short film assignment-319 Eldert

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ye8EWkC5psY&feature=youtu.be

Blog #4

 The scene from the film 'Goodfellas' when Karen and Henry walk into the Copacabana club is one of my favorites. A steadicam follows their movement into the club's side entrance and through the kitchen, then down into the main dining area. The steady long shot that follows their progression through the interior of the club to their eventual seat near the stage focuses on the backs of Henry and Karen, while capturing all the hustle and movement of the clubs staff, first the bouncer/host, kitchen, then servers. Henry's interaction with the Copacabana staff is showcased here-the way that people relate to him conveys a certain level of status onto Karen, as he is trying to woo her.
In this scene, at 2:00, two of the servers carry in a table-creating a seat out of nowhere- literally rearranging the dining room for Henry and his date. The flourish of the white tablecloth and the quick display of above-and-beyond service is a testament to Henry's power, which Karen is dazzled and confused about. Later in the same scene, she asks what he does for a living, to which he replies "I'm in construction." She feels his presumably soft hands while musing "They don't feel like you're in construction." The camera moves quickly behind them, and lots of action and movement all at once and from all angles is captured during this short scene. The quick, breathlessness of the editing, and the angle of the camera-highlighting the staff's expressions and almost over-the-top displays of service upon Henry and Karen's entrance is very important to the film's plot.












https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Sr-vxVaY_M

sound project (late)

Blog #2

A Walk Around Bushwick

I started off on the corner of Eldert and Irving, paused and opened my ears. I could hear faint Bachata music coming from a car parked near Covert, someone's favorite song turned way up. As I turned to the left and began a pace, the Bachata music, fainter now and intercepted by a thumping base from a car driving past me. Almost on Halsey street, I could hear the sound of three men fixing cars, the wheels of a skateboard rolling back and forth and loud friendly greetings, the smell of gasoline blended with warm bacon/coffee smell wafting from Los Limones, the corner bodega. As I walked up the graffiti'd stretch of Halsey street, I heard clicking heels and loud headphones, and the lonely sound that a tire makes when it rolls along the pavement. I heard a mother chiding her toddler in Spanish, the sound of the L train below the ground, more Bachata music. As I turned left again onto Myrtle Avenue, I heard the honking of truck horns, more hellos, and wheels rolling across the street. I passed the shop that sells live chickens, heard men yelling and lots of very distressed clucking, the flapping of wings, and the steel sadness of the cages as they screeched open and closed. More thumping base as I approached Food Bazaar, my final destination. I heard shopping carts across the parking lots, car horns beeping, and finally the sliding of electronic doors and the beeping of electronic cash registers.

Define A Space

Artist Statement

ART MAN, ART.

What a glorious, exhausting, torturous possibility of being. The creation of art through any medium requires the artist to be brutally honest with himself. The creative impulse is innately human, and as a product of humanity’s multitudinous perceptions, art is subjective. The first meaning of art belongs to the artist before reveal invites interpretation and comparison. One of the most beautiful things about the creation and appreciation of art in our world is that art can’t be forced. Art that is supposed to come into being comes organically, it happens because it has to. Though some people are undoubtedly more “artistic”, I think we all house creative inclination. We are all capable of being inspired, art is part of a reverence for lived experience.

            As an artist, I work in words. Driven by an aching, giddy nostalgia, Writing poetry has been a very deep and honest way of understanding myself and how I relate to the world.  I avoid writing when I can’t stand the prospect of such clarity of thought and emotion.  I don’t create nearly as much as I would like to. I appreciate what I’ve written as a literary timeline marking the highs and lows of my life thus far. I would love to ban the writer’s block and emotional inhibition, release the words suppressed by the “grind”, the necessary monotonous bits of life.

The power of art as a thing comes from the emotion that it evokes, rather than whatever form or shape it might exist in. Art is ever-living, gifts of pain or bliss or fear bestowed by past generations.

A sunny disposition with alphabet soup problems

Women and Media SP2011: sunny disposition and alphabet soup problems; this...: Gosh, who am I? This kind of self-descriptive writing makes my palms sweat as I type. Providing a summary of self fills me with an odd pan...

post for medp384
2/2011