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.

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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.”

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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.

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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…?

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….