As part of my 200-hour yoga teacher certification course, I had to record 15 hours of myself teaching. In order to make that task less daunting, I coupled the effort with expanding my filmmaking skill set.
I researched an animation app that advertised itself as being “easy to use.” As usual with new tech, I spent several frustrating hours putting a decent sequence together for the introduction of my yoga video.
I had no problem choosing a setting since the motivation for creating a chair yoga sequence presented itself when I overnighted in an airport unexpectedly.
That part of the video was engaging and cute. The content quality plummeted from there. From my own self-criticism, I thought the video footage went from an adorable animation to a hostage video.
I couldn’t use the audio from the video since, in the adjacent room, a dance class was in progress. So, I recorded footage without speaking, which made editing much easier.
In the spirit of “I’ll fix it in post,” I recorded a voice over (VO). My intention was to use a calming/soothing voice to help anyone who’d just missed their connecting flight. Additionally, the chair sequence was a series of postures that one could do in an uncomfortable airline terminal seat.
After recording the VO, I added instrumental music, which changed with each change in posture. Not DJ quality musical flow, but better than dead silence.
Next, I uploaded the 30-minute video to my newly made YouTube channel by creating a playlist. Another first. I also created a channel logo:
Even with the post-production effort, I thought the video was the worst content I’d made in a long time. I defeated my inner critic by declaring that I could only go up from there.
Then, I did myself a tremendous favor by sending out the link to my family and friends. Their feedback was invaluable.
One of my friends texted that she found my VO hilarious since she knew what my real voice sounded like.
One of my sisters was even more exacting about my VO in her text. “You sound like a sex Goddess in the video! Was that the sound you were going for?”
Absolutely not. Apparently, I’d put the “whore” in “horrible.”
My other sister, who thinks she’s my mother, left me a voicemail, asking me to call for her feedback. She agreed with the sex Goddess voice observation, but didn’t want to put that in writing. Instead she told me that my tone of voice at the end of the video was much better than in the beginning.
Also, she wanted me to know that throughout the video, I looked “slouchy.” Initially, I didn’t think that was a word. After all, she’s notorious for changing song lyrics and mispronouncing words to the extent they don’t sound like real words. The family-famous example is her pronunciation of the word “licorice.” She calls it “lick-WISH.”
After that critique, the hostage video footage seemed even worse now that my awareness focused on my lazy, drooping seated posture throughout the video. (Yes, I purposely chose a picture for this blog post where I didn’t look slouchy because, damn…)
My play cousin texted, “👀What am i looking at prima?”
I responded, “One of my yoga homework videos, primo. Is it that confusing?!” He liked the question.
Another friend who was included in that text chain stated, “I got 10min in. Was between satire and practical and early vid practice. 👏🏽”
That was the best compliment from someone who actually watched.
I received “congratulations” and “you go girl” from friends and family who obviously hadn’t bothered to watch. Or perhaps they had watched the video, but wanted to politely avoid saying how bad/confusing/slouchy it was and focus on the fact that I’d had completed the first video.
Only 14.5 hours of instructional yoga videos to go.
For future videos, I will: 1) not use the sex Goddess voice; 2) use a colorful piece of cloth on the wall to break up the starkness; 3) explore other camera angles.
Whenever I receive a gift card or bonus, the first thing I brainstorm is how to use that money to improve/enhance/enjoy my life. I’m one of those rare people who believes that money CAN buy happiness–as long as you have the right set of priorities.
For years, I referred to myself as a one-woman production company. Many monetary gifts have gone toward podcasting, digital illustration, and filmmaking. Even though writing and performance are my strongest talents, I don’t shy away from all other aspects of embellishing my writing auditorily and visually, beyond costuming.
Two years ago, I attended a local film festival and spoke with one of the filmmakers whose project was an animation. I took notes, thinking “one day” I’d check it out and create something.
Amazing how quickly time passes when actively living. Last year, I visited Ghana, produced the longest podcast episode to date, and created a short film as a Christmas gift to my family. And those were just three creative/adventurous things among my usual juggle of activities.
I started off the new year contemplating whether I’d round up voice actors. Then, I wondered if I could save myself the “trouble” and do all the voices myself. Are there animation platforms that had a feature to alter one’s voice? What’s the least expensive way to do an animated project?
These questions and more all waiting to be discovered once I start researching them, bringing “one day” of doing an animated project even closer. Just as long as I don’t fall into that “analysis paralysis” trap.
That’s where one researches the hell out of something but never takes action beyond that. I’ve not been guilty of that for years. I usually fell into that trap with writing projects. I tend to run with other creative ideas outside of writing, especially if I buy something.
The next video opportunity will be recording 15 hours of me teaching yoga as part of my 200-hour yoga certification. The instructor stated that we could be as simple or complex as our video production skill set allows.
We thought we’d be funny by placing a novelty drink light into Dad’s water glass. Mom and I kept prompting him to comment about it. My nephew giggled in anticipation. Watch how Dad handled the situation.
When I showed Dad the video, I told him that we kept referring to his water glass because we wanted him to talk about was in it. He said, “Well, it sure wasn’t egg nog.”
For a second time in a row, I attended the only local film festival in town. Unlike last year, there wasn’t another cool event competing during the same weekend; so I was better able to immerse myself into the world of independent film and the creatives who dedicated themselves into the art of filmmaking.
The opening-night featured film was a Luther Vandross documentary. Among my many talents, singing isn’t one of them. I danced in my seat and sang to my heart’s content along with other audience members who knew the words. As amazingly talented Luther was, known for his romantic songs, he died never knowing the love of an intimate partner because he didn’t want the added stigma of being gay. He already battled with being dark-skinned and fluctuating weight. Besides, he felt that coming out would have shamed his mother.
After the movie, many of us strolled down the block to the festival reception. Although I’d come alone, I joined a table of two women, mainly because of the Black woman with the African headwrap who exuded a lot of energy. Turned out that she wasn’t some out-of-town filmmaker, but a fellow yogi who used to attend my Tuesday evening hot yoga class.
I told her that I didn’t recognize her because normally, I didn’t have my glasses on in class. Yet, we swapped stories in a way that we never had in class. I got her contact information once she stated that one of her businesses was buying properties to rent out for high-end Air BnBs. I shared that information with my sister who’d also started buying and fixing up properties.
Soon afterwards, an actor from Durham joined us. In real life, he taught martial arts, but had acted in a horror film that made it in the festival. I told him that was the one genre I no longer watched, but wished him well. If he was half as energetic in that film as he was at the reception, the the film should be quite entertaining despite its genre.
The next morning, my usual plan to sleep in was thwarted because I also wanted to do a few loads of laundry before spending nearly the entire day downtown at the festival. I even bought a “dinner with a director” ticket for $20, figuring that that would be the most inexpensive meal and entertainment during the dinner block.
After all, the whole point for the weekend was to watch independent films and network. Although I didn’t emphasize networking too much, nothing will happen if I’m not in the space to actively do so. What I loved about the dinner was that, like everyone else in this industry, he had to get creative about funding and reached out to a pro athlete. Talk about connections.
Last year, I didn’t watch any films at the Capitol, which I thought was a theatre. I stood corrected. Although the space itself has gone through many different iterations, it was now a school and the screenings took place in an art classroom. I enjoyed both documentary films that I watched in that space, but those folding chairs were something to be desired.
The first documentary film I watched at the Capitol was about a revolutionary professor at my alma mater, Carolina, and playwright who wrote realistically about life in the South for Blacks, which was why he had a challenging time getting them produced in the South. Southern whites hardly ever want to see the ugly side of the so-called genteel South. The playwright himself grew up with Blacks, which was why he could write about their humanity.
The second documentary I saw at the Capitol, played in the last block as an alternative to the horror short films. I thought more people would watch a documentary about several Black women who choose to breastfeed, birthing coaches and doulas, but there were only four of us in the audience. Overall, I liked the documentary even though it seemed a little long. Could have been the time of day or the uncomfortableness of the the chair.
I sacrificed my usual Sunday morning hot yoga class to enjoy the last day of the festival, which kicked off with a members barbecue and awards ceremony. Since it was included in the price of my VIP pass, I knew I’d attend in order to get the rest of my money’s worth.
As I stood in the food line, I scanned the room. Almost made me feel like the new girl at school, looking for a table to join and eat lunch. Turned out, one of the filmmakers at the table I finally sat at welcomed me to the “cool kids table.” That analogy hadn’t been lost on her either.
At that table sat filmmakers who represented four different films. I’d already spoken to two of them previously and had seen all but one of their films. That was part of the magic of such a festival. One of the filmmakers was a professor and had done an animated film.
I whipped out my phone and started jotting down information about which animation program that she’d used. Much to my delight, I learned that I could import digital illustrations from the drawing program that I’d been using for the last four years. Another filmmaker beside me was taking notes from my notes.
In that brief conversation, I’d already thought of a short script that I’d written years ago and could polish up, illustrate and voice. As usual, wearing all the hats myself. It’s not that I’m such a control freak, wanting everything myself. I just feel that I’d have to pay other people to take the project as seriously as I do and in the end, would have to do all the things myself anyway.
I’m going to use the wish to start animating to keep the fires burning on finishing two other projects that I need to complete prior to starting anything else: my aunt’s surprised birthday video and finally finish typing up all my journals.
The former would’ve already been completed had I never started studying for my pharmacy tech license, but the nerd in me absolutely love studying, especially since the company is paying for it and in the long run will put more money in my pocket.
Plus, I don’t want to do a slapdash job of editing the video; so, I’ve taken my time getting everything together. The video want be anything fancy, but at the same time, I want it to be a documentation of the event and an entertaining showcase of embedded pictures.
After the barbecue awards ceremony, I returned to my car to read email on my phone until the first block began in less than an hour.
On Sunday, all the juried award-winning films were shown. I’d seen two out of the three feature films, but none of the short film award winners. They showed two of the featured films back to back, the second one I’d seen before about the first environmental movement that dealt with the inherent racism of burying contaminated wastes in a predominantly Black area. Two of the people who were in the documentary had answered questions about their experience and the making of the film.
As much as I’d enjoyed that documentary, I chose to eat lunch next door at one of my favorite Italian restaurants. I’d eaten there several times before and knew what I wanted. When the server responded to my order, “This will be easy,” I had no idea that she’d bring my drink, drop off my food and disappear until about 20 minutes after I’d finished my meal. I wasn’t in the mood to aggressively flag down another server for a to-go box, but since I’d begun watching a video, I sat there silently fuming.
My server finally returned to drop off the bill. I’m usually a straight up 20% tipper plus I round up to the nearest dollar. I don’t believe in stiffing anyone, so she got around 10%. I honestly believe that servers should be paid a living wage and tips should be eliminated, but for poor service like that, she may not last too long.
I returned to my car to continue watching the video of a property tour that my sister and her family had made of a house that they are renovating to rent. When I finished, I returned to the theatre and caught the last 20 minutes or so of the documentary before the block of award-winning short films played.
Among those films, one was an animation. Those filmmakers managed to tell a touching and compelling story without any dialogue. I’ll have dialogue for mine, but they had a whole team of people working together for their film. As much as I’d love to have that for my animation, I’ll see what I can do with the resources I have.
Once again, one of my sisters piggybacked off my idea to gift a family experience for Christmas. Last year, we gifted the family indoor skydiving, which went swimmingly well. This year, the sister collaboration involves an actual production of our very own Christmas show.
Producing a live show is in my wheel house since I produced a theme-inspired spoken word and storytelling show for eight years in Austin, The Austin Writers Roulette. One of the many lessons I learned from that creative experience is that as much as I love to organize, building in simplicity is key. What’s the least that needs to be done to execute the event?
Since my sister is an art teacher, she’s responsible for more than paying half this time around. Granted, one of the main jobs of a producer is to secure funding, but I’ve tasked her with gathering props for the show as well. She has a wealth of material at her house. After seeing what usable things we already have, we’ll buy the rest.
Even with a prop list, I’m mindful of using the fewest props and least costuming accessories to accentuate each of the five songs that I’ve selected. The introductions to each songs have been edited for the fewest words with the largest impact. Actually, that’s how I usually write, but for a live production where I have a set amount of time, I plan less to allow for fewer things to go off the rails.
In the meantime, I’m doing a little at a time, including reading up on the digital camera that I’m going to use to record the experience. All along, I trust that the production will come together.
Starting last year, I declared that I was no longer buying materialistic Christmas presents. All my gifts seemed like sacrifices to all the other junk that my family already had. Even the handmade things weren’t appreciated for the effort that I put in and STILL added to the cathedral of junk.
I brainstormed affordable family activity experiences. Part of the challenge was a 62-year age range. I hit the nail on the head last year with indoor skydiving. The octogenarians, my parents, didn’t fly, but they still enjoyed watching us and other participants fly.
The difference a year makes: dad has more mobility issues. So on top of everything else, I had the added challenge of finding an interesting family experience at an accessible venue, which in this day and age, is still a formidable challenge that requires much planning ahead.
After surveying family members about group activities, I concluded that I’d have to make the Christmas magic. I plan to produce a live Christmas show for my family at the dance studio where I take classes. In order to capture the memory, I will record the event.
Although I don’t have big ideas about what the recording will look like, especially since I’m responsible for the post production. I’ve been writing the Christmas show, including my introductions for each song.
My instructors will be the performers. Not only are they the most professional that I can afford, but I know they can make up a routine on the fly. At least I’m hoping that’s the case because I’m not too sure about whether we will have rehearsals or even a run through. I’m also hoping that since they know me that at least three instructors will want to participate in such a production on the eve of Christmas Eve.
A handful of instructors, including the studio owner, have heard me mention several times that I’m an emerging filmmaker. I want to make a short film about pole dancing. Who knew that the first one, outside of a handful of chair dancing videos, would be a Christmas show?
Since this will be a gift for my family, I thought of some “candy cane” awards that I can present to each family member. The awards will reflect some sentimental or funny moment(s) that occurred around Christmas time. After announcing the winner of the award, I have chosen a song that matches.
Choosing songs was less challenging than the candy cane awards themselves, thanks to the overabundance and commercialization of Christmas songs. All the songs are non-religious and most reference Santa.
Since I have the award verbiage written and songs chosen, I now have to secure props that instructor dancers may not have. Since this is my production, I don’t expect them to buy anything that they don’t already have. At the same time, since this is a Christmas-themed production, the chances are good that they already own props, especially attire.
I’ve already texted the song list to the instructor who, for all intents and purposes, acts like a manager and the owner. Those are the two who I’m expecting to perform, but I’d love for at least two more.
In the meantime, I’ve received the two boxes of equipment that I will use for the event. Not a moment too soon. Unfortunately, package piracy is on the rise, given inflation and the upcoming holiday season. Too bad more people aren’t embracing non-materialistic gifts although that wouldn’t allay all stealing. Just the Christmas-motivated theft.
Looking for filmmaking grants is as time-consuming as job hunting. I am attempting to replace my day job with something more creative than what I’m currently doing in exchange for income.
Since my idea is to make a short documentary, I want to know upfront what the funding parameters are. I already knew there were grants to support women, racial minorities and the combination of both, but I hadn’t thought about funding based on content such as science.
Besides, I’ve always started such a project by writing it, bringing it to a certain point, but then nothing ever happens beyond that due to lack of funding. I’m not typing a word until I’m clear about the funding. With the possible exception of the treatment. I vaguely recall one part of the application being the treatment. That’ll be the first time I’ll put words to “paper” about what I plan to do. Minus all the details. I’ve got to watch far more videos and read to narrow down my idea. That’ll come later.
Apparently, I hadn’t scratched the surface of NC-based funding even though I checked out a NC-based filmmaking website that seemed to have all types of information EXCEPT about grants. Of course, the very nature of research means looking at several sources. Plus, the pandemic has changed all landscapes, so things that existed prior to the plague may no longer be present, which would explain why that website has a glaring gap of funding information.
Upon further research, a general grant template revealed that I’m supposed to know who my crew and talent are BEFORE applying for the grant–a counterintuitive ask. I wouldn’t even be interested in joining someone’s film project if they didn’t already have funding.
What a Catch 22!
I emailed the director/screenwriter of the only film project that I interned for. She secured funding before assembling a crew and talent. She promptly returned my email and advised me of two approaches. The first approach was to ask my filmmaking friends if I can drop their names even though I have no commitment from them. The second approach was to look for my crew for real, with the stipulation that the project wouldn’t move forward if the funding doesn’t work out.
She admitted that she liked the latter idea, which also resonated with me. Essentially grantors want to see that there’s already interest in the film before they invest in it.
In the meantime, I’ll continue researching to see what other apparent stoppers I’ll encounter. At some point, I’ll find the money. I’m just learning what I’m up against. What I’m actually hoping is that once I create a budget, I can finance it myself with the help of credit card.
Since being priced out of Austin, TX, I relocated to one of the dramatically less hipper cities in NC. It’s so unhip that it’s hours away from the nearest NC city with either a film school or even a modest film industry. Even Wilmington is known as “Wilmywood” and “Hollywood East.”
After recovering from my initial disappointment of not being able to partner with a local community college or some other institution of higher learning that has a film department, I focused my research on equipment. Since both my laptop and smart phone are old, I’d hedge my bet buying those two items with digital filmmaking in mind.
The laptop costs around $2K and the phone a little over $1K. Already more than my monthly take home pay.
But that’s not all!
I’d also need a “gimbal,” which I originally thought was a fancy word for a “selfie stick,” but the more I read, the more I liked the idea of having something to mount my camera on to help stabilize the shot. Although newer phones have a built-in stabilizer, I still want a tripod, which the gimbal I’m interested in has. So, that’ll be about $200.
Lastly, the app which turns smartphone cameras into a much easier to use film camera cost about $15. I’d buy this today if I knew upfront that I could transfer it to the new phone. Actually, the more I think about it, I want to grab that low-hanging fruit to start practicing with the camera I have now.
Of all the features on my current smartphone, I had no idea about altering the camera settings. Might be nice just to trial and error my way through the whole experience before investing thousands of dollars into equipment.
Next, I need to delete many pictures off my phone…eventually. I still have plenty of storage on my phone now that I no longer produce a monthly live show. I’m not even tempted to buy whatever the equivalent of a memory stick is in today’s current technology since all the important pictures have been used in a blog post, which is online.
I don’t want to be all dramatic and say that civilization would have to collapse before I completely lost all my pictures since: 1) I may be living through that right now with Florida leading the way, and 2) I’ll have greater concerns than digital pictures if civilization does indeed collapse. All I’m really saying is that I’ll survive when I delete pictures off my phone.
Besides, I love the idea of removing things that no longer serve me to make room for new experiences.
You can tell by the lipstick that I made an effort.
Of course right after work, I wasn’t in the mood to make a wardrobe change, but I’m glad I did. Not merely because there were two rooms staged to take pictures, but also, I loved putting lipstick on for the occasion. I also had my favorite accessory: a glass of red wine. The necklace/earring set was a nice touch too.
I actually spent most of my time sitting and talking.
So, my “poses” were a creative extension of what I spend most of the evening doing–minus putting my feet up on the table. I befriended a budding podcaster and her brother. As I answered her questions, trying not to go too far off the rails with tangential detalis, she remarked that I just go for it.
That’s the only way to live.
Waiting for everything to align themselves is about the same as sitting back and watching the world pass you by. I’ve always been a firm believer in doing things a little at a time, over a long period of time. At least I’ll wind up somewhere different than where I began. Hopefully in a better place even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.
I’m pleasantly surprised at other opportunities that present themselves once I say yes to something else. Like my favorite book, The Alchemist, states, the universe conspires with you when you make an effort to pursue your dreams. The key is to keep pursuing them even when you’re temporarily dealt a bad hand.
As soon as I wished out loud to be part of a real film set, versus the spur-of-the-moment set where I shot my first short film, the universe granted my wish. Originally, I applied for the “Sound Mixer” position not really knowing what all it entailed. The only other open position was DP (Director of Photography). I learned back in undergrad that I didn’t have the “eye” to be DP. Besides, I’d edited several podcast episodes. All I knew was that the filmmakers, who shared director/producer titles, stated they would rent the equipment if the Sound Mixer didn’t have their own equipment–something I learned while on set to not be the usual case.
Fortunately, my mentor guided me in the right direction by providing a few videos and a blog. Until she did that, I truly thought I’d stroll up on set, dressed in all black, wearing hiking boots and a camelback without having done any research. Thank God I killed the camelback idea and brought a water bottle like a normal person.
The first thing I learned and immediately internalized was: early = on time; on time = late; and late = fired. Since my official title for this set was “Sound Shadow,” which, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have assumed was the latest comic book superhero, essentially meant I was an unpaid intern.
At least I didn’t have to pay for a class to gain this experience. As an undergrad, I’d worked on three student film sets. In that blind-leading-the-blind situation, none of them were at any level of professionalism as this movie set was. Regardless of my volunteer status, I still respected our mutual time and made the most of the opportunity.
The second lesson was an explanation of what “collaboration” means on set. As collaborative as both codirectors/coproducers, who I’ll refer to as A and C, announced they’d be on set, I’m happy I didn’t go with my original plan. Instead, I quietly approached the codirectors to ask a question or suggest something. That way, none of the actors overheard, which might have been confusing.
Plus, if one talks when things aren’t rolling, then they should do so quietly. I witnessed first hand how side conversations get out of hand. I found myself pulling a Ms. Roberson and gesturing two people on set to talk quietly. Given the lag time between takes, there was no way we’d all remain silent, but talking normally was too loud.
On the first day, I parked on the edge of the lawn among the other cars with a minute to spare from my call time (ie, late) and texted one of the codirectors/coproducers, C, about my arrival. I entered the house through a side door, nearest the line of carefully coiled cables–another thing the videos had reminded me: the over-under method to wrap most cables that would minimize damage and entanglement. C met me at the door with a big smile on her face and gave me a hug. (At least her eyes communicated “big smile” since her face was actually covered with a mask. Everyone on set had to show a negative COVID test that had been administered within 48 hours).
As I walked in, I met the Boom Operator, T.
For weeks I’d sung the phrase “boom operator” to the tune of Sade’s “Smooth Operator.” Took me mere seconds after our introduction to sing it to T. It had been my ear worm for a while, but I didn’t quite plant it in T.
Moments later, the Sound Mixer, J, arrived with an impressive amount of equipment, 12 years of filmmaking experience and a remarkably positive attitude for someone who wasn’t a morning person. The most golden nuggets of information I learned from him was that sound mixers were expected to own their equipment, and that he sometimes makes more money renting his equipment verses his labor rate. Although I’ve been a lifelong an emerging entrepreneur, my ears perked up when he talked about “rental.” There’s a standard package of sound equipment that filmmakers pay for. On top of that standard package, any additional needed sound equipment will be rented at a daily rate.
One of our producers/directors, A, bravely chose to shoot in and around her home.
I could have made a documentary just from the furniture alone. The piece that spoke to me the most was the Singer sewing machine that had been repurposed into a table. My maternal grandmother had a Singer. When I visited her, I’d sit down in front of the Singer and peddle. Not sewing, mind you, just idly peddling. Bonus: the set dog is in the picture. He was super chill for that many strangers doing strange things around his house.
I notoriously have cold fingers and toes even in warm weather.
For once, masking due to a pandemic worked in my favor because it kept my face warm. We purposely had open doors to keep fresh air flowing–fresh COLD air. Except for when I was eating or using the bathroom, I had gloves on whether I was inside or outside. The combination of post lunch, a comfortable beanbag and comfy coat and KA-BOOM! immediately transported T into a power nap. The headphones were such a nice touch for someone who confidently stated that she wouldn’t fall asleep.
At one point on the first day, T and I talked about me handling the boom when we were outside.
Yet, I didn’t want to be part of the reason why the shooting schedule got further behind. So, even though I never worked the boom for a scene, I miked the actors. Plus J told both T and I that whenever we were operating a boom, we should either fully extend our arms or have them bent and close to our ribcage in order to use our bones rather than our muscles. He summarized in this sound adage: “Muscles wear out; bones don’t.”
On Halloween 2021, I’d requested to read A’s script after she announced that she wanted to make a movie. Just get the dang thing done. Although I didn’t know her, I loved her confidence. Since it was a short film, I offered to read it and made three suggestions.
Fast forward to mid-February 2022, I was part of the crew. The first scene we shot implemented my first suggestion. To my joy, as the two-day shoot unfolded, I witnessed my other ideas implemented as well. That was my preproduction contribution. Being on set was a whole different animal, just seeing those words come to life through the interplay of crew and actors.
In the one screenwriting class I’ve taken, the instructor said that a film gets made three times: once when you write it, then when you shoot it, and finally when you edit it. Throughout the shoot, A kept thinking out loud about how to edit the story altogether. I didn’t envy her that, having to switch back and forth from director and editor.
On the second day of shooting while we were finishing up lunch, I looked at A and asked if filming in her house was everything she thought it be. Her nonverbal reaction, which ran from exasperation to optimistic smile, was something I wish I’d captured on film. Her practical answer saw the value of saving location fees. Another thing I wished I could have captured on audio: the other producer/director, C, commanding “Quiet on set!” Up until then, I’d never experienced her voice hitting the back walls.
The second day of shooting began outside, adding to the challenge.
Our location was near traffic and in the flight path of several planes/jets. I helped solve one challenge that day.
I’d noticed on the first day that a tablet, which was linked to the DP’s camera via an app, had to either be held or lie on some inconvenient surface. My solution? I removed all the painting paraphernalia from my music stand, which has not hardly had sheet music on it since a friend had gifted it to me years ago. Now I can add another nonmusical item to the list of things that have rested on that music stand.
Ever since I was offered the position of “Sound Shadow,” I wanted to illustrate it as a superhero. The moment I can use as inspiration occurred on the second day shooting while we were outside.
Our lead actress lost an earring. At one point, a handful of people were looking for it. Then, just the lead actress and another actress who had been in a scene with her were on their hands and knees still looking for the earring. My attention was on the shoot nearby, but from my peripheral vision, I saw them searching for the lost earring in the same patch of ground as if conducting an archeological dig. I carefully walked over, not wanting to accidentally step on it. Once the lead actress showed me what the earring looked like, I looked at the patch of ground in front of the chair where she’d sat, and squatted to examine the ground closer.
“Don’t hate me, but…” I held up the earring and handed it to the lead actress.
That’s precisely the types of wrongs that The Sound Shadow rights–small scale, huge sentimental value. Like a mysterious superhero, regardless of magnitude, I drove back to my lair once the shoot was over.
