The hole in the bridge

So I had been hired to light the Hawthorne bridge in Portland, Oregon. The crew had cut a hole in the bridge to access the underside. They covered the hole with a grid made out of what seemed to be tubing from old TV antennas. I found a board and cover up the hole as well as I could but I still thought it was unsafe so I went in search of something else. I found myself at an old black man’s house. He took me downstairs to his basement workshop which had a window from which I could see the bridge. He gave me a couple of welding clamps and I found a bigger piece of plywood leaning against the side of the house. I went back to the bridge. I then began to think that the hole was only in my imagination so I climbed up on the bridge's superstructure. I then leapt towards the hole. As I approached the hole suddenly everything became sandy and yellow and the dream ended.

Water Slide

I am someplace in the United States. Someplace in Rhode Island I think. I am in a car but I seem to have an inflatable raft too. It is a beautiful day. I am in rural area. I see a man in another inflatable raft and he is floating in a muddy creek that is running very fast. I now too am in my raft and going down the creek. The creek cuts though a field of tall green grass. I pass a creek side mom and pop grocery store and come to rest on a muddy bank. I get out and realize I don’t remember where my car is. I seem to abandon the raft and begin walking. The road runs though beautiful rural landscapes. I eventually come to what I guess is tire store and see a short man dressed in a sort of loud suit. I ask him for a ride to my car and explain the raft trip. He tells me it happens all the time and says he will take me but alludes to the fact that he will need to be paid. I pull out a five dollar bill and he tells me he was glad it was five because he would have been disappointed if it were anything less. Somehow my dog Mac appeared. We get in his old station wagon and retrace route I followed to him. I see my car and wake up.

Approaching 10 million views...

I did a series of spots a few years ago for a Belgian phone company. They were rude, crude and lewd. Really. I loved them. We did 7 in 2 days. I shot them too. The budget was like 18 bucks. So this morning before the family awoke I was checking out a video on youtube that a friend sent me about this overly enthusiastic Korean drummer and for some reason on the little sidebar thing I see a frame from one of these spots. So of course always happy to see my work once again I click on it. OK I watch the spot and then I see that nearly... 10... million... people have seen it. Madre mia... friggin' hell...

So this brings up all sorts of issues... one... how can I get a piece of this... two... if 10 million people are looking at my work why do I feel so lonely... three... wouldn't it have been nice if the agency said good job little man, here's six pack of Belgian beer and we'll see you on the next one baby. See it here.

I am sure I will be yammer on about this in the near future. Like in 15 minutes or so.

Walter Ate a Peanut... the blog...

To track the joys and disasters of our short film "Walter ate a Peanut" we have set up a site here. It's early on but perhaps breathtakingly interesting to some. Forgive the left over html goo... it's my first day.

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Processions

I have to say that I am surprisingly moved by the processions. Last night we went to three. Basically what happens is that hundreds of people parade through the streets. Some wear the traditional garb of anominity which looks exactly like what the klu klux klan wear... which takes a little getting used to. The women all wear black dresses and mantillas, the traditional tall hair combs and lace veils that we all remember from "Ferdinand the Bull". Then there are the platforms with life size representations of Jesus and Mary which are carried by a bunch of guys who are hidden from view by an ornate cover and a band or two playing sad, funerial marching music that sounds like what you heard in the Godfather.

If you are lucky some will begin to sing an improvised song to the Virgin. The procession stops and all attention turns to the individual who just popped put of the crowd. As incense swirls the wailing rings out through the narrow streets. Tears are shed. Rosaries are clutched a little tighter. The singer makes his or her final plea and then dissappears into the crowd.

Many people touch the platforms as they pass by in hopes for good luck or good health. I have to admit that I did too.

I took lots of pictures. I will put them up on flickr as soon as I can.

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Sin part one

The Andalusians believe one must sin during the week so one can confess one's sins and repent on Sunday. We did it backwards by sinning on Sunday by having a 4 hour lunch of pinchos, carne a la brasa, pan con sal, couscous, chorizo, tomates, galletas americano, vino, cervesa, cafe... We finished up with a jam session featuring Evert and Fernando on Guitar and Pepe y yo on harmonicas... 2 harmonicas? Si!!!