Written by: Sarah Brill.
Director: Oliver Marshall.
Cinematographer: Grzegroz Gill.
Assistant Director: Abby Darby.
Set Design: Nick Nakahara.
Production Design: Alexis Ward.
Starring: Patrick Curran, Chip Godwin & Sarah Brill.


'Wrong Guy Right' is a short film inspired by the confusion and emptiness of relationships within my generation.The film asks the question: what is real and what is facade for a young woman longing for love while demanding truth?

We finished shooting about 3 weeks ago and are just beginning the editing process. I am excited, yet unsure of what the next few months hold as far as birthing this film baby go, but I figured blogging about it is a good place to start. So! Join us on our journey! Read on!

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Oakwood and La Brea.





Have you ever passed by a certain spot and realized that although it has not changed, you have? How many lives have you gone off and lived while it stayed right where it is? Always available for a visit. Seemingly untouched, while you have continued to evolve?

The first time you visited this place, you had no idea where you would be at this very moment. And now you are in that place, living an entirely different life than you were before. Isn’t that somehow magical? The magic of the unknown. Although the world stays constant, in certain ways, we are always evolving, developing and growing. Even when it feels like we aren’t and we may not know what’s next.

What prompts this expulsion of nonsensical questioning and philosophizing? I’ll tell you.

This morning I went to pick up the flyers to advertise the screening of ‘Wrong Guy Right’ that will be happening on November 11th. Although I am feeling very unsure of what the next step is at this point, I have decided to celebrate the completion of the project.

As part of the screening process, I made flyers to advertise the party and hopefully raise money to submit the film to festivals! So, this morning after picking up the silly little pieces of paper, I drove down La Brea (A major street in Hollywood that runs North/South) to drop some of them off to my roommate who was kind enough to hand some out at her restaurant.

As I drove down the street, I passed the intersection of Oakwood and La Brea. A wave of feeling and inspiration hit me. Why you ask? Or may be you don’t ask. Either way, I’ll tell you.

My grandfather and Bayto, (that’s what we used to call them-- note the formality of one name versus the other) used to live at this very intersection. A synagogue sits on the corner and a Honey Baked Ham is it’s closest neighbor. Funny right?

Anyway, as a kid, I used to come to this very location all the way from Colorado to visit my grandparents. My grandfather and I would take walks around the block and observe all the different kinds of people that resided in his eclectic neighborhood. I found Hollywood fascinating.

The most intriguing to me were the male Hasidic Jews. They always passed us on their way to the synagogue on the corner and no matter how many times I smiled at them, they would never smile back. My grandfather was a psychiatrist and taught me one of the most important beauties in life I know: to always ask questions. He was fearless. He would ask anyone anything.

One particular afternoon as we strolled along, I asked why the men would never return my smile. My grandfather couldn’t find the answer off the top of his head, so he politely stopped one of the men, and asked him. I was 10 years old and mortified, but I learned the answer! The three men chatted openly about how a look exchanged between two people of the opposite sex is taken as a sexual pass in their culture, and therefore is deemed inappropriate.

Although this moment was embarrassing at the time and slightly hilarious, I have always looked back on it as a place from which I can draw courage to ask the questions I need to in life.

16 years ago when I stood on that very corner, I wanted to know about a simple cultural nuance. And now I pass that same corner and I wonder a much larger question. What is next?

How strange that one place can remain the same and so much can change. Since that time my grandfather has passed, I have become an adult and experienced more than I ever would have dreamed would occur. If you had asked me in that moment if I would be living in Hollywood, getting ready to have a screening for a short film that I wrote, I would never have believed you. I never could have told you how it all would have transpired either.

This thought gives me hope. It reminds me that the gold in life exists in the moments upon which we look back and everything makes sense just for a second. And it also reminds me that the future happens no matter what. And it will probably unfold in ways beyond our wildest dreams. And it’s only when we pass by someplace that has remained a pillar of strength for us despite all of our change that we realize, it’s OK. It’s all unfolding, just as it should.

Thursday, October 7, 2010

You just never know. And then Jesus shows up. LITERALLY.


Last Tuesday was my birthday. In past years, I have planned the day out to a T, full of expectations etc, only setting myself up for disappointment. This year I learned my lesson, and did just the opposite. I expected nothing and boy was it one heck of a day.

It was all pretty normal up until about 10pm, when things just got weird. A friend of mine just finished a short film called "Zombie Roadkill' that is in the process of getting distributed. He was screening it at William Morris, a big talent agency in Beverly Hills and asked me if I could help him serve. As I politely replied to some one's question for me at the event, 'Yes serving still technically is my day job.' If I haven't mentioned it enough already in previous blogs, I am a starving artist and am always on the hunt for any extra nickle or dime. So even though it was my birthday, I agreed to help a brotha out.

I finished around 10pm and began to make my way over to meet up with some friends and hear some live Latin music. Heading East on Sunset, I reflected on the day and how lucky I felt for all the love I received, and honestly, how perfectly the day had gone. FAMOUS LAST WORDS.

For those of you that don't live in LA, Sunset is an extremely busy street, with way too much stop and go traffic. I should have known better than to go that way, but I was running a little early and sometimes I simply enjoy the lights and the chaotic, strange hustle and bustle of the Sunset strip at night.

The next thing I knew an explosion had gone off and I was surrounded by a cloud of dust. My knee was pounding with pain and Jesus Christ was walking towards me. You think I'm kidding right? Either that, or you are thinking... 'OK, she's really lost it now... Someone told her they liked her blog, and now she's talking about how she's found Jesus.' I promise you, I have not lost my mind. I am telling the truth.

I got into a car accident!! ON MY BIRTHDAY!

The car in front of me slammed on his brakes, I slammed into the back of him, and a man dressed as Jesus came to my rescue. He was a street performer, mind you, with a blog. And you better believe he gave me the name of it, after all was said and done. www.IsawjesusinLA.com. But there was no doubt he saved me. He walked across Sunset, told me to get out of the car. 4 incredibly strong men proceeded to pull over and the next thing I knew, they were clearing my broken windshield, airbag deployed, yellow tin can of a car to the side of the road.

The strongest of them exclaimed, 'Don't be scared, I had lunch with Jesus just last week, you'll be safe in his hands until the tow truck comes.' I would later come to find out that said strong man is the leading UFC fighter in the world at the moment. How poetic: Jesus and the most gruesome fighter of them all coming to my rescue. What does that mean????

Forgive me for trying to find meaning amongst all of this, but it's all just a little too symbolic to ignore. Am I wrong?

What's even crazier??? The car that I hit drove away. No police were involved. No tickets were given. It was just me and Jesus on the side of the road, awaiting a tow truck or a friend of mine, whichever came first. My oldest friend, Diana, was the first on the scene, and she made sure to get concrete evidence of the event. Henceforth, the picture at the top.

So, at this point in time. I'm really not sure how this story relates to my short or the big picture, but I just had to write it down. And remind myself and anyone else who cares, that life really is crazy and we never can tell what awaits us each day as we venture out into the world. It could be Jesus. Or a street performer with a blog.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Surround yourself with your dream team.




Somewhere in the past year a woman by the name of Thea- Marie Perkins wrote, produced, directed and starred in a short film called 'Nurse Seacole'. I had a small part in the film. At that time, I was nowhere close to making my own project and it was difficult for me to empathize with her process because I had no comprehension of what it actually took to wear so many hats at once. Not to mention her film was a period piece, taking place in the 1800s, which brought her to a whole new level of complexity.

It's amazing how much our previous experiences inform our desire and ability to embark upon our own dreams. It wasn't too long after I finished working with Thea- Marie that I started writing my own short film. Watching her over the few days that I was on her set, gave me information that I otherwise would not have had. It's only now though, looking back that I realize what I really gleaned from that opportunity.

It's always so interesting what hindsight does. We grow and then we look back and realize that maybe our perspective in the moment was not as clear as we thought it was. Maybe we didn't have the experience to really understand what was occurring.

If I'm honest, when I worked on 'Nurse Seacole', I had trouble fully enjoying the experience. I was upset I didn't have a larger part. I felt unrecognized for my work. What a diva? Right?!? It's embarrassing to admit that, and maybe I shouldn't, but I know I don't ever learn anything unless I tell the truth.

A wise man once told me, 'If you can't handle a little, how are you going to handle a lot?' A year ago, I couldn't handle a little. I really couldn't. I was too wrapped up in my own self will and desire to see that the experience was not about me.

It wasn't until I made my own film that I realized how incredible the work that Thea- Marie did was. It wasn't until I made my own film that I realized how essential the positive energies were of every participating person. And, it wasn't until I made my own film that I saw how my judgement came from a lack of understanding, and as a result, I missed a chance to get to know a person who had a lot to teach.

I decided it might be a good idea to try and reconnect with Thea- Marie and ask her all the questions I now had after going through an experience that was slightly paralleled to hers. I was interested to see what I would learn from being open to viewing a previous experience through new eyes.

How interesting that now that I'm wrapping up my film making process and getting ready to screen my short, I'm facing the very same fear of judgement. How do I deal with it? What do I do when people have negative things to say about something that means so much to me? How do I explain that it was a story I wrote for cathartic purposes with hopes of conveying a message? What if no one gets it? What if no one shows up? All of these questions flood my head.

I wonder how Thea- Marie dealt with that.

Well, Ms. Thea- Marie Perkins was kind of enough to meet up with me for coffee last Thursday. She let me ask her any question I wanted and was entirely candid with her responses. (In the midst of our interview, Eddie Murphy walked in, a perfect poetic interlude to our discussion of film.) She told me about her moment of inspiration, she shared with me the challenges she had to overcome along the way, and she showed me her beautiful trailer (made especially for the Palm Springs Film Festival). But, I must say my favorite part of the entire discussion was her response to the most important question.

How do you deal with judgement?

"I think Serena or Venus said it best," Thea- Marie replied. "You have to surround yourself with your dream team." She told me you have to have a certain amount of tunnel vision and let the negativity slide off the walls of your tunnel. Keep your eye on the goal. Let the positivity in and let the negativity roll off.

I must say, it's incredible in life when experiences come full circle. What if Thea- Marie had let judgement get to her? What if she hadn't completed her film? What if she hadn't had the courage to wear all the hats that she did in order to make 'Nurse Seacole'?

It's entirely possible that I wouldn't have had the courage to make my own film. I wouldn't have had the chance to see my own behavior and perspective and make a shift. Merely being on her set and then having a chance to meet with her almost a year later and connect, changed my life.

Surround yourself with your dream team. Don't give up. Know that judgement comes from ignorance. Experiences come full circle. These are the lessons I learned from you, Thea- Marie Perkins. Thank you so much for your wisdom, courage and dedication to your dream.

Below is a link to the trailer for her film. It has been accepted to The Film Market at The International Palm Springs Short Fest, and many more to come.

http://www.youtube.com/user/CREATEYRDREAM#p/a/u/1/cpZQrgjX8xw

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Dreams. They DO come true.


I was just a wee thing. 10 years old, in fact when Pulp Fiction came out. Most parents would never even dream of letting their child watch such a provocative film at such a young age, but I was a sneaky little devil... I'm not sure how I actually got my hands on the movie itself, but what I do remember is falling IN LOVE with the soundtrack.

I remember my 6th grade school trip to the San Juan river. 20 screaming pre teens and 2 adult chaperones stuck in a van for Gd knows how many hours.

Katie Ergen and I sat in the back, delicately holding my diskman without shock absorption, each taking a separate earphone from the one set we had, and as the magic quality of music would have it, time flew. I looked out the window and secretly imagined making my own movie and wondered about the music it would have. We played that soundtrack on repeat until the CD broke. And if it didn't actually break, it should have. That's how many times we played it.

Who made that CD? How did they pick so many great songs? Where do soundtracks come from? I wondered...

I remember thinking at the time, what a treat it was to have such an incredible grouping of songs in one place. An entire experience. A journey, if you will. This was before napster, mp3s, CD burning and ipods. If I liked a song, I saved up all of my money to go to Sam Goody and buy the entire album, most of which I usually ended up hating... 15 dollars later. So, it was a real treat to have a CD where every song was one that I loved. Man, that makes me feel old. And writing that last sentence makes me feel even older. Whatever, that's not the point.

Flash forward 12 years. I moved to L.A. and found myself working for Mary Ramos, the very woman who made the soundtrack for Pulp Fiction! Now if that isn't serendipity, stars aligning and luck, I don't know what is. Mary was and is the coolest of the cool, if I do say so myself. And when I stopped working at her office, I felt thankful that I got to know her as a person and friend. Not to mention what I learned about music and film!

I never imagined that getting to know Mary would answer my prayers in more ways than one! When I told her I had written a short film and she offered her expertise with the music, I would have to say I received nothing short of a gift from the heavens above.

Is it really possible that something I dreamed about and didn't even fathom as a possibility could actually be coming true in real life? Could the person who made my all time favorite soundtrack in the world be doing the soundtrack for my film!?!

Please do not mistake me and think that I am in any way putting my short and Pulp Fiction in anywhere near the same category.... But, I just have to say, life is freaking COOL sometimes!

This evening around 7:30, Mary and I finished selecting the music for the short! I am so excited and feel so invigorated and inspired. After watching it with our music choices, it felt like new life had been given to it. As I drove home, I couldn't help but thank my lucky stars for allowing me such an opportunity today. And, it made me remember to remind myself that dreams really do come true.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Ask and you shall receive.




AMF Mar Vista. That's where I work. A bowling alley full of rockabilly musicians, horny teenagers, alcoholics, thugs, hipsters, artists, surfers and smelly homeless guys. Rainbow diamonds on black, the carpet. Cracked gold paint covers the mirror that reflects the sunken in, red leather trimmed, wood and stone, 70s bar. Neon beer signs shower the patrons with a nostalgic, but dirty glow. And on Sunday nights, folks come from as far East as Culver City and as far West as Venice (not that far) to enjoy 'DOLLAR MANIA'. 5 dollar shoes and a dollar per game. What could be better? Bet you can't think of as many things as I can.

Sometimes I fall in love with Sundays. Watching the people. Creating their stories. Remembering their names and their drinks. Seeing their relationships change. A river of artistic inspiration.

Hoping the Mar Vista lanes would feed me a title on this lovely Sunday, I was nothing short of disappointed when a massive pack of UCLA medical students rented out the entire facility. A breed of human I know all too well... Over privileged, over educated, under experienced, rich kids who DON'T KNOW HOW TO TIP. Now, I know this may sound a little harsh, but I was almost one of them, once upon a time, so I can judge.

On this summer night, I just happened to be practicing maintaining a positive mindset, and boy was I put to the test. Why does that always happen? I believe in the power of positive thinking, I tell everyone about it, I swear by it, and then I get hit with a bad day and all I want to do is throw my hands up and say, 'You stupid jerks!! How are you going to provide good service to the sick people of America if you wouldn't know good service if it hit you in the head with a 20 pound brick?!?!'

Don't worry. I didn't scream that out. Nor did I react to my feelings of negativity. But when I walked out of the bowling alley doors without a dime in my pocket, I had a choice. Either I could go home and wallow in my thoughts of financial ruin or I could go say goodbye to a good friend of mine who was leaving the next morning for a month long business trip. I decided upon the latter.

Sometimes a moment with some friends can be all I need to get me out of my self involved funk. So, taking some contrary action, I pulled up to her beach front apartment, let the heavy sea air fill my nose and stick to my skin. 'I may be a waitress who didn't make a cent tonight, but I have great friends, the ocean, and a title to find. Life goes on', I told myself.

Well.' Ask and you shall receive', I told myself on the drive home later that night. A title I wanted and a title I found! Turns out the power of positive thinking works.

Upon settling into a discussion with my girlfriends about possible dating slogans that people our age use, an observer sat on the side listening. 'What's your short about?' He asked.

Fighting my inner urge to shy away from the question, as I hate describing anything that means something me, clearly out of fear of judgement, (Ah fear. It's my friend, I tell you. When I face it.) I told him. I didn't even think he was listening. And then! The title was born! 'WRONG GUY RIGHT'. Thank you, Mr. observer. Brilliant!

So, the message for today. Stay positive and keep searching until it clicks. You never know where the gems pop up and shine. I can say one thing for sure though, it is most certainly when you least expect it.

Friday, July 30, 2010

What's in a name?


When a girl meets a guy and she tells her friends about him, her friends ask, 'What's his name??'

Sometimes a name is just a name. And sometimes... it can magically amplify his mystery and charm. Some names try too hard and turn out to be funny. Or! The guy with the funny name has the ability to make anything seem cool, so his name becomes cooler than the coolest of names. I'm sure men have a parallel with women, but, I'm not a man, so I really have no idea. But anyone will admit, some names are just sexy.

"Oh! I've never met a 'so and so' before. They sound interesting. I wonder why their parents named them that. What's the origin of that name? I have to know."

A regularly named person can be equally as interesting as a sexy named, probably even more so, but do they get as much attention? Do they spark the interests of as many people? Do they get as many life opportunities as those that are blessed with enchanting titles?

What kind of name do you have? I personally, have one of those good ol' fashioned boring names. So boring in fact, people usually have to put an initial after my name so they can differentiate among the millions of 'other Sarah's' they know.

It's alright. I'm OK with being mundane. But, I don't want anything I make to be. No child of mine is going to be named---. Oh no! I don't want to offend anyone. And I'm not having kids anytime soon, so I guess I can just relate this whole diatribe to THE NAME of my short!

A title is just like a name. And creating a piece of art is like creating a life. So, naming this short has been quite a challenge because the name that first came to me was a gift. My beloved aunt who is a writer herself, read my short and suggested I call it 'He loves me Not.'

I respect my aunt so much as an artist and philosopher. Her perspectives enlighten me in every way, so when she suggested this title, I loved it and wanted her to have a part in my creation.
But as time went on, I ran up against several problems. The title left no mystery. What's life without mystery? But, I liked the way it sounded! It was kinda catchy. And, my aunt Linda came up with it! And I love my aunt Linda!

Are these the dilemmas parents go through when naming their children? Should we name it after this person or that one? You can't tell a person you're going to name your child after them and then change your mind! Right??

Well! Good thing this isn't a child, it's a short film and my aunt is pretty cool. I'm pretty sure she'll understand. In fact, I'm fairly sure she'll say, I never really liked the name anyway...

So... Now, I'm looking for a new name. I'm about to send the locked version of the final cut to the colorist, and I don't know what to name my film baby! Well, that's not entirely true. I have renamed it. And there is reasoning behind the new name. And I think it holds some mystery. But, I'm still looking for THE SEXY. There's no sexy in this name!
Maybe if I 'Just Go With the Flow', it will come to me... ;)

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Just cut out the fat!!!


Over the past few months, Oliver (the director) and I have been working on a director's cut of the film. It has been difficult for me to let anything go because I am so attached to all that shows our blood, sweat and tears. Sometimes being immersed in something does not allow for the clearest point of view, but it is certainly a valid and interesting one...

Meanwhile, a friend of mine who is an editor was working on his own cut of the film. I didn't want to pressure him because he was generous enough to do it for me out of the kindness of his heart. So, when he agreed to help me out, I left it at that and promised myself I wouldn't nag or check up on him. If he decided to do it, he would do it and if he didn't, then at least Oliver and I would have our cut...

Sunday night, the phone rang and it was my friend Richard. He had finished his cut! I got over there as fast as I could on Monday to see it. He sat me down and told me as gently as possible that the fat needed to be cut out. Now of course, at first I felt terrified. This is my work! I can't let any of it go!

But then I realized, in the department of storytelling, Richard is the man. And it would probably behoove me to listen to his wisdom rather than defend my own ignorant ground. So, I gave him the go ahead to cut out what he thought needed to go, and wow did it make a difference! All of a sudden all of our hard work had a new shine.

How is it that something that stands alone can turn into something completely different and yet still be true to itself?

When I first began writing this short film, the first draft was something completely independent of the one with which we shot. When we first began rehearsing, the ideas that we had about the characters and their choices couldn't have been further from what we enacted. And finally, out of the three first cuts that I have in my hands today, the one that I think may tell the story in the most effective manner, is the one that is furthest from what I originally had in mind! Somehow though, amongst all the cuts and all the changes, the story is more itself than it ever has been... It's almost as if all this time we have just been cutting away the fat to get to the bones or the truth, if you will.

Now it's on to the sound mixing and music... And then... the ultimate moment of truth: I have to let go and let others be the judge. That is the scariest and hardest part of all, but I can't wait!!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Writing makes me hate myself


I sit here on a Saturday night at 7:30pm with no plans to go out. I have a date with my screenplay. I think I mentioned before that I am working on a feature about my most prevalent and puzzling question. What the f*** is love? I'm pretty sure we all wonder about that one... And I'm also fairly sure that no one REALLY has an answer. There are various theories and postulations... But, it seems to be one of the unanswerable ones.

My hope is that by recounting and digging through my own experiences with 'love' at least something new will reveal itself and bring me some kind of peace of mind or momentary catharsis.

Have I lost you yet? Maybe some of you are rolling your eyes at this point because maybe some of you know something or many things, for that matter, that I don't. But, I can tell you one thing that I do know for sure, and that is this: writing makes me hate myself.

It's true. As soon as I put the words down on paper that have waltzed out my mouth at one point or another, I feel this intense desire to want to throw up, close my eyes really tight, shake my head and plead to the heavens for time travel so that I can go back into the past and change what transpired. If only I had said this. If only I had done that. Oh lord have mercy!

Of course, I am being slightly over dramatic... I try to live without regret and in doing so, stand strong in the choices I have made. But, it is true that often times when I put an experience on paper as truthfully as possible, the places that I am lying to myself become obvious, and sometimes I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I am human, and that I make the same mistakes for which I criticize others.

I consider myself someone who always has good intentions and tries to do the right thing, but I realize when I write, that being a 'good' person is no saving grace. We all find ourselves caught in situations where temptation and truth are in a constant battle. We all want to walk away feeling like we did our best and the rest lies in the hands of the divine.

But, trust me, go back and examine your last romantic encounter with a fine toothed comb and see what you come up with... Tell me, was it squeaky clean? Do you have any lurking questions? Did your past rear it's ugly head? If you answer no to all these questions, you're probably lying. And, if you're not lying, well then, good for you. But if you do happen to share the same sentiments that I do, then don't worry, you're not alone.

Monday, June 14, 2010

A poem.


I have writers block today. This is a poem I wrote a while back. It's always interesting looking at morsels of the past with new eyes.

**********************************************************************************

Sitting here.
Not entirely sure what the trigger was.

Imagining what it would be like if I were standing.
Elbows on my knees. Feet wide. Nose full. Tears infinitely staining- never transcending enough.
Within each droplet, a particle of pain released for the universe to absorb.
When will these tears manifest more than a momentary existence?

I can do that. I thought that. I almost said that. I felt that. Yesterday. Tomorrow. Tonight. Next week.
Dead.
Yet to be awakened.
Ahora mismo. This very moment. All I have. To lose.
It loses it's purity once I let it out. It's mine. Don't hurt it. Don't tell me I'm wrong.
It's all I have.
Where will I be if you take me away?

My universe encapsulates and imprisons me.
But, it's so comfortable. I want out so bad.
It's not locked. The door's open. Take a step.

I'm so much better at dreaming.
I'm so talented.
Dream. Dream. Dream.
No one knows what goes on up here.
LEAP!

Shut up! Stop yelling at me!
Let me rest. Let me be.
But I haven't done anything.
Exactly.
I'm tired.
Arrogant, scared, entitled.

Am I really those things?
Am I really about truth?
Are you?
What is real? Please can someone tell me!?
Am I willing to sacrifice everything to be true?
Do I have a choice?

There I go again. Unanswerable questions.
Back to the circularity of distraction.
Philosophical orgasm.
I'm almost there.
Isn't that the best part anyway?

I want to walk away. Afraid I lost my line. My spark.
I'll walk away first. You're probably not even listening.
You think I'm crazy.

'REALIZE YOUR POWER'- a voice says way back there.
But I'm still walking.
'STOP! MAKE A CHANGE!'
I look down at the treadmill.
I prefer it.
It tells me how far I've gone.
There aren't any mile markers on the real road.

So by now I understand it a little more.
One road block of many.

But, the proof is in the pudding.
Isn't it always?
I'm still pretending.
Waiting for tomorrow.
And that hard rain.
With droplets that birth gold and never die.
-Someday.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Infinity and Beyond











Meet Lilly, Sean and Swag: The three characters of He Loves me Not.

*Lilly~ an insecure, naive and self righteous girl looking for love as her escape.

*Sean~ an over privileged and developmentally delayed trust fund baby, who happens to be easy on the eyes.

*Swag~ the stoner roommate who ironically embodies truth.

Yesterday, Patrick, Chip (the two other actors) and I got together to do a photo shoot for the press kit that I mentioned in the last post. My sister, who is a photographer, was kind enough to take the photos for us in her studio. It was a dreamlike experience having three people that I love and respect so much come together for a creative purpose without charging or asking anything of me. The joy that existed for me in the moment yesterday reminded me why life really is so great.

Much of the time I find myself 10 steps ahead of wherever I am, or 10 steps behind. I am either thinking about everything I have to get done or recounting the events that I have experienced, trying to figure out how and why it all transpired. But, yesterday was a different story.

The creative process is magical. It really is like giving birth to something that takes on a life of it's own. I found myself dumbfounded yesterday that the three of us were having a photo shoot as our characters, when 4 months ago those people were merely a figment of my imagination. I couldn't help but wonder where Lilly, Sean and Swag's characters would go next in the story.

Over the past few months I have been working on a new screenplay involving Lilly's character. But, after yesterday, I just don't know how I can give up Sean and Swag. There is just too much life left in them. So... here's to creativity and infinite possibility. Sean and Swag live on! Maybe. ;)


Thursday, June 3, 2010

Who Am I???


Today I spent the day doing research to start a press kit so that we can submit our film to festivals. In a press kit, it is essential to include bios about all of the people involved in the film. I started trying to write my own and I realized, I hate singing my own praises. Why is it so easy for some people and so hard for others?It's strange how certain things come up in life and present themselves in more than one venue.

Right now, defining myself is a very prevalent theme in my life. I am looking for a new job. I am suffering from 'struggling artist syndrome' (I made that up) and have to find a better way to support myself than the system I currently have in action.

I'm trying to decide, do I give up my dream and get a 9 to 5? Do I get a job at a better restaurant where my spirits are higher and the money is better? Although I have decided upon the latter, to continue forth with my dream and find a different restaurant, I am still confronted with the dilemma of defining myself.

Whether it be in an independent film bio, a job interview, an agent's office or in front of a casting director who wants to know to whom I normally get compared, I feel like I am always trying to fit my square body into a circle spot. Why can't I just be me? Can't you just tell all that you need to know by talking to me? Why must we go into the past and recite all that we have done? I know that's the whole point of developing a resume and a body of work, but just as Bob Dylan says, 'Everything passes, everything changes, just do what you think you should do.'

Can't we all just be in the moment for once!? That's what I want to tell everyone I meet. Do you like me or not? What's your first impression? Don't make me explain myself. Don't make me make excuses. Just judge me and and take me or let me go. Oh Lordy! If only life were that easy...

It seems that the resolve is this, at a certain point we are all products. Selling ourselves to something or other so that we can make a living. Whether we are doctors gathering patients for our practice, lawyers convincing clients we can defend them, wedding planners picking out the prettiest dresses or artists explaining our films, we all have something to sell. And nobody wants to buy a product they don't understand or doesn't bring them some sort of hope.
But isn't it more truthful to just be who we are, do the best that we can and offer no guarantees?


Monday, May 24, 2010

Lost Where I Belong



Today has been one of those days where I have been questioning the meaning of everything around me. The world seems to have no order and I am sick of commenting on it, trying to find some meaning amongst it all through writing or acting or some creative endeavor. I am sick of searching for truth when it just seems like things happen randomly and there isn't a rhyme or a reason for anything. I think to myself, maybe I should quit my artistic pursuit. Maybe I should just give up and go to medical school where all of my problems will be solved. I'll have a path to follow and I won't have to face all of my fears.

Every Monday I go to an acting class where it's difficult to hide from any feeling. My teacher has a way of sucking the emotion out of her students whether they like it or not. On certain days I love this about her, specifically when I'm not the subject. But, on days like today, when I am the subject of her hunt for truth and emotion, I hate it. For someone who claims to love the truth, I sure hate telling it sometimes, when it comes to how I feel.

To me, telling the truth is the double-edged sword of art. It's what makes it so irresistible and so excruciating in one fell swoop. And when it comes time to delve into the painful stuff, giving up can feel like the most viable option. When there are so many beautiful elements in life that appear to be void of pain, why do I have to look at the bad stuff? Can't I just ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist? Other people around me seem to live beautiful lives, full of lies... Why does it appear so easy for them?

These are the questions the swirl through my head today. Then I think about sitting down to work on my new screenplay, and I feel completely lost. Lost because I don't want to look at the truth of what I have to write. I don't want to have to feel the pain. I just want to pretend everything is OK. But, isn't it true that nothing interesting and worthwhile ever comes easily?

I call my dad. I tell him how I feel and he tells me to think of Michelangelo. Ha ha. I am no Michelangelo, and in fact, including him in my blog makes me laugh at myself. But, he's referring to something specific.

Michelangelo's, David lives in a museum in Florence. The hallway leading up to it is filled with his unfinished sculptures (pictured to the right). The marble that he continued to chip away at before he created his masterpiece. These pieces show his frustration, fears and perseverance. His lapses in faith in himself, followed by another try.

So here I am today, still fighting the fight. Staying true, even though it hurts and believing that one day, the hard work will pay off. And when I say 'pay off', I mean that hopefully, when the day comes that this life is over, I can look back, nod my head and say, 'Yeah, I'm glad I lived it like that.'

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

797. If all else fails, expose yourself so she will f**k you




Oliver (the director pictured to the right) and I spent today editing. Upon looking through the script he used while shooting, I found atop page 7 or 8 the following. '797. If all else fails, expose yourself so she will f**k you.' Surely this was a note for one of the characters that was pertinent to the story, but neither of us, to save our souls, could remember to what the crucial note was in reference.

Strange how the mind sifts through things. We hold on to what is important for as long as we need it and then we let it go.

Does letting go of something lessen it's original importance? It seems like a strange parallel to be drawing from such a silly quote, but the concept of letting go has really been getting to me lately. Why is it so hard to do? Is it hard for everyone? It definitely seems to be a crucial component to growing up and for that matter, surviving. But when should we hold on?

Friday, May 14, 2010

And it's all over now, baby blue.... Or has it just begun?

Here are some pictures from the shoot! It's always hard to say goodbye to these creative adventures! The benefit of shooting a film is the footage lasts forever as apposed to doing a play where the drama ends on closing night. If all goes well in the editing room, hopefully we will be happy that we have all of this on record!