Artist Residency Time Again

Posted By David Licata on September 2, 2010

Blue Mountain Center, Photograph by Jan MammeyFriday I leave for another residency, Blue Mountain Center. I’m very much looking forward to this one, and I’m a little bummed out that I will have to interrupt this month-long stint to return to NYC for A Life’s Work’s screening at IFP. It’s a good problem to have and I’m not complaining.

What do I hope to do at this residency besides play ping pong?

Continue editing. The sit down interviews are roughly edited, and that is the narrative spine.  Now I need to place the images over them. And I have a lot of images to choose from (105 hours worth)! The footage we shot since April, in Waco, Arcosanti, and the White Mountains, has been logged and is ready to be incorporated into this edit.

Blue Mountain Center has a strict no cell phone policy and internet only in a common area. This means I’m going to be taking a little break from the blog. But I’ve lined up bunch of guest bloggers that will offer their unique perspectives on the film or something related to the film. (If you want to write a guest post, leave me a comment and we’ll discuss.)

I hope to put up some photos from the residency, and I’m going to try to report from IFP as well.

Studio: photo by Jan Mammey.

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What a D.P. Sees

Posted By David Licata on August 31, 2010

I am always awed by how cinematographers see so much more than I do. We can be looking at exactly the same thing, the same angle, the same  frame, and they’ll register all sorts of details, big and small, on an initial viewing that I won’t see until I’ve viewed the footage they shot several times.

In July, cinematographer Andy Bowley and I went to Arcosanti to shoot some construction and conduct a follow-up interview with Paolo Soleri. Here’s what Andy saw through the viewfinder during the interview.

During David’s last interview with Arcosanti architect Paolo Soleri, I was struck by what I witnessed through the camera – something rare and powerful and surprising. Initially our interview clicked along in the usual way: director asks question, subject answers.

But halfway through, David asked Soleri how he maintained his motivation — and then went on to admit there were times when he had difficulty maintaining his enthusiasm for A Life’s Work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a director show such vulnerability to an interview subject during an interview. It was startling to me – a wonderful moment. But what put it over the top was Paolo’s silent reaction: he leaned forward to listen, smiling and avuncular and compassionate, and then went on to answer the question in the broadest philosophical terms anyone could imagine.

Soleri’s expression said so much to me about the relationship between the filmmaker and subject.  Sure they had been jousting all along – Paolo endlessly skirting David’s more personal questions, David dancing and jabbing as best he could, but underneath it all there was also a kind of artistic connection between them –  clearly (and wordlessly!) established during this one little moment.

It strikes me as such an important thing in any documentary: a nod to the audience, no matter how subtle, that there is a process going on. There are pointed cameras and hovering furry microphones, and most importantly a relationship, often rich and complex, evolving between the subject and the filmmaker.


 

Andy Bowley is a NYC-based cinematographer whose projects have won many national Emmys and one Peabody.

Andy’s other posts:

Charismatic Manhattan Pinecone Test

This Post Is For You, Gearheads!

Hardest/Easiest Work Environments So Far in 2010

E-mail Andy: a b o w l e y at  e a r t h l i n k d o t n e t

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In Case You’re Keeping Count…

Posted By David Licata on August 29, 2010

That’d be 105. Click here and here and here.

Other numbers:

8/16-18/2010.

Hours spent in a car and plane: 32.

Hours spent looking at, thinking about, filming trees at 10,000 feet or more altitude: 20.

Number of cameras lugged on trails (not including cellphone): 3 (Panasonic DVX 100, Canon Powershot A460, Polaroid SX 70).

Number of tall Americanos with 2% milk consumed: 3

Number of dorky hats lost to the wind: 1

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Prometheus, Older than Methuselah

Posted By David Licata on August 27, 2010

I became interested in including the Milarchs and Champion Tree Project in A Life’s Work after I read that they had cloned the Methuselah tree, a Bristle Cone Pine that is the oldest known living thing on the planet. In my interview with Jared Milarch, he mentioned a tree that was known to be older than Methuselah. Here’s a snippet of the interview and some recently shot footage of Bristle Cone Pines. The Methuselah tree is none of the images you’ll see; it was not videotaped.

YouTube Preview Image

Not so coincidentally, shortly after I returned from filming the trees my friend Starlee Kine hipped me to this Radiolab story about the Prometheus Tree, which according to the ring count (4,844 rings/years), was older than Methuselah. It begins about 14:30 in, but the whole show is good so why not listen to it in its entirety?

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Shoot Journal 8.18.2010

Posted By David Licata on August 25, 2010

August 18, 2010 – Inyo National Forest: Patriarch Grove

I had an idea that I’d capture the sunrise, which meant getting out of bed around 3am. But insomnia, exhaustion from the day before, and mostly not having spotted a good sunrise location on the 17th kept me in bed until 7am.

Glutes burned most of the morning, thankfully my back kept it together. Lunched on a rock overlooking Patriarch Grove – tuna from a pouch, almonds, banana, water, same as yesterday. I can’t say it was delicious, but it was satisfying.

Yesterday, early into the trek, I realized I needed to not just shoot interesting details of trees, but treat each tree like a character. Today I’ve taken this further and I’ve decided to name the individual trees when I log the footage. Clawhand. Halfdead. Coney. Gorgon. Skyscraper.

Altitude at  Patriarch Grove is 11,000 feet, and to my amazement, I didn’t get altitude sickness. Labored breathing when I had to walk up hill with the gear, but nothing beyond that.

I was going to pull some stills and create a slideshow for this page, but I decided instead to edit together a little sequence. Look for that in the next day or two.

But there should be images and sound, so I’ll share this. On heavy rotation in my head during this shoot day was All Flowers in Time Bend Toward the Sun, a duet  by Jeff Buckley and Elizabeth Fraser. Oh, Elizabeth Fraser, I don’t understand one word you sing, but what is it about your voice that makes my inner most being quiver? (The video isn’t much to look at; the song rips me to shreds every time.)

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Shoot Journal 08.17.2010

Posted By David Licata on August 24, 2010

August 17, 2010 – Schulman Grove, Inyo National Forest, CA

I did not die on the mountain.

Too busy working to be wowed by the trees. Or maybe I was in a constant state of wow?

Don’t think I worked my body this hard ever. Lots of trees. Four and 1/4 mile trail but backtracked to Methuselah Grove, location of the oldest living tree on the planet. (Not picture here.) Physically strenuous with all the stop-and-go, the rough terrain, the heavy and bulky gear, and mentally strenuous with all the looking and mental framing of shots. Thankfully, it wasn’t 100 degrees, more like 70, but the sun was strong at 10,000 feet.

When I made it back to the car after 10 hours on the desolate trail there was a bottle of warm water and an apple waiting for me. I downed the water. I bit into the apple. It was the most delicious apple I had ever tasted and I savored every bite. The fish and chips I ate at a restaurant in Bishop, however…

Here are some stills pulled from the video.


 

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Shoot Journal – 08.16.2010

Posted By David Licata on August 22, 2010

I don’t keep a daily journal, but I do keep shoot journals and editing journals. Here is an excerpt from the recent Bristle Cone Pine Forest shoot journal.

August 16, 2010

Travel day. Six hour flight to San Francisco, six hour drive to Bishop. I had done the math abstractly. Leave JFK at 8:15, arrive SFO  before noon. Arrive in Bishop, CA before sundown. But I hadn’t done the math plus the reality.

Now, on the plane, on this seemingly interminable flight (infant in front of me that won’t stop yammering the same sentence: “It’s pretty, mama!”) I’m beginning to wonder if my scheduling was sound. Should I have planned on spending the first night in SF and driving to Bishop the next morning? I’m beginning to wonder about the shoot. Expected highs in Bishop of 100 degrees. Altitude of 10,000 feet. Going solo and lugging the gear – tripod, camera, pack full of accessories and lunch and water. What was I thinking? I’m going to die on that mountain. Were all those jokes about not finishing the film in my lifetime more than jokes, were they prophetic?


 

I drive the rental car out of the lot and my mood shifts. Half way through the drive on 108 I hit Stanislaus National Forest and then Toiyabe National Forest. I’m driving on nausea-inducing winding roads through Ansel Adams photographs, but I’m not feeling sick. I’m excited again. I stop the car and take some photos. I drive by Mono Lake and then through Inyo National Forest as the sun sets. There is no time to scout.  I arrive in Bishop, check into my motel, get some Mexican food, and plan tomorrow’s day.

This will be a good shoot.

Next installment, Shoot Journal – 08.17.2010: The first day of shooting.

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Play Your Music to Me, Bristle Cone Pine Trees

Posted By David Licata on August 17, 2010

There is always Music amongst the trees in the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear it. Minnie Aumonier

In a previous post, you saw the books I looked at for research/inspiration for the bristle cone pine shoot. In that pile is the Edward Weston monograph, The Flame of Recognition, and in that monograph there is this photograph:

And on the opposite page is this from Weston’s day book: Whenever I can feel a Bach fugue in my work I know I have arrived.

I think this is a remarkable photograph.  I pray that on this trip I’m given the opportunity and awareness to capture an image that feels something remotely like a Bach fugue.

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The Contest Winner!

Posted By David Licata on August 15, 2010

Laura Bittman Ward submitted this e-mail written by her father. Laura explains:

My dad sends out an email every Thursday to a group of his old high school friends who he reconnected with at their 50th reunion a few years back.

My uncle Peter died last summer, he was only in his early 50s. He’d worked at a school in New Milford, and about two months ago they dedicated a tree to him, so this was the Thursday email my dad sent out about it.

Like my dad said, really, how many of us will ever have a TREE planted in our memory after we’re gone???

Thanks to Laura and her father for sharing this.

Mr. Pete’s Tree

On May 23, the students and teachers of The Gibb Elementary School of New Milford, NJ planted a tree in memory of my brother Pete. Today, July 8, is the anniversary of Pete’s passing, and I keep hearing his voice and seeing his sweet smile.

Life was not easy for Pete. Considering all he endured, Pete could have been a grumpy, cantankerous and sour guy All through his life he was hampered by bad legs, and his limitations affected his self-confidence…but not his sense of humor. Even when times were toughest, Pete found much to be happy about. His joy for life centered on his wife Eileen, his son Ryan, his family, his lifelong friends Billy and Joey, his pets and the many friends he made during his years in River Edge. In his final years, Pete also found peace and happiness in his role as the head custodian at the Gibb School, and as a member of the close-knit Gibb School family.

Pete was always good at making people laugh. If it wasn’t with a sly one-liner it was with the greeting cards that he found throughout the year and delivered for your birthday. Every July 7th, I knew I could count on receiving a thoroughly disrespectful yet hilarious card that Pete had discovered way back in January or February. He never failed to insult me with a card that made me laugh out loud.

Pete was a hard worker. When he began his job at the Gibb School, he quickly proved his ability to deliver more than anyone at the school expected. Always the first to arrive every day. Always available to handle any unpleasant chore. And always doing his job with a grin and a kind word or funny line. Within a year of his arrival at Gibb School, the kids had come to refer to him respectfully as “Mr. Pete.” The teachers followed suit and by the end of that first year, Peter had a large and growing fan club.

When Pete was first diagnosed with renal cancer and had to take a leave from his job for treatment, all the children and adults in the school rooted for his recovery and return. He came back to work after two months of radiation therapy. Then, for the next two years, although he was undergoing treatment with a drug called Sutent which often left him extremely tired and weakened, Pete almost never missed a day at work. On snowy days he was at the school before daybreak with his crew, working as hard as any crewmember to clear the walks and parking lot. Many days he had to fight through pain, exhaustion, and discomfort. But he never lost his smile or kind manner.

Two years before he finally had to stop working, Peter struck up a friendship with the new school principal. When the principal arrived to work on his first day at the job, he was in the school at 7:15 A.M.  Peter had been there for more than an hour and when he saw the new principal, he walked up to him and with that winning grin, welcomed the newcomer aboard. “Hi! You must be the new guy,” Pete said. From that moment on Pete and the principal were partners, working together to help, each in his own way, to make the Gibb School a great school.

I was late for the beginning of the tree planting ceremony. A massive traffic jam on Route 4 caused Rosary and I to arrive 15 minutes late. Thankfully, all the other members of our family arrived on time. As we scurried along to the school, we were greeted by the sight of 300 students, teachers, and parents who were gathered around the front of the school to honor “Mr. Pete.” Two of the fifth grade children, a girl and a boy, who had known Peter since their kindergarten days read speeches about the man they confirmed was always, “kind, funny, and peaceful.”  The boy spoke of a day when he noticed that Peter seemed to be very weak and was struggling to sweep the cafeteria floor. Sensing Peter’s dilemma, the boy grabbed a broom and pitched in to help Mr. Pete finish the job. Pete, it seems, was too choked up by the boy’s kindness to do anything but offer his sweet smile as a thank you.

The young and vibrant fifth grade teacher who helped plan the ceremony spoke of her first year on the job when Mr. Pete befriended her.  At the end of her first season, the teacher nervously awaited to hear from the principal, hoping with all her might that she had been hired for the next year. When the principal gave her the good news in his office, she danced down the hallway. Pete was coming the other way and seeing her brilliant smile exclaimed, “You got rehired, you’re coming back. That’s great.”

The ceremony on that bright spring day ended with each student from the three fifth grade classes bringing gifts of thanks to Mr. Pete. Each student in the three classes had painted a small rock in memory of Peter. The rocks were placed in a colorful circle around the base of the tree. My favorite is a rock with a portrait of Pete. In the portrait, Pete’s huge and beautiful blue eyes are all you see. You can see Pete’s soul in those kind eyes.

In years to come, Pete’s tree will grow. The messages on the rocks will slowly fade. And new generations of students will pass through the Gibb School. Some will see Pete’s tree and memorial and ask about him. One day, the teachers who knew Peter will also be gone. Perhaps from time to time, students who knew and cared about Pete will return –as we all do — to revisit “the old school.” Pete’s tree and memorial will be waiting for them, a loving reminder of a loving man.

Peter Bittmann was the best Bittmann of us all. I hope to visit his tree every year, happy to reaffirm that my baby brother, who left us too soon, touched many lives and was loved by all he touched. As the penultimate song of the Beatles iconic album “Abbey Road ” tells us, “And, in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”


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What Does This Filmmaker Read Before Shooting a Bunch of Old Trees

Posted By David Licata on August 14, 2010

Last call for the contest. Honest. This is it friends.

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