A Dreamer Walking

FilmStruck – Cinema’s Love Letter

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on November 21, 2018

FilmStruck Closing

There is no streaming service that holds as strong of a punch in sheer knowledge of cinema’s rich history, as FilmStruck. Nothing comes close! And only two years after launch, it will be shutting down due to having too small of a “niche” audience. WHAT THE HELL?!?!

What sold me about FilmStruck is not just their ability to bring us wonderful material covering a variety of cultures and subject matters. Or their individual focus on the less represented genders or races in the cinema world. But on top of all that they were dedicated to diving deep into the filmmaking process by providing hundreds of hours of extra features on the making and impact of the films they championed.

Honestly I did not watch many films on FilmStruck. Maybe, two a month. Rather, after watching a film on a great artist I had just been introduced to, I would start to dive deep into the extra features. I would listen to interviews  of actors and crew members who were there when greats such as Yasujiro Ozu and Jean-Pierre Melville walked their sets. The movies these filmmakers were known for were cool to see, but FilmStruck wouldn’t settle with the greatest hits of any given artist, they would dive deep into a filmmaker’s career. Long forgotten films would be highlighted by the site. Many of the films on FilmStruck can not be found on other platforms or in even in physical copy.

Why does a service like this get so little attention? Why does a multi billion dollar company think preserving these types of films is not important? Studying classic and foreign films has been a lonely venture for me. Though I spent many years going to school for media arts, I could hardly get any of my peers interested in cinema’s rich history. There could be all sorts of critiques about why this is. Very few would be flattering. But this is not a post whining about people not being cultured enough to cherish rich storytelling over junk food “entertainment”. This is a plea, a cry to anyone out there willing to understand just how important standing up for artistic and culturistic preservation is to the betterment of society.

Netflix, Hulu, and HBO are wonderful services. I consider many of them like friends, sometimes providing a needed laugh while at times giving me something to think about. These services represent my peers and I hold a great amount of respect for how the they are driving our artform forward. Yet the artist’s highlighted on FilmStruck represent my teachers. I have spent countless hours taking notes on their unique structures, their beautiful images, and profound insights. This blog was built upon the kinds of revelations I have discovered on FilmStruck.  The great directors you see on the site, Kurosawa, Ford, and Bergman all have placed a brick on the great platform I stand on today. The filmmakers on all the other streaming services owe those highlighted on FilmStruck a great dept. This was driven home by the fact two dozen filmmakers, including Christopher Nolan, Ryan Johnson, Guillermo Del Toro, and Paul Thomas Anderson have posted a public letter pleading WarnerMedia to save the streaming service. Martin Scorsese and Steven Spielberg are also lending their voice to the fight.

We make a critical mistake to think art can last without our support. Time does not work that way. Without the needed resources and careful care, we will lose some of our most profound stories. With the end of FilmStruck there will be hundreds of movies you won’t be able to find streaming anywhere else, along with countless hours of informative interviews, behind the scenes documentaries, and commentaries. Thankfully Criterion, one of FilmStruck’s greatest collaborators, plans to start their own streaming service this coming spring. However, there is no guarantee it will be able to sustain itself any better than FilmStruck. The difference will be found in us. We simply need to decide if the cinema of our past and distant lands will be part of the forgotten or our teachers.

If you support FilmStruck’s efforts to preserve cinema, please sign and share this partition to #SaveFilmStruck. The more voices we have the harder it is it ignore us.

Alfred Hitchcock – An Observation – The Young Spunge

Posted in Film and Filmaker Studies, Observation Series, Personal Philosophy by Jacob on October 24, 2018

Young AlfredYes, believe it or not this is Alfred Hitchcock. Not the self confident and slightly cocky man you see in later years. Rather, a young man just starting to understand the numerous possibilities of his artform and his role to play in the medium.

Hitchcock started exploring cinema in the mid 1910’s, making title cards for the start of films. From there he went into script writing and art direction. Though he said in a Peter Bogdanovich interview he had no ambition for becoming a director, he displayed a great amount of talent for the job at an early age. Infact, one of the things that got him in trouble in his job as Art Director was this nasty habit for telling the cameraman where to place the camera on the sets he was working on.

The latest film on my list to study has been  The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog. This silent 1927 film is considered to be the first real “Hitchcock” film, though he had directed two before this point. The main reason, it was his first mystery film – the genre he would become most famous for directing. In this film you can see signs of everything to come. The amount of control he had over the young medium is breathtaking. You can see the influences clearly; his love for American’s dramatic pace, the Soviet Union’s use of montage, and German’s extreme use of light and camera placement.

What struck me the most when watching The Lodger is the fact that I could see such a deep connection the artist had with the material. Yes, influences abided throughout the film, yet each technique was being used for the purpose of getting deeper into the psychology of the characters. Nothing felt showy, because the extreme angles, imaginative framing, and exhaustive montages were constantly giving us insight about the characters and their world.

When one of the main characters observes a whole montage of images in a footprint in the snow, it’s not because Hitchcock was tickled by Sergei Eisenstein’s use of montage in Battleship Potemkin. Rather, Hitchcock wanted to visually show the thoughts that were connecting like dominoes in the character’s head. When we see a combination of dramatic lighting and extreme angles as the mother wakes up and creeps into her lodger’s bedroom, it’s not because Hitchcock was a die hard fan of  F.W. Murnau’s films, even though he was 😉 . He wanted to let us in on the mother’s startling suspicions that the lodger could very well be The London Strangler.

No artist simply comes out fully formed. They are always influenced by those around them. Hitchcock had some magnificent artist to inspire him during his day. Yet, the reason he became great himself was due to his ability to absorb his influences and make them his own. Today, I see a great amount of copying going around. I need to admit I don’t see much copying of the masters from the silent era, but rather I see copies of the most recent Youtube prodigy. To be inspired by someone in your medium is totally fine. However, when it comes to your storytelling, you can’t simply make decisions based off of those who inspire you.

The difference between copying and absorbing comes down to the question you are trying to answer. Copying has a very easy question to answer, “What?”. If you can figure out what someone did to create a shot you can copy it. As long as you have the equipment any complicated piece can be copied. And to be sure, great filmmakers such as Hitchcock found answers to what went into making their favorite shots. Yet, Hitchcock was also able to figure out the answer to the other question, the far more important question. “Why?”. Only if you discover the answer to the question of why, do you understand how to mold the technique to your personal storytelling.

Hitchcock never seemed to be stealing techniques from other filmmakers. Instead, he  found personal and profound reasons to apply them to his stories. We often come out of a Hitchcock movie believing there was no better ways to use the camera. Time after time The Lodger gives us profound insight into the passions, fears, and insecurities of the character’s we see on screen. The reason is because their passions, fears, and insecurities are even more important to Hitchcock than his shots. Once he knows the character’s inner most feelings does he understand why he needs to use the shots he uses. An insert of a hand reaching for a doorknob, a POV shot of someone walking toward a house, or a reflection of a man walking toward a painting, are all powerful expressions of the character’s inner most conflicts.

A sponge doesn’t simply hold water, it absorbs the liquid into it’s very being.  We all need to have inspirations, yet we must also have enough confidence in ourselves to let those inspirations further our personal development as artists. A mere copying of those around us will produce stale material, easily forgotten. Yet letting those inspirations build upon who we are, can produce magnificent pieces of work. Work, like that of Hitchcock’s The Lodger, that could be remembered far beyond our lifetime.

Put a Face on It

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on August 28, 2018

The only reason we have not been able to find value in “the other” is because we refuse to give them a face. How is that for a Thesis?!

Okay, I’ve learned things that make complete sense to me usually don’t make much sense to others. This is one of those things. I would write a thesis such as this and my mother (English major/teacher) would immediately inform me, people are regrettably unable to read my mind in order to connect the dots. So an explanation…

The first thing to interest me about participating in art was the human face. More specifically, the eye. In one of my first art classes the teacher proclaimed, “The hardest thing to draw is the human eye”. The reason? Because it’s the window to the soul. “When you look into someone’s eyes'”, my teacher explained, “you are in connection to their deepest self”. So I decided to study the human face. Specifically the eye. This drove my future teachers nuts. You are not supposed to start with the eye when doing portraiture. Long story short, when doing portraiture you are supposed to start with the outline of the head and face before going into any detail. So starting with a very detailed looking eye was a big “No, no”…

Oh well :/

Since the gauntlet was thrown, I have drawn hundreds and hundreds of portraits. I LOVED looking through magazines, such as National Geographic, and cutting out pictures of faces. I was able to study the faces of thousands upon thousands of people. They all were fascinating. I saw happiness. I saw love. I saw pain. I saw sorrow. Each face gave me insight about humanity. One of my subjects contained a stare so piercing I felt the need to replicate his eye so it’s sharpness could be seen no matter how close you got. Another contained a stare so outside this world I took out the iris altogether. And the last one, the final portrait I ever painted, was filled with a sadness no amount of deep blue could ever reach.

I am actually intimidated by the human face, often most comfortable studying it through a picture or a lens. I struggle to look directly at others, even those I love, because when my eyes connect to another I get lost. I feel I am being allowed into a holy place. Of course it flows away from just the eyes and is seen in every feature of the face. Each wrinkle gives insight. They can communicate a life of happiness or a life of struggle. The best show both. To be honest I am struggling to articulate what exactly it is I see in the face. In some ways I think it’s wrong for me to try.

The face is a mystery. A mystery that always reveals one thing. Humanity. When flipping through the faces of National Geographic I saw countless shades of humanity. We couldn’t possibly be able to explore every aspect of humanity because no human is capable of discovering the depth we glimpse when looking into the eyes of another. But the very fact we see “the other” is enough to assign value. And assigning values to “the other” is the only way we will be able to get out of the mess we are in today.

The Written Word

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on July 29, 2018

I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve started saying how I’m going to resurrect this thing. Heck, I even ended up posting a few updates where I naively proclaimed, “I’m Back!!!”. Yet compared to where I was in the golden day of blogging, averaging one to two blogs a week, I’m nowhere close. There are 101 unfinished drafts for this blog. What a waist of words! You must understand however, the goal never was to get popular and have the masses read my words. I’m not ashamed to admit blog popularity was never the goal.

Being open to public scrutiny was the main reason I published my work. I wanted to tie down the numerous ideas and philosophies I was researching about cinema.  A strong persuasive essay requires a clear thesis backed by research and in-depth perspective. And in the end you must be able to present, in a clear and potent way, a conclusion you believe in. In essence this blog was a testing device, to see just how much of the things I was researching were being digested. Not just so I knew them, but so I could express them to others in my future filmmaking career.

Writing was never something I felt led to do. And due to my dyslexia it’s always come at a huge mental and emotional cost. I think in pictures. Visual language is what has always come naturally to me. So needing express myself in code – where the ideas and philosophies are entangled in this complex network of the written word – has never felt satisfying. I always know I could say it better. Yet, the written word does have it’s positives. Compared to the messy nature of capturing images, writing allows me far more control over my narratives. Each word can have a precise meaning, so I can have more surgical control over the points I make. Needing to translate the images in my head into a different type of language is also very valuable. I even feel capable enough to write a screenplay, something even the greatest dyslexics in my profession, Steven Spielberg, Joe Wright, and Martin Scorsese, never had much confidence in.

The bottom line is I will always struggle to get each word out there. Especially in a way that makes everything come together. I just looked up to my top paragraph and am racking my brain on how to tie everything up, so what I started out saying can connect to the thoughts coming out of my head now. To be honest, this post is in dangerous territory of becoming number 102 of the forgotten drafts. But I am writing here and now to articulate how important I believe it is to continue with things you are not always comfortable doing. Learning in the way of the written word is healthy even for a dyslexic like me. Not because I think I will ever become the greatest writer. But rather, because writing still is a unique way of communicating; bringing insights and forcing discipline in a way I would not be able to through more natural formats.

Today I won’t say, “I’m back”. Writing on this blog could still be a “once in a blue moon” thing. But I am making the commitment to continue to throw those letters out there and force them into tangible words, and those words into tangible sentences. They may simply belong to the stories I am developing or scripts I’m writing. But, who knows, some of them may continue to end up on this site, exploring the ideas and philosophies of the visual medium I love so much. No matter where they go, this blog and those who support it, have been the reason I feel confident in any of my writings today. For that I am very thankful.

Is It Worth It?

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on April 19, 2018

640x640_11664732I sit here at 3:30 AM debating for one of the first times in my life, if my life goal of becoming a filmmaker is worth it. I hate to be dramatic, but it’s simply where I am.

Two years of my life has been devoted to a documentary about a place I love, a place I grew up in. It was my first job as an adult. I was given the task to care for the men of Paxson. Six men living in a group home whose value has been questioned throughout their lives. See, these men struggle in a ways we simply can’t imagine. Simple everyday tasks are mountains for them. The ability to walk, have conversation, or even stay awake are all tasks needed to be conquered each new day.

Their struggle was not the reason they deserved a documentary however. We need their story told because of the humanity they show through facing their struggles. The difference is key. Throughout my clients’ lives they’ve been defined by the disabilities they have. Schizophrenia, down syndrome, or cerebral palsy – it doesn’t matter. People simply take one look at them and shutter because they are different. Believe me, I know. I’ve gone on outings numerous times throughout the nine years of knowing them. It’s tragic how the crowd parts ways when we are walking through the store or on the fairgrounds. I see the stares. I see people hesitate to be near them. I hear the judgement when they are talked to. And, they feel these things, too.

All this is not to say I am angry at those who don’t understand my friends. It’s completely understandable. I was the same way until I got to know them. Yet, I know if people could just get past those first awkward moments they would see something amazing. I was actually willing to bet two years of my life and all my talents as a filmmaker on this fact. With the help of some good friends and the support of the special needs community, I set forth to tell their story. And let me tell you, it’s been a bumpy ride.

The most prominent problem has been lack of finances. I’ve actually lost about $500 dollars in the two year process. Until just recently I received no financial benefits. And as much as I can confidently state financial gain was never the reason for this project, I must admit the lack of it has made things extremely stressful. My University has been overly gracious to allow me to use their equipment through the years. Yet, as with all used equipment, it’s a task to get everything rented and upsetting to find things that don’t work. There is nothing more tragic in the mind of a filmmaker then to miss a event or a moment due to waiting periods or malfunctions.

Another factor I must admit to is the question of ego. Oh yes, we all wish we could simply say we are over being rattled by the opinions of others. Yet, artists most of all struggle with having the confidence in themselves to share their work with the world. I told my professor after my very first documentary short, Mary Rose, my next project would be a feature documentary. Two years later, if someone told me the same thing I would struggle not to laugh in their face. Insisting you have the capability to engage your audience for more than sixty minutes is no small statement. Let’s forget about the story, how could one with such little experience expect to accomplish such a feat? To be honest, I started out writing this because I don’t know if I can. I’ve hit the ditch numerous times through this two year process. The hundreds of hours of footage is drowning me. One of my greatest weaknesses, organization, has constantly been something I’ve needed to address. My communications skills, technical skills, and emotional strength have all been tested to the max. The struggle between having enough confidence to lift this project from the ground and the humility needed to hear criticism and get feedback, has not been a battle I’ve always won.

This brings me to my last big dilemma, the loneliness. Now, I do not want to be saying nobody else has been there for me. From the beginning, I have had family who supported me in this project and who have dealt with all kinds of insecurities from this young filmmaker. I have film buddies who have sacrificed countless hours assisting me with setting up shoots and filming. I have a handful of professors who meet me on a regular basis to go over edits, despite me not going to school anymore. And I have the clients and staff from the house, who have championed my cause and been humble enough the allow me to film them. Yet, the vast majority of my time on this project has been spent alone. I sit in a empty room from 4PM to 3AM working through each element of the footage I’ve captured. I am the assistant, the editor, and the director. And my process is labor intensive. I must sync the good audio, organize each interview, and subtitle every line of dialogue for the clients who struggle to be understood. I must be emotionally connected to the material, fighting to allow each voice to be heard, while also figuring out how to stay objective enough to have an accurate perspective over the whole. And, as of today I have not found those who are able be with me on some of the most perilous parts of the journey.

What I describe to you is the great dilemma of every artist. The battle of outside sources and inner conflicts. Each artist I have studied has dealt with these dilemmas in different ways; sometimes at great cost to their personal lives. I don’t know where I will land in the end. Not knowing if I have enough money, struggling to contain the ego, and dealing with the loneliness — all threaten my ability to finish this film.

And this is where I sit.

Then I remember the men of Paxson. They represent what all my struggle, talents, and drive is for. The only time the crushing weight lifts is when they become more important than my fragile ego, my mandatory woes, my sitting in this room alone. Tonight I can soak in my sorrows, but tomorrow I wake to fight for them. In this profession, the soul of the story is what makes each task worth it’s weight.

My Heart Stopped Beating

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on October 3, 2017

A year ago my heart stopped.

How many people can say that?! But it is true. On this day last year I had open heart surgery to repair a leaky valve and deal with a huge amount of excess liquid accumulating around my heart. I was in complete heart failure before the procedure. An operation that usually takes months to set up took less than a week for me. Fair to say this was one of the most definitive moments of my life.  Recovery was a long and tedious process. I still am on a good deal of medication. They even gave me several recommendations for mental health rehab. Many patients go into depression after their surgeries.

Of course, that wasn’t going to be me. I only had one concern before the operation. In order to deal with the concern I needed to go to the Big Guy. I needed to make a deal with God. I did not know why this was happening to me. Frankly, I did not feel any need to ask questions on why. What was happening was happening and I could deal with it. The only thing I needed was to live.

I know.  This procedure happens all the time. The doctor was one of the best in the country. The success rate was 98%. But, that 2% haunted me before the operation. I couldn’t get past it. The doctor wasn’t willing to tell me I was going to be alive after the procedure. And as much faith as I had in him, the 2% was constantly on my mind. This might sound foolish. Honestly I felt guilty for feeling so afraid. I mean, there are countless people who are much braver than I am with much worse odds.

I was frustrated this was an issue. I have talked more than once on this blog about feeling divinely lead to do what I do. My faith is a personal thing and I do not have any need for others to believe the same way I do. But if I were honest I would even need to tell my secular friends that my life has never felt completely my own. For most people dreams live by night and fade away by morning. For me, dreaming has always been more, a calling from someone who insists I bring them to reality. But a year ago, I was told, my heart could stop and might never beat again.

So the deal was, “let me live“. Let me live and I will double down on my devotion toward my dreams. I will tell my stories and impact this world.

You’ve probably noticed by now, but to settle any doubt, I am alive.

BOOM! I woke up after the 6 hour operation and still remember my joy in being alive. Sure it hurt. I literally threw up all through the next night (and if you want to experience pain just start dry-heaving after your chest has been ripped open). I won’t claim to have been the most grateful patient. But, all in all I knew I could handle everything that would follow. The support I had was unbelievable. My whole family was there, if not physically, in spirit. The greatest feeling in the world was holding my mother’s hand afterword. The worst was done and I knew the dreams I was given were still alive and God had faith in my ability to deliver.

The tragedy to this story is a year out I personally feel no closer to any of my dreams. Here I was so confident I would be able to handle anything I would need to face. Heck, a life event like the one I had has plenty of fodder for inspiration. Yet, again and again when reflecting on this past year, I only see failure. I dropped out of school. I ended up returning to my introverted tendencies and have fewer relationships with people than ever in my life. The Kickstarter I launched to get funding for a project I am passionate about, failed miserably. Even this blog feels like another failure. 9 months ago I claimed to be “Back” but since haven’t written anything worthy enough to post. For a little icing on the cake, just the other day the hard drive holding all my major projects simply stopped working and Geek Squad couldn’t transfer the files. Though I had a good amount backed up, I’ve already discovered countless hours of edits and some very personal footage is now gone (unless anyone wants to loan me $1,500 dollars ;).

Remember the depression I mentioned at the beginning of the post, the depression I felt so above before the operation, well I don’t feel so above it now.

A year ago my heart stopped. It started beating again and I have overcome the physical obstacles that were holding me back. But at the moment of writing this post I am struggling to find the dreams. Hell, I’m even struggling to find the words with which to conclude this post. My thoughts were if I get to the end of writing this God would give me the inspiration. Um… I’m waiting…

Being alive is something I can no longer take for granted. One of the unique things to happen after heart surgeries like mine is you feel your heart like never before. Every pace change and skipped beat is something I’m aware of. Maybe the mistake I made was thinking the operation I had was something to get over. I saw it as an obstacle, a task I needed to complete in order to move on to bigger and better things. Yet the scar on my chest will never leave me and I will never feel my heart beat the same.

 

The Frame – Restriction’s Power

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on May 20, 2017

blog exampleSo often I find what students of film think they need in order to make a good film are more resources. If only I could have the new GH5 camera to shoot slow motion. If only I had a drone to create scale. If only I had the after effects program to perfect my shot. Naively, we tend to believe more resources will allow us to make a better movie. Yet, in many ways I have found they do the exact opposite.

To understand where I am coming from you need to realize who my heroes of cinema are. Charlie Chaplin, Ingmar Bergman, and Akira Kurosawa are all filmmakers I aspire to. They created films even at the time of conception were considered far less technically advanced than the other films of their time. Yet, today they stand heads and shoulders over their peers. Chaplin’s lack of sound, Bergman’s square aspect ratio, and Kurosawa’s black and white pictures are not signs of weakness in their storytelling, but rather strength.

We forget the essence of cinema is found in restraint. Throughout it’s history we have needed to deal with the unrelenting constraints of the frame. And yet, it is in this very restraint we find an endless number of possibilities. The frame is what creates the possibility for the vast majority of language we have developed for cinema today. Without the frame there would be no shot. The shot represents the filmmakers canvas.  We need those four edges to go from a wide to a close-up. The difference between a character who resides on the edges of the frame compared to the middle is extremely significant. The frame allows us to focus the eye through blocking all but the most important aspects of the story, out.

Now there is a movement coming. VR (virtual reality) breaks from the “restraints” of the frame and allows the audience to look anywhere they please. This is not a post trying to bash on this new technology. Even Chaplin, Bergman, and Kurosawa started to explore the power of sound, widening the frame, and color. Infact, some of their greatest masterpieces came from these newer cinematic resources. Yet, understanding the value of their perceived limitations is what helped launch their storytelling into another stratosphere. These were artists who if they were not provided with a paint brush, they would bask in the joy of being able to use their hands.

Less resources force us to value the tools one has. I can say this is extremely true for my current career. I have never owned a camera, lead a large crew, or owned any complex editing/effects software. However, I do not consider myself or the people who work with me any less capable of creating great art.

The resources we have at our disposal will all be inadequate soon. Luckily nobody cares about the chisel Michelangelo used when carving David or the pen Shakespeare wrote with for Romeo and Juliet.  When we have unlimited resources we are allowed to avoid looking into ourselves; we can hide our shallowness behind bells and whistles. However, the greatest measurement of an artist’s worth will always be time and it is the soul of one’s art time will reveal.

 

Say Something!!!

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on December 18, 2016

The greatest mistake the educated make is believing our intellect produces meaning. By itself, intellect is empty. Infact, from my experience my intellect often tries to get in the way of meaning. Far too often what is valued the most is the way something is written or a painting rendered. We become so caught up on the ecstatics we neglect to see the shallowness of what is being said.

When it came to the visual arts, I was a natural talent. I was able to draw better than most in my class and I was fantastic at composing a shot. There are few who like talking composition or lighting more than me when it comes to filming. Honestly, a good portion of my blog is about speaking about brilliant compositions or ways artists apply the tools of their trade. If you look far enough back, you can see pieces of photography I did. I consider a good portion of them well done for my age and yet looking back on them they seem to be missing any kind of substance. They are simply pretty pictures I took strictly on a conceptual level.

When it came to writing, I was a hot mess. I’ve already explained it many times, but holy crap did I suck. There was no understanding of grammar, spelling, or structure. Even now there is no distinct style to the way I write. You can easily call my writing straightforward and at times… boring. However, my senior year of highschool I had a teacher who insisted my writing had a huge amount of potential. The reason had nothing to do with spelling or grammar. She simply told me she felt I had something worth saying.

Because I could not rely on my natural skill as a writer I was forced to find motivation through what I was writing. As a dyslexic I find writing to be emotionally, mentally, and at time even physically taxing. So there needed to be a purpose to every essay I forced my hands to type. And as you can see in this blog, I found a purpose. I was able to put writing in the place any medium of art belongs, strictly as a tool to express myself.

Our thoughts, ideas, and convictions are what art is really about. Who we are is what we must express to the world. When it comes to working with the camera it’s much harder for me to realize this notion. I make the mistake of thinking the way I choose to frame a picture or control the light is what makes my work stand out. And I’m not alone. I can’t tell you how excited my fellow peers get when they see a new camera or are able to use a new visual effect. Just look how many different types of materials Leonardo da Vinci experimented with. It’s only natural for the artist  to appreciate his instrument. Yet the goal can never be to create a piece in order to highlight the tool you are using. The goal to art is to say something; to create something which takes on a life of it’s own.

Nothing disguises meaninglessness more than a pretty picture. I was fooled by my own talent in the visual arts. Writings greatest gift to me could easily be the humbling experience of being bad. With every word I am forced to think about the actual reasons behind what is being said. In today’s world we have more powerful tools to express ourselves than ever before. Let us dare to say something with these tools.

 

I’m Back!!!

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on December 11, 2016

How to start…

I have been blogging for a long time. For those who once followed this blog, you might know the reason is due to the fact that I once used this as a testing device for my education. I wanted to study filmmaking and found traditional education lacking. There were many reasons for this, but the greatest reason was the education system didn’t know how to handle me very well… nor I it.

What I ended up doing was studying on my own. I chose to self educate and use this blog as a testing device. Though mostly due to my dyslexia I consider writing akin to stabbing oneself with a pencil a million times, my English Teacher of a mother taught me writing was also one of the best ways to test if you really understood a subject. In order to create a good essay you need to grab your audience’s attention with how you introduce your subject. You must be able to support your argument in the body of your essay. And in the end you must be to bring everything together and come to a conclusion worthy of an audience’s efforts in taking the time to read your piece.

Now I won’t argue I was good at any of this stuff when I first started (nor much better now…:/), however I was convinced I had a view worth exploring. And though this has never been the most popular blog, I consider the 270 entries I’ve so far written to be one of my greatest achievements. This blog represents my journey in understanding both the medium I love and my personal voice.

My journey however eventually took me in another direction. Instead of being stuck with the unnatural obligation of writing each week, I replaced the pen with a lens and began to actually put all my developped views to the test. I returned to college for the purpose of applying what I had already learned. In the process I made the discovery that learning should never have an end. I am proud of the connections I’ve made in college and consider many students and professors critical to furthering my education. Yet the journey to actually producing my own material in the medium I love, has begun. And I’ve given myself little time to write about it.

This is where this specific blog entry comes in. I wanted to acknowledge I’ve been gone for a while and avoided an aspect of my education I consider to be more difficult. My plan is to start writing consistently again. Honestly, I’ve tried to write many things the last few months, but as you can see they haven’t been able to make it to the finish line yet. There is a curtain excitement that comes with hitting the “publish” button. It’s that idea you consider your work worthy enough to be experienced and scrutinized over. I can not promise to create the kind of material I was at the hight of my writing career (if I had one of those ;), but the bottom line is I want to start to test myself in this way again.

Writing is a beautiful artform. It has helped me in so many ways become a better filmmaker. Through writing I’ve discovered my identity as an artist and a human being. My hope is I can continue to discover new things about myself and filmmaking through the continuation of this blog…and maybe even give you something worth thinking about.

Thoughts from Tarkovsky – Static Passion

Posted in Personal Philosophy by Jacob on August 9, 2016

For me the most interesting characters are outwardly static, but inwardly charged with energy by an overriding passion.” – Andrei Tarkovsky’s Sculpting in Time

Imagine if we understood this? Though Andrei is referring to characters in this quote, I believe the principle applies to all filmmaking. So often we think filmmaking is about grand scale, flashy camerawork, and extravagant characters. The reason students never think they have enough money for their films is because they have bought into this idea that in order to make a good film you need to go, “BIG”. There is so much concentration on the need for outward excess we forget about the power of the inner battle. Many of my peers have the right message. They want to says something unique. Yet instead of finding confidence in their personal story they get distracted by the fact they don’t have enough; whether it be the right camera, the right crew, or the best locations.

We are taught the active camera gives way to the active emotion, yet the opposite can just as easily apply. And believe me, the best storytellers know this. All the way back to the silent era there have been filmmakers who knew just how powerful holding a static shot could be. If you don’t believe me, just watch the last five minutes of City Lights (1931) or when Joan is put on trial in The Passion of Joan of Arc (1928). In these movies you found storytellers who trusted the audience to stay attentive and find the inner emotion themselves.

I can’t resist compare this surface level storytelling we see today with all that is wrong with politics. What is going on outside is what gets the most attention. We have politicians on the left and the right who almost shout the “truth” at us. They think if they yell loud enough and with enough enthusiasm we will start to believe their “authenticity”. Yet our society has sensed a insincerity; a disconnect between the outward message and the inward action. When the audience senses a disconnect it does not matter how polished the outward seems, we will not buy into the story they are telling.

When I think about it the vast majority of my favorite scenes in cinema have little to do with scale or polish. Instead, what makes me want to tell stories for a living comes from the powerful feelings I had when seeing a group of students stand on their desks for their teacher (Dead Poets Society), or a man at a bridge asking to live again (It’s a Wonderful Life), or a distraught father walking away from his daughter as she shouts for him to come back (Blue Valentine). On the surface these scenes did not revolve around any great action yet they all broke through and allowed the audience to experience the stories essence. It’s this transformation from examining the outward to the inner conflict that must be the most important aspect for us as filmmakers.

The camera being used, amount of crew you have, or locations at your disposal are all surface level problems. They do need to be considered but should never be the most important thing. I’m in the middle of making a documentary at the moment and my favorite shot revolves around my subject and a blank wall. You know, the kind of wall you can literally find in any room you set foot in. Yet for the story I am telling the wall says so much about the anxiety the subject is going through. It comments on the great unknown awaiting her and the emptiness I sense she feels at the moment.

Maybe what scares us the most about this type of storytelling is the lack of control. When looking inward we must rely on the audience to come to their own conclusions. The outward can be calculated the inward is the great unknown. However, if you want to say something new you need to be willing to explore the unknown. We must always remember filmmaking is not about capturing beautiful images. We are storytellers. Our mission is to look past what is seen on the surface and examine the soul. If we can find a way to do this, there is no limit to where our stories could go.