the parameters were "something intelligent"
We all make mistakes, whether it is from exposing your film in the darkroom to relationships.
While we twist and turn regretting the perspective of the frame we shot, we must stop to recognize the good that it has done for the future.
Now we know directors chose their angles for a certain reaction, emotions, feelings to communicate to the viewers, but who knows how many tries it took.
As an artist, I learned the following this semester;
1) Test all angles with whatever you have.
2) Everything in life takes time. Even the simple things have a process that affects the next.
3) Even though you’re new to something, if its right- the shoe will fit comfortably.
So by all means test limits for the greater, but not ones that will have you kicking yourself.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
What I hear..
these air molecules must be disturbed
The scuffle of the jeans as they drag along the pavement is easily neglected by the sounds of the neighborhood.
As the birds chirp, car engines and passing trains overpower their orchestra.
The wind is blowing, allowing the chimes to quietly do their job.
The wind should not have to wrestle with the cloud of smoke blown abruptly by the stressful worker.
As he sighs loudly.
Seems like the fast moving cars and the people moving swiftly, brushing their jackets against one another, are competing in some sort of race.
All these conversations are taking places in different languages, such as Hebrew, Indian, Russian, and Spanish, allowing me to know that I am definitely in New York.
Their voices rise, shouting over the obnoxious honking (which are in various patterns and pitches)
and passing trucks (as if they are carrying various metal pieces that keep sliding from side to side).
Perhaps the woman does not want to hear the catcalls from the men across the street, so she intentionally turns her music up.
the cellar creeks open, workers are bringing boxes upstairs,
THUMP!
hope they didn’t crack any bottles, as the glass hit the cardboard walls, while being dropped to the ground.
Good thing their boss is too busy counting money
being scraped out from the plastic holding it in the register, then easily sliding from one hand to his other.
his coins are colliding, reuniting with their match.
The sounds of ventilation of the numerous pizza stores on each block allow me to verify that this area is
Brooklyn.
The scuffle of the jeans as they drag along the pavement is easily neglected by the sounds of the neighborhood.
As the birds chirp, car engines and passing trains overpower their orchestra.
The wind is blowing, allowing the chimes to quietly do their job.
The wind should not have to wrestle with the cloud of smoke blown abruptly by the stressful worker.
As he sighs loudly.
Seems like the fast moving cars and the people moving swiftly, brushing their jackets against one another, are competing in some sort of race.
All these conversations are taking places in different languages, such as Hebrew, Indian, Russian, and Spanish, allowing me to know that I am definitely in New York.
Their voices rise, shouting over the obnoxious honking (which are in various patterns and pitches)
and passing trucks (as if they are carrying various metal pieces that keep sliding from side to side).
Perhaps the woman does not want to hear the catcalls from the men across the street, so she intentionally turns her music up.
the cellar creeks open, workers are bringing boxes upstairs,
THUMP!
hope they didn’t crack any bottles, as the glass hit the cardboard walls, while being dropped to the ground.
Good thing their boss is too busy counting money
being scraped out from the plastic holding it in the register, then easily sliding from one hand to his other.
his coins are colliding, reuniting with their match.
The sounds of ventilation of the numerous pizza stores on each block allow me to verify that this area is
Brooklyn.
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