceptable for dialogue. I knew that even if I had used my pre-mixer, it wouldn’t have been much help.

So, I ended up using a mDV camera as an audio recorder. I hope to be able to afford a decent solid state audio recorder in the next few weeks.

But, image-wise, the camera is great. I love how it performs … especially with a very fast lens.

Here’s a screen grab of Jay.

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Wednesday.

I was hanging out with some film folks tonight. Victor and I met with three fifths of our media arts committee tonight (tomorrow, the other two will meet with us). We went over the 30ish Luminaria proposals in the media category. They ranged from the borderline brilliant to the proto-naif.

The vetting process continues.

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I took some time this afternoon to walk along the southern extension of the river walk. I’ve been down it before, but only recently has it become officially open to the public. I’d been scofflawing my way down the trail in the past.

The truth is, it’s not really open. You can take the trail from Lone Star Blvd. all the way down to about a hundred yards shy of the Mission Road bridge. Now there’s already a bike / jogging trail which begins at Mission Road and the San Antonio River. They really need to link these two trails together before “opening” this new trail, which, currently, just dead-ends.

One of the sad sights was seeing Anne Wallace’s lovely low-key art installation on the footbridge at this dead end. It’s really rather fucked up. The piece features imprints of flora and fauna in the cement of the bridge itself, as well as ornamental stone work on both sides of the bridge. But because of all the heavy earth-moving equipment crossing over this little footbridge, there are unsightly cracks running through her imprints. I sure hope someone fixes this.

Here’s a couple more photos from my little excursion.

Well it’s on the far side of midnight, and I have a shoot tomorrow. So it’s off to bed.

I headed to HemisFair Park Monday afternoon for a Luminaria meeting. I crossed paths with Barbara Renaud Gonzalez–she was dropping off some support material for a Luminaria proposal. A day with Barbara in it is always a winner.

The Luminaria meeting seemed a bit rushed. Probably because we had decided to adjourn to the bar at the top of the Tower of the Americas for Happy Hour. Monday, December 13th, was an important date for this upcoming Luminaria 2011. It was the deadline for artist submissions. When we met, we knew that there would still be more submissions to come, because artists could add stuff online until midnight. But, still, we all seemed happy that the numbers were healthy. And I, for one, was happy with the quality of submissions within the media division. It will be hard for the media committee to make its decision. We’re going lean this year. Quality over quantity. This is fine by me. There are filmmakers I know and whose work I even like, but when I tell them that Luminaria is the time when they can experiment, stretch their wings. You know. Make art. And then I get something uninspired and safe…? What the hell? It’s Luminaria ARTS Night in San Antonio, folks. Art? Yeah! Check out Guy Madden. Maya Deren. Jodorowsky. Matthew Barney. Bill Viola. Sally Potter. Karl Krogstad. Barbara Hammer. There’s a shitload of stuff out there. Get outta the multiplexes, people, and soak up the weird and wonderful!

I will say, it was fun hanging out with cool artsy folks 550 feet above the historic HemisFair Park, atop O’Neil Ford’s iconic phallic churro.

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I enjoyed something of a windfall. Money came my way. I probably should have used it to pay bills. Get a medical check-up. Put something in savings. But I pissed it all away on movie-making equipment. I’ve been wrestling with some important life questions. Like, do I really want to make films? There has been no financial gain in the years I’ve claimed to be doing this sort of stuff. I get little scraps here and there. But mostly I have to scramble, looking to other sources. But, hell, I went and did it. I hopped online and asked, not Santa, but B&H and Amazon, for a new camera, computer, some pricey software, and the pesky miscellanies that this sort of work necessitates. I’m embarrassed and not a little bit ashamed to say how much I’ve spent on this stuff. However, it will all be legitimate business expenses. I just hope I can figure how to make money off this stuff….

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So, there I was, back on Saturday night, at the Hindu Temple way the fuck out past Helotes. I’d been asked to video-tape this amazing young dancer. She is not of Indian heritage, but she loves the form and presentation of classical Indian dance. She gave a solo dance recital which lasted over two hours to a packed house of more than 600 people. I’ve seen her perform before, so I knew she was serious and very focused on her work. But I didn’t know just how amazing she was.

It was a paid gig for me, but I felt so very privileged to see her dance, especially to such a large audience of amazed and supportive members of the San Antonio Indian community.

My problem was that I was expected to appear as the “Minute Man” at the Rudos y Tecnicos show south of downtown between 7:30 an 8:00. And I had thought the recital would go 90 minutes, tops. It lasted two and a half hours. I really couldn’t complain. The performances were flawless, breathtaking. But I was quietly freaking out thinking that the Rodos y Tecnicos event was waiting for me to show up.

As I rushed back to downtown, I tried to call both Victor and Pocha, but they weren’t answering their phones. No surprise. They were almost certainly on stage. When I was getting onto I-10, Melissa Marlowe called me. She wanted to know my ETA. This meant that she was able to join the festivities. That was good to hear. She’s an awesome performer. I told her I was 30 minutes away.

When I got to Joe Lopez’s Gallista Gallery, the place was packed. I lugged in my tripod, camera case, and some costume & prop items.

Unfortunately the Minute Man piece had come and gone. Some other guy took my place. And even though I’m far from a ham, I was rather interested in giving it a shot. I’d worked up a basic routine in my head on the drive down. But I still found myself pushed onto the stage. I went out with Melissa Marlowe. She was the fictional head of the DRT (Daughters of the Republic of Texas (one of this town’s — hell, this state’s — more high-profile cadres of stuck-up sticky butts)). She burst on stage and pronounced to a densely packed room of chiefly chicanos that she was here to claim the building as a shrine to John Wayne, and everyone had better vamos. My role was as Queen DRT’s husband. So, with my straw hat and red, white, and blue sequined jacket, I shouted invectives at the crowd and hurled American flags at them.

In retrospect, I feel quite honored to have shared stage with Melissa. It was a blast!

The event was a huge success. I’m so happy for Victor and Pocha. I know they worked their asses off for this show.

Veronica’s multi-talented daughter, Mia, was there as an I.C.E. Elf. She made periodic forays into the audience with Migra Mouse (a guy wearing a huge Disney-esque papier mache head), in search of suspicious people to deport. Here’s a photo I took of her in the camouflage elf costume. You don’t want to mess with her.

And here’s a bit of hasty video I shot with my little Lumix from the side of the stage / ring. The one in the mask is the brilliant Mari Barrera.

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Tuesday night was the San Antonio Film Commission’s Holiday Party. I think I missed it last year because I was out of town. But other then that, I have made it a point to go every year. The local production scene is pretty fragmented and cliquish, but this is the one time of the year when we all come together in a neutral space and truly enjoy one another’s company (or at least pretend to).

The winners of the San Antonio 48 Hour Film Experience were announced (this is our local film contest put on by our film commission, not to be confused with the national organization of a similar name). I was one of the judges. And I was happy to note that the first, second, and third place winners were all in accordance with my scores. And that great film helmed by Pete Barnstrom not only won first place, but also won the “audience favorite award.” Just as it should have. A strong piece, playful and well structured. Also, because all the audio was done in post, you could actually hear what the people were saying.

My new Canon 7D had arrived earlier in the day. I got it to shoot HD video, sure, but I also plan to shoot stills with it. I took it with me to the party with the idea to learn how to use it.

It’s a hell of a camera. And, true, the cheaper Rebel does almost everything that the 7D does, But I have to say I love the heft of the magnesium alloy body. (The following day I was showing the camera to Deborah. She picked it up. “Oh, a real camera,” she said, commenting, I have to assume, on the weight. And, really, this needs to be in the advertising. “And the girls just love the heavy and rugged magnesium alloy body!”) I still like my little Lumix GH1, but the 7D can be cranked up to insanely high ISO settings with no apparent visual noise. Add to that the 50mm lens I bought which, at f1.4, is pretty damn fast, and you can do so much in very low light conditions.

Here’s the thing, though. This fast lens with a very wide aperture is appealing for shooting still or moving images because you can push a shallow depth of focus. When you put your subject into sharp focus, but everything else is soft or even very muddy, you are able to manipulate the audience, in essence, visually tell them what they should be looking at, what’s important. Of course, you don’t want to go overboard, where all the cool shit the location scout or the art department has provided has fallen into gauzy diffusion. This shallow depth of focal field is really just another tool to convey visual story-telling. Though with it, I feel like I’m getting back to the basics. I learned to shoot (stills and cinema) where the DOF was a genuine consideration. The old style of shooting movies on film is, in a way, returning. When running film through a movie camera you have some serious inflexible parameters. Your film speed is locked to the film stock you are using. You can push your ASA (ISO) in post, but you can’t switch, willy nilly, like a still camera with all it’s ISO settings. And the shutter speed is an absolute–it’s locked into the frame rate. So, there is just the one mechanical camera setting to worry about. The aperture. The problem is, an aesthetic-minded cinematographer doesn’t dick around with the aperture just to make sure the film isn’t over- or under-exposed. Nope. He or she uses the aperture to control what objects, in the frame, are in focus or out of focus. This is why lights, reflectors, and ND (neutral density) filters are so important when shooting movies on film. And now, with the rise of these DSLRs that shoot HD video make use of large sensors and allow for faster optics, it’s back to relying on filters–especially if shooting daytime exteriors. You might be tempted to crank up the shutter speed, but that’s going to take away from the filmic look you probably want (you know, where the action is somewhat blurred). Bring in the ND filters. Back to the basics. The old is new again.

I digress.

For the Film Commission party I was just shooting stills. It’s a new camera, and I mainly wanted to learn where all the settings were.

Here are some photos of the night. I particularly like the first one. It is, of course, Jessica Atzìtli Torres.

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I shouldn’t have stayed up so lateTuesday night, and I definitely shouldn’t have been drinking. I’d been invited by the Office of Cultural Affairs to attend a sort of professional development seminar about small businesses which was sponsored by the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce. Crack of dawn, Wednesday morning.

When I first received the invite, I noticed that it was sent to all the Creative Capital alumni. The registration costs would be covered for us CC folks, we were told. Like a scholarship. I felt so fucking special. But then I started seeing emails bouncing around, asking ANYONE to come and show up for this free event. Dammit! I want to be special!

The bottom line is that when OCA calls, I always respond. I like what it is they do. And, who knows, maybe if they see me often enough, one of my proposals will be taken up. I could happen. I also like the staff over at OCA. Good people.

But registration began at 7. In the morning. Fuck! Tuesday I’d called Deborah to see if she wanted to go with me. She thought she might be able to drag her way to my place even at such an unreasonably hour. I also was talking with Seme. She said she’d meet us as well. She was a bit taken aback by the early hour.

It was a weird foggy morning. Deborah rolled p to my house while I was sitting on my porch, playing around with my new camera. We got in my truck and drove the half mile to HemisFair Park. It took quite some time for us to find the section where the event was set–the Henry B. Gonzalez Convention Center is massive.

When Seme arrived, our little group moved to a balcony overlooking the plaza in front of the Tower of the Americas. Deborah, Seme, a textile artists (Lisa Kerpoe), and I chatted and enjoyed coffee and juice.

Much of the event was horribly dull. We suffered through a series of self-congratulatory speeches for breakfast (a sad “continental” affair of bagels and croissants), including a video speech by Gov. Rick Perry. Man, that guy’s sounding and looking more and more like Geo. W. Bush. (We, of course, are all doomed.)

The following breakout sessions allowed for three different tracks. Financial; marketing; media. Something like that. I chose media. I thought Seme was on the same page as me when she said that the media track seemed most likely to have crayons on the table. Maybe she was being facetious. She, Deborah, and many other artists went of to some other room. In the session I attended all we really got was a sort of Intro to Social Media 101. And then I remembered why I hate (HATE HATE HATE) when social media is used as a craven marketing tool. That’s when I defriend (unfriend?) people. In fact, that’s why I left Twitter. Too many people, shilling their shit.

After a quick break, we were given our next choice of sessions. I was drawn to another one on media. The title included the phrase “mobile media.” Sounded cool. I talked Seme into joining me. When we walked into the room, we saw Dora and Gisha in the back corner (this is where you should always sit in these environments, so as to make a quick exit if it’s too much bullshit), but the only seats were way up front. And so there we sat. The guy running this session was some sort of marketing director for a company which apparently owns the San Antonio Fox affiliate. Something like that. He was wearing this retro dark pinstripe sharkskin suit. It might have worked on someone hip. But he was more Herb Tarlek (of WKRP fame) than a guy from Mad Men. Actually, he reminded me of a cross between Rod Blagojevich and Rick Perry.

He started off asking what each of us did. Those of us who said “artist” seemed to confuse him. But he smiled affably and went on to the next.

When he really got into his talk, he said something like: “Television is still the central medium. And, local broadcast TV is the best place to get your name, your brand, out there.”

I turned to Seme. She was as confused as me. “How weird and exotic,” I whispered in her ear. “He’s straight out of the 20th century.” And when he began using, as an example of successful local TV advertising, the Ronco Pocket Fisherman, I knew the man was a time traveler from the 1980s.

One of the other people who had self-identified as an artist (and I had been watching his horrified expression as this Herb Tarlek fellow had been praising anachronistic marketing schemes while using Borsch-belt attempts at humor), made good his escape when Herb’s PowerPoint stalled. I envied him. And when I was trying to figure out how to also escape, Seme poked me in the ribs. “Let’s go!” she hissed. There was no longer any handy distraction. But she was adamant. I stood and we quickly walked to the door…so far away. Herb made some comment–“Oh, it looks like the artists are all leaving.” I wanted to turn and say loudly, “Is it any wonder?” But I just wanted out.

We ended up in another room where the panel was being led by Lionel Sosa. He’s a big time local Latino success story. But, really, I have a hard time not seeing him as another millionaire Republican who works in the fucking advertising / PR world. Oh well. He may well be the devil, but at least he’s a smart and charming speaker, and not trapped in the past.

The next (and final) segment was an endless series of more self-congratulatory wankery during the lunch session. But, hey, the lunch rocked. Some damn fine tamales!

Here’s a picture of Gisha. She was at one of the OCA tables, where we artists were hanging out.

The very end of the lunch session was devoted to the creative community. Chuck Ramirez’s sister gave a short but very moving speech about her brother. I think it was the only time during the whole event where someone spoke with depth and honesty. I do know that her words connected with me.

Because I was sitting up front and hadn’t turned around, I had no idea what the size of the crowd behind me was. Well, I knew it was huge when the luncheon began. But I was pretty sure that everyone who’d finished their lunch had hurried away. I mean, the event was advertised in the program to close with this praising of the San Antonio creative economy. I was pretty sure that the pro-business drones connected with the Hispanic Chamber of Commerce (and I direct the same ire at all Chambers of Commerce, and their bottom-dollar diplomacy) had already slipped out, now well-fed. And when Felix Padron, of the Office of Cultural Affairs, was asked to take the stage, I actually saw some of the VIPs who were sitting at the tables in front get up and walk out. Felix gave us a great speech. But when he ended it I finally got up the nerve to turn around and look at the now almost empty ballroom. Shit! He’d just been preaching to the choir, us artsy types.

Those bastards! I sat through so much of their circle-jerk business bullshit. But can they stay to the end, where the topic shifts, for just 20 minutes, to the arts? Hell no!

Oh, well. The tamales were pretty damn good.