A Quote from Antoni Gaudi

Sagrada Familia

Sagrada Familia, the cathedral that has been under construction in Barcelona since 1882, has a special place in my heart. I briefly considered including it in A Life’s Work. (Here’s why I didn’t.) But that’s not what this post is about. This post is about a quote.

When asked to comment on how long the cathedral would take to construct, its architect, Antoni Gaudí said, “My client is not in a hurry.”

If you’re interested, you can head over to Extra Criticum for my review of a new documentary, Sagrada: The Mystery of Creation, directed by Stefan Haupt.

Sagrada: The Mystery of Creation

 

Conversation with Aimee Madsen, Director of “Paolo Soleri: Beyond Form”

Aimee Madsen's Beyond Form

In January 2012 I interviewed filmmaker Aimee Madsen for the blog. Aimee was conducting a Kickstarter campaign for her film, then titled Before Form. As she summarized it in that interview, “the film presents a fresh look at the legendary and multi-talented man Paolo Soleri, known as an artist, craftsman, architect, urban theorist, and finally a visionary, a term he’s not so fond of.  Although the philosophy behind Paolo’s work seem to be the driving force in his life, it will focus instead on Soleri as the form giver, rather than Soleri, the idea giver — hence the working title Before Form.” A lot has happened since 2012, including a title change. The film is now called Paolo Soleri: Beyond Form. Here ‘s our a follow-up conversation.

Last time we did this you were crowdfunding for post. How did that go?

We were successful, even with the cut-off date being near Christmas, I remember people were still wanting to donate up until the very end, that felt good! It was an excellent learning experience as far as making sure you budget your film to include all the facets of distribution, which we could have calculated a little better than we did, but it definitely helped us to finish the first cut and Iʼm grateful for that.

Beyond Form by Aimee MadsenSo the film is doing the festival rounds. You must be very pleased? Are you traveling with it?

Yes, itʼs been very encouraging to be able to show the film in Scottsdale AZ, Tucson, AZ, Florence, Italy, Bologna Italy, and making the selection for the very first Architectural Film Festival in Lisbon, Portugal was an exciting time. Our next screening will premiere in downtown LA at the Regal Theater for the La Femme Film Festival, Oct. 20th, 2013.

So in a sense Iʼm traveling with the film, itʼs going where people want it to go, without having to do much of the steering.

You left a Facebook comment that really struck a chord:

“It’s really a gift to have a chance to make a film that has another purpose, a larger purpose,larger than myself, larger than the filmmaker …”

Care to elaborate?

Because not only is this the case when you make a documentary, hopefully, but because this film involves a high profile person, who has a huge message that was made years ago and is very timely now. It seems people are finally ready to listen, even eager to take a closer look at Paolo Soleri. Also there are many people that this subject has touched since 1946 that are still moved by his work to this day and want to see his ideas continue and go even further. Generally the nature of documentaries are to enlighten, teach, move and inspire others to act or create. At least thatʼs what motivates me to make a film and the story of Soleri is quite the challenge, because it includes many diverse audiences from all over the world to target, or maybe thatʼs the gift. I have a feeling this is something you might be able to relate to. Am I right?

Yep. It’s a great joy when you discover that your film is doing something you didn’t expect or plan it to do. While I was making  Tango Octogenario I kind of  knew that it would appeal to a certain demographic. It was a romantic film with a positive message about enduring love and the curative powers of art. But after one of the first screenings, I went out to dinner and the waitress recognized me from the q&a. She was sort of a hipster in her early twenties and she said that it reminded her of her grandparents who used to go dancing on the weekends, and how she could smell their perfume while watching the film. I was stunned speechless. And since that screening, many people have come up to me and told me the film reminded them of their grandparents. They’re moved by it, I’m moved that they’re moved. It’s a beautiful moment. 

 Paolo Soleri died in April 2013. I was hoping I’d be able to show him a finished version of A Life’s Work. I’m still processing his death and wrote about it here. Were you able to show him Beyond Form before he died, and what affect did his passing have on you? 

The edit was done and the film was ready to have its first screening one week before he died, so that was a very bittersweet moment. He only got to see the trailer. I think if I wasnʼt holding a camera and filming Paolo up until the end, it would have been harder on me, his death, if I didnʼt witness him aging through the lens first. When he realized he was never going to be able to get around as he used to, that was a turning point for me and of course for everyone close to him. Just as he worked the earth with grace, he aged the same way, very naturally. A day or so before he died, I did have the chance to tell him thank you for allowing me to photograph him all those years … so that was an emotional time, very bittersweet to say the least …

Thanks, Aimee.

Look for Paolo Soleri: Beyond Form at a film festival near you.

Nothing Lasts Forever

Yes, it’s true. Nothing lasts forever. There will always be nothing. Even stars die. And eventually, all the stars in the universe will turn into black holes and no new stars will be forming and the universe will succumb to “heat death.” And the universe will be nothing. Forever. But that’s quite a number of years from now, so let’s not dwell on it.

What brought this on, you ask?

Tango OctogenarioTango Octogenario existed on the Reel 13/Reel New York website. It was a nice showcase for the film and included a print and video interview with yours truly. It was up there for seven or eight years, a nice run, but Channel 13, New York City’s PBS station, recently redesigned their website and now it’s gone. Some believe that once something is on the internet it’s there forever, just waiting for someone to type a keyword so that it can pop up on a screen. Your entire history, your good deeds, your transgressions, all of it, accessible in an instant.  I’m here to tell you  this is not always so.

Nothing lasts forever, and though it saddened me that Tango is no longer online, and I didn’t enjoy updating the links on the blog and the website, maybe that’s how it should be.

 

 

 

 

“I must have more shots of the military!”

I’ve been editing a section of A Life’s Work that relies on some archival footage, so I’ve been searching and watching and thinking and searching and watching and cutting. A new post about archival footage coming soon, but here’s one I wrote back in 2009. Think of it as Archival Part I.

[The title of this post if from Tim Burton’s Ed Wood.]

Edward D. Wood, Junior
Edward D. Wood, Junior

I share with Ed Wood a fondness for stock footage. There, I hope, the similarities end. In fact, I don’t even like to call it stock footage. I prefer to call it “archival.”

I think it goes back to when I was in high school and my history teacher included some AV as part of a lesson on the Great Depression: “Brother Can You Spare a Dime.” Here was a voice singing about poverty and desperation, traveling over time and space, and punching me in the gut in 1978.

And that’s how I like to use archival. It’s evident in the SETI clip and the redwoods clip. That footage of redwoods being felled (from The Redwood Saga) looked a lot differently to people in 1940 when those images were first seen than it does to people now. Then it was a sign of progress: those trees were being used to build an America that was economically growing. Watching it now it seems like a mass execution. With the Soleri clip I posted I didn’t do that, not exactly. There I wanted to show Frank Lloyd Wright’s L A R G E presence; interviews you see or read with Soleri invariably begin with an introduction that includes his apprenticeship with Wright, and in Dome House you see Wright everywhere, except, as Soleri points out, in the table.  (In another Soleri section I use archival extensively to show the passing of time.)

I also have a feeling that when I’m using archival and home movies I’m working with found objects and incorporating them into a bigger canvas. I’m repurposing, in a sense, and I like that.

I’ve been thinking a lot about archival these days because I’m about to edit some new footage–the Black Gospel Music Restoration Project sections of the sample. These sections will add about eight minutes to the sample, which will bring it in at 35 minutes. It is now beginning to look more like a film than a sample.

But how to use it to advance Robert Darden and the BGMRP’s stories, and of course A Life’s Work as a whole? What footage do I choose? Where do I place it? How much? If I use gospel performance footage, what performer(s), which song(s), from when during the golden age? Big questions. Some of them have obvious answers, others don’t.

But finding answers to those questions is an exciting part of the process, and I’m grateful that I’ll have a chunk of time to examine those questions.

More on that chunk of time in the next post.

Films for a More Serene You

Serenity Now!

I remember reading the review of Terence Malick’s adaption of the James Jones WWII novel, The Thin Red Line. I think the review was favorable, I don’t recall, it was so long ago, but I do remember one word the film critic used: “meditative.” I also remember thinking, that’s code for boring! Still, being a Malick fan at the time, I decided I’d try it. It turned out to be one of the more powerful movie-going experiences I had in my life.

The first half of the film focuses on AWOL Private Witt roaming around an idyllic Pacific Island ruminating about man’s place in the universe. The shots of the landscape, flora, and fauna are spectacular, and these scenes are indeed meditative, in the very best sense of the word. What made the film so powerful was how Malick obliterated that state of mind with the battle scenes that make up the rest of the film. All of that precious beauty we enjoyed earlier? Destroyed. All the noble musings by Private Witt replaced by the brutal actions of war. I was in tears when the U.S. troops stormed the hill and everything and everyone started getting blown to bits.

That kind of juxtaposition doesn’t  happen in A Life’s Work, but I don’t shy away from telling people I intend the film to be a meditative experience. If after watching the film viewers come away feeling like they’ve meditated, I’d be one happy camper.

So, if  you need to recover from the adrenaline rush of the summer blockbusters — all those exploding cities, buildings, cars, and bodies — and you’re perhaps looking for a film that’s a little more … contemplative, I have a few recommendations for you. But first, here’s a minute of calm for you, courtesy of us here at A Life’s Work Central.

[vimeo]https://vimeo.com/17897932[/vimeo]

Just about anything from Yasujiro Ozu (good starters include Tokyo Story, Late Spring, and Early Summer). Ozu made the same film over and over: quiet, understated family dramas with characters who do not express themselves in a typical Western fashion. The big moments happen off-screen — weddings and deaths, notably — and what we see are the moments in between, the moments we call life: waiting for the train, commuting to work, sitting down to dinner. The most dramatic ending you’ll see in an Ozu film is a character peeling an orange and the peel falling to the floor. It doesn’t sound like much, but in the context of the rest of the film, it’s just as moving as the first battle scene in The Thin Red Line.

Still Walking: A family convenes on the anniversary of the eldest son’s death. Director Hirokazu Kore-eda’s tribute to Ozu (there’s even an Ozu-like shot of a train), the drama here is more ramped up than in an Ozu film, and a character cries, but mostly its quiet, lovely, and melancholy. A contemplation on family dynamics and mortality.

Spirit of the Beehive: Made during the waning days of Generalissimo Francisco Franco’s dictatorship and set during the dawn of his power, this film combines sneaky elision, poetic imagery, and gorgeous cinematography to cast its spell. Shots linger and an air of mystery pervades every scene. I love this film so much I’ve written about it twice for Extra Criticum, here and here.

Heart of Glass: In a Bavarian village in the late 18th century, a glassmaker dies and takes to his grave the secret of his world-renowned and town-sustaining ruby glass. The glass factory owner goes mad trying to discover the formula. And as he goes, so too goes the village. Nothing special there. Except iconoclastic director Werner Herzog decided he would hypnotize the actors before they went before the camera, resulting in a dreamlike, hell, down right somnambulistic film. (You can read my review of the book Every Night the Trees Disappear: Werner Herzog and the Making of Heart of Glass on Filmmaker Magazine‘s website.)

Into Great Silence: Director Philip Gröning spent six months in a monastery in the French Alps filming Carthusian monks, who live isolated from the rest of the world and have taken a vow of silence. No commentary, no music, no effects and shot using only ambient light. We see the daily lives of the monks and a LOT of prayer. The film is so immersive at one point I got up from it without pausing, made a yogurt and fruit concoction, and returned to the film feeling not only guiltless about leaving it, but as if in the preparation of my snack I was in some way taking part in the monk’s daily routine.

Sweetgrass: An austere documentary about modern-day shepherds in Montana as they lead their flock to pasture. The big dramatic moment is a shepherd on his cellphone having a freakout about his loneliness and how much he hates his obstinate sheep. I confess when I watched this film I wasn’t in the mood for it, and it still won me over.

Andrei Rublev: Andrei Tarkovsky. Oh, I can see a certain someone rolling his eyes, but like Into Great Silence, you need to be ready for a different kind of cinematic experience. Andrei Rublev is an invented biography of a 15th century monk and icon painter. It  checks in at 205 minutes, and you COULD watch watch it in a few sittings since the film is broken up into seven distinct chapters, but to appreciate its knock-out ending you really should set aside an evening. And be prepared to be transported to medieval Russia.

Tender Mercies: One of my all time favorite films. Like Ozu’s films, Tender Mercies avoids the big moments. People get married but we don’t see the wedding, people die in a car accident but we’re nowhere near the wreckage. We are at the wake, however, something Ozu wouldn’t show. (Significantly, the big life event we do see is the former country singing star’s baptism.) It’s all small moments, beautifully directed and acted. Screenplay by Horton Foote, directed by Bruce Beresford, and starring Robert Duvall in a performance that’s a study in brilliant understatement.

Thoughts? Care to share your favorite, blood-pressure lowering films? Leave a comment.

Reality vs. Art(ifice)?

Recently I came across these two videos within 12 hours.

Blast Off

On a Saturday night, I watched ” a movie from the point of view of the Solid Rocket Booster with sound mixing and enhancement done by the folks at Skywalker Sound. The sound is all from the camera microphones and not fake or replaced with foley artist sound.” (From the Youtube page.)

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aCOyOvOw5c[/youtube]

And Now Saturn

Sunday morning, this was brought to my attention: “”Waltz Around Saturn with this video showing highlights from Cassini’s exploration of the giant planet, its magnificent rings, and fascinating family of moons.” (From the Vimeo page.)

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/70532693[/vimeo]

Though these two films involve space their intent is very different. The booster rocket film creates a sense of awe because of its reality; the Saturn charms us because it uses spectacular images in an artful way. To compare them is to compare apples and oranges.  And I don’t mean to compare them, but I would like to express why I prefer one more than the other. After all, many of us prefer one fruit over another, right?

I Prefer Apples

I’ve watched the booster rocket film several times. I barely made it through one viewing of the Saturn film. The booster rocket film shows me a new vantage point, takes me to a place I’ve never been, and tells a story. Blast off, ascent, descent, splashdown. It’s a ride like no other. The Saturn film is more experimental and relies on the novel use of images, editing, and the music of Shostakovitch. I don’t feel like I’m seeing Saturn in a different way, or at all, actually; I feel like I’m watching someone play with a bunch of images. The maker is more concerned with creating a piece of  Art.  And that’s fine.

But for me, the booster rocket film is a fine five-course meal, the Saturn film is cotton candy.  Not that there’s anything wrong with cotton candy, it has its place, but most of the time I’d  rather have that fine five-course meal.

What do you think? Is the Saturn film light and fluffy like cotton candy? Is the booster film tasty and nutritious? And which film do you prefer?

 

 

Letting Go: The Last Picture Show and Me

Here’s my favorite scene from one of my favorite films, The Last Picture Show.

At 56 seconds in, one long take begins. In the DVD extras director Peter Bogdanovich talks about  how the weather blessed him for this shot. As Ben Johnson delivers his monologue and the camera dollies in, the light changes.  In the extras Bogdanovich tells us the sun came through a sky that had been overcast the whole rest of the day at the most opportune time. Then the camera dollies out and the light changes again, the sky is overcast, again at an appropriate point in the monologue. He was amazed at his luck.

At 3:08 there’s a cut to a lake for 4 seconds or so — Ben’s pov and Bottoms voice over — and then we’re back on Ben delivering the rest of his monologue.

Bogdanovich also tells us, with more than a little disappointment, about that cut. He intended the monologue to be one long take, but Timothy Bottoms didn’t deliver his line in that first, light-changing take. (Bogdanovich was not pleased with Bottoms that day, and he says the actor claimed he didn’t forget his line, that he was just thinking.) They shot it again, but of course the sun didn’t cooperate that time and the take wasn’t nearly as good.

It is obvious that even 30-odd years later, when the extras were shot, the director wishes Bottoms had delivered his line as rehearsed and that he had that one long take.

As a viewer  I watch the scene above and I don’t care one bit about that cut. The beauty of the monologue, Ben Johnson’s face, his delivery, Timothy Bottom’s attention, the composition, the length of the take, the dolly in, the change in light, the dolly out, it makes for such a powerful  and almost overwhelming scene that I don’t notice that cut at all. This scene  takes my breath away, and  the knowledge that it might have been better (at least to the director) doesn’t detract from the finished product. When I watch it, I see a perfect scene.

As a filmmaker, a few things about this story resonate with me.

Paul Albe welcomes Trip Cullman into his office in 8 1/2 x 11.
Paul Albe welcomes Trip Cullman into his office in 8 1/2 x 11.

One lesson I learned when I was making 8 1/2 x 11 came from the sound designer. I was having a melt down about some sound issue. He told me to relax, it would all be taken care of by the competent post production people involved. And in so many words he said  that there are things directors obsess about that sound people don’t sweat at all. And what my meltdown was about was one of those things. And he was right, everything worked out fine. Lesson still learning: letting it go in the heat of the moment.

Another. When I watch Tango Octogenario now… actually, I can’t watch it now (though I still enjoy hearing the music), all I see are mistakes and what ifs. The biggest what if is the location. I was probably $1,000 dollars shy of renting out a truly spectacular location, one that I thought was perfect for the film, and so every time I’ve seen the finished  film, I think how much better it could have been had I used the other location. $1000. C’mon! I could have come up with that! Lesson still learning: letting it go after the fact.

 

darden_imperfect01I’m hoping to bring these two lessons into A Life’s Work, but it’s difficult. The film is far from finished and already I’m obsessing over stuff no one will notice and full of regrets.

Kooky, right?

[cross-posted on Extra Criticum]

 

Apocalypse, Now? Serenity Now! A Clip

Apocalypse, Now!

The other night I was on the subway, on the way to meet with filmmaker Peter Olsen, who is directing a jaw-droppingly beautiful documentary The Singing Wilderness about nature writer Sigurd Olson, when a man of about thirty-five sat next to me. He put his earbuds in, took out his portable Playstation, and began playing some first person, military shoot ‘em up game. (I’m not a gamer at all.) I looked at the tiny monitor as his digital self found cover behind walls and blasted away at his digital nemesis. The more kills, the more a veil of red dripped down from the top of the screen. Then he’d get shot, the screen would go black, and he’d start again. It was compelling, but as I watched I could feel my pulse begin to race. I turned away and stared at the ads above the seats.

Ozu, Again!Ozu - Serenity Now!

I was reminded of something I heard Roger Ebert say about the films of Yasujiro Ozu. It went something like this: when Roger comes out of a Hollywood action film he feels wired and adrenalized and maybe even a little uneasy. (Okay, the uneasy bit is me.) But when he’s finished watching an Ozu film he feels like he’s been meditating. He feels refreshed. Calmed.

Serenity, Now!

Earlier in the day, I received a comment and two emails regarding the How to Hug a Tree post. All were about the video.

The commenter wrote:

Perfect clip to illustrate how much we can get from nature just because it’s beautiful.

One  emailer, who shall remain nameless, wrote:

It’s lovely. My pulse slowed a little. A little beauty in a drab cubicle. Thanks for that.

And the other emailer, guest blogger Jessica Roth, wrote:

I enjoyed that clip of you hugging that tree. My first thought when I watched it was: David, you dirty hippy. And my next thought was: I really need to step outside and feel that tree that grows on the far side of my fence.

These made my day because these are very much the responses I hope A Life’s Work provokes.

And sitting on the subway next to the guy who was slaying the enemy, I wondered, would he respond that way to A Life’s Work? Would he even see it? Would it even be on his radar?

So, am I preaching to the converted (and a small number of converts at that, but that’s something else altogether)? And isn’t the person who might benefit the most from this film the guy who sat next to me on the subway?

Here now, for you guy who sat next to me on the subway, a meditative moment we (that is, Wolfgang Held) shot at Arcosanti. I hope it lowers your pulse and inspires you to put down the console, maybe do something like take a pottery class, or just feel the bark of a tree. That’s a lot to ask, I know, but a man can dream.

[vimeo]http://vimeo.com/17897932[/vimeo]

Cross-posted on Extra Criticum

Sweet Briar College – Guest Artist, The Guy Making A Life’s Work

I did my stint as guest artist at Sweet Briar College and I’m happy to report that it went very well. After consulting with the teacher, Paige Critcher, we decided it might be more beneficial if I showed my earlier, shorter work. Showing the 36-minute sample didn’t seem like the best use of a one-hour class where I was supposed to talk about where ideas come from, how to make your first film, etc. So it went a little something like this ….

Sweet Briar College Students
Sweet Briar College Students Watch 8 1/2 x 11.

 

8 ½ x 11: First Film, Film School

I showed 8 ½ x 11 and gave my spiel: the inspiration for the screenplay, how I found cast and crew, and how making that film was very much my film school. I was a little anxious, because I have shown this film, which is about going on job interviews, to college students and it’s fallen flat—they couldn’t relate to the experience. But these Sweet Briar College students got the joke and laughed at all the appropriate places.

Tango Octogenario: Second Film, Unlike the First

I then introduced Tango Octogenario, telling them that I wanted to challenge myself and make something very different from the first film. Here again, they totally got it, and I heard someone say at the end, “So sweet.” I liked that.

After Tango screened, we spoke about the challenges that film presented and how different it was from 8 ½ x 11. Then …

A Life’s Work: My Life’s Work (so far)

The hour was going by quickly, so we showed the trailer for A Life’s Work. After that, one of the students asked me an excellent question, one I had never been asked before. “When you’re preparing to interview someone, how do you know that you’ve accumulated all the questions you should ask?”

Kind of a stumper, isn’t it? I said you really don’t know, not until it’s too late. But I usually interview people at least twice, over a span of some time, so I have time to go over the transcript and if I see that I missed a question or an opportunity for a follow up, then I’ll ask that next time.

It was a great experience, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. In fact, next time I’m at VCCA (if I’m so lucky), I will try to do it again.

Special thanks to Sheila Gulley Pleasants of VCCA for connecting me with Paige Critcher at Sweet Briar College. Extra special thanks to her awesome students. 

 

Los Straitjackets and Yasujiro Ozu

Los Straitjackets

Rerunning this because tonight I’m seeing Los Straitjackets (no Pontani Sisters) in Brooklyn, NY. Very much looking forward to it.

I recently saw Los Straitjackets perform (with special guests the World Famous Pontani Sisters, a burlesque act) here in NYC. I’ve seen them several times before and they always manage to entertain. But somewhere in the middle of one of Eddie Angel’s face-melting guitar solos the brilliance of Los Straitjackets struck me.

Angie Pontani and Pete of Los Straitjackets
Art by Rita Flores.

Los Straitjackets, in case you don’t know, play instrumental guitar-based music, mostly 60s surf style music and don Lucha Libre masks. Let’s put the masks aside and concentrate on the surf music.

Surf music has a very specific vocabulary, and honestly, that vocabulary is not very extensive, one might even say it’s simple. But Los Straitjackets recombine that vocabulary in fun and exciting ways, and they’ve been doing it for years! Each song sounds familiar, sounds like it might actually be coming at you from the mid 1960s, but not quite. The songs they cover retain their essence, but contain novel, and often humorous, elements. One schizoid solo by Eddie alternated between loud, messy Sonic Youth-style noise and jazz-flavored bits of “Maria” and “Somewhere” so tasty it made me want to weep.

So, there I was in the back of the Highline Ballroom, face melting from Eddie’s solo, thinking about how the band does so much with this limited vocabulary, when my mind made a leap to Yasujiro Ozu.

Ozu made essentially the same understated family drama over and over, and he did it with a simple, but non-Hollywood, cinematic vocabulary. His eyelines are “off,” he elides dramatic high points such as weddings and funerals, he breaks the 180-degree rule, “crossing the line” at will. His films tend to blur in my memory and they have a sameness to them, in part because he cast the same actors in many of his films. But despite the sameness, each film is distinctive, and in each film there’s usually one moment -— an exchange of subtext rich dialog, a reaction, an expression, a sigh — that will rip your heart out.

Los Straitjackets and Ozu do not blow you away with star power, expensive pyrotechnics, or groundbreaking experimentation. You will not listen or watch and say, “Wow, I’ve never heard/seen such a thing!” Here’s the music, it’s fun to listen to and move to, here’s the story, it’s universal and profound. And though they are both straight up, they are also not exactly mainstream. You will not hear a Los Straitjackets song on commercial radio, though you will hear them in commercials and on certain soundtracks, you will not see an Ozu film on primetime anywhere, though his films are revered by filmmakers and critics and Tokyo Story is on several “best films of all time” lists.

And so what does this have to do with A Life’s Work? I want this documentary to be hanging out with Los Straitjackets and Ozu, that’s all.

Here’s a video of Los Straitjackets doing a song from the soundtrack of Psycho Beach Party. It comes close to capturing them live. And Danny Amis, you were missed.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ls9-smAgSRI[/youtube]

Thanks to Rita Flores for letting me use the image in this post. You can view more of her great work here.

[color-box color=”gray”]

What’s A Life’s Work about? It’s a documentary about people engaged in projects they won’t see completed in their lifetimes. You can find out more on this page.

We recently ran a crowdfunding campaign and raised enough to pay an animator and license half of the archival footage the film requires. We need just a bit more to pay for licensing the other half of the archival footage, sound mixing, color correction, E&O insurance and a bunch of smaller things. When that’s done, the film is done! It’s really very VERY close!

So here’s how you can help get this film out to the world. It’s very simple: click the button…

Donate Now!

… and enter the amount you want to contribute (as little as $5, as much as $50,000) and the other specifics. That’s it. No login or registration required. Your contribution does not line my pocket; because the film is fiscally sponsored by the New York Foundation for the Arts, all money given this way is overseen by them and is guaranteed to go toward the completion of this film. Being fiscally sponsored also means that your contribution is tax-deductible. So why not do it? The amount doesn’t matter as much as the fact that you’re helping to bring a work of art into the world. And that, I think, is really exciting!

Questions? Email me at d a v i d ( aT } b l o o d o r a n g e f i l m s {d o t] c o m[/color-box]