In the weeks leading up to the bike race, Richmonders were brainwashed into thinking we would be caught in stroke-inducing gridlock and mired in a sea of interlopers determined to keep us from work, doughnuts and beer. But there I was, heading directly to it. The next three days, although exhausting, would be some of the most exciting I’ve had in a long time in this town.
My Wyoming year began with a roll of film, two parents, wine, the Gatsbys, and a healthy dose of rural decay. The Gatsbys were an ungodly number of attractive, well-heeled people who decided to converge on the beautiful Pippin Hill Vineyard. Credit my mother for introducing me to the term, “well-heeled.”
It seems like a lifetime ago since I recorded this. 16 years to be exact. I remember after I finished mixing it down putting it on a CD for my father to listen to. He seemed to genuinely like it which meant a whole lot. Still does.
As I mixed the piece down with multiple listens, it didn’t necessarily fill me with glee and a sense of hope, but I did love the grotesqueness of it. This version is mixed 15 years after the fact with a much better processor and plugins so there’s a bit more clarity to all the gnarly bits.
This piece was the 4th part in a long exercise of stringing together stock loops along with samples I recorded. I couldn’t resist using a clip I recorded from the movie Donnie Darko because when looped, the ping-pong sound and wonderful choral soundtrack created the perfect foundation for the ensuing Jackson Pollock-style guitar overdubs.
If, like me, you insist on taking advantage of what film has to offer, you’ll probably need to look seriously at developing your film at home. Who knows – you might even like it!
I got there in less than 2 hours and then made it back in less than 2 hours. Driving home, I opted for the EZ Pass lanes and gave a steady 65 mph wave at the weary travelers to my right who were stuck behind the omnipresent accident. I’m not sure why they didn’t get over there with me. Maybe they’re unaware of the new rules? Whatever. More space for me!
It didn’t start out this way. I was all over the place. Looking this way, looking that way. Hair flying around with heels-six-inch-high, palms-to-the-sky energy. Disco lights were in my eyes – in my soul! My heart pounded with bass lines. Glitter flew around and dreaming became reality. Now, it would seem, I’m an absolute waste.
For a number of years, a guy named Lee Harris put together a Christmas album of music he wrote along with songs from fellow musicians. It was a lot of hard work getting the songs written in time, but always fun and a great excuse to record with people you probably would never have worked with otherwise.
This tree is a solid example of fractals in nature. And it was in a graveyard – even better. Maybe it signifies the never ending cycle of life on top of the Freemason’s plot it adorns? Maybe it shows us how no matter where you are on the tree, you’re at a brand new trunk/crossroads – no way to change how you got there, but with infinite possibilities ahead of you.
I discovered a hidden feature of that indiscriminate winding knob – the one that doesn’t tell you when to stop. You have to look through a little red-tinted window at the film’s backing paper to see when the next frame is lined up. But what if you don’t? What if you just wind a little bit then shoot again?