Wednesday, 25 March 2015
Look Around You
--
Felt in the mood for a quick writing exercise - look at the people around me at work and type up quick descriptions of them. I've changed the names (like they'll ever read this but whatever).
Might do some more tomorrow.
--------------------
I looked around the room at the rows of silent people typing away, and
observed them.
Closest to me was Troy, a data analyst who spent the better
part of his day opening and closing windows on his computer in such a hurry it
looked as if he was perpetually searching for something among the countless
excel spreadsheets that cluttered his computer. He always had a notebook open
on his desk, on which he would scribble graphs and equations which I could
never understand. It was hard not to assume his mind worked more like some sort
of machine, but if it did, it was something far more along the lines of Rube
Goldberg. His speech was stuttered and fragmented at the best of times; it was
as if he could not quite choose which sentence to say first, and usually ended
up saying all of them at once. I quite enjoyed talking to him. Beneath the innumerable
strings of thought I always imagined rained down Matrix-style in his mind was a wry sense of humour, although one
not quite apparent at first. His angular face and flurry of curled hair reminded
me of something between Benedict Cumberbatch and Woody Allen, and gave him
something of a sombre expression.
Next to him were the two customer support officers – Raghad and
Ashan – who would take staggered lunches so someone was always by the phones.
Their routines were frequently in this vein and in all my time here I never saw
a moment when one of them wasn’t at the desk. Raghad was tiny – a short woman
with a thin frame who frequently wore large scarves, possibly as a way to not
entirely disappear from three dimensions. She always sat on her chair with her
legs tucked under her and again, I could never help but wonder if that for
height reasons. She was kind and funny and seemed to never run out of favours
to ask me, although all this did was hide a ferocious side that she frequently let
out online, usually in the forms of social justice articles written for various
magazines – a fact that surprised me when I first discovered this. What Raghad
was Ashan was not. Well, actually, he was as friendly as his co-worker but
while her tiny frame contained an energetic streak, he moved slowly and
deliberately with the sort of precision of someone who’s done the same actions
for quite some time and had no interest in changing anytime soon. His social
life was a mystery, at least to me, but his choice of cult film t-shirts gave a
strong clue as to what he did.
------------
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
INT. Bedroom, evening.
--------
The scene lingers for a few moments on the quiet, darkened room of BASIL BARADARAN. The main source of light is a tall, precariously bent desk lamp, the sort that makes you think briefly of the Pixar logo. It emits a warm glow to the otherwise black room.
Hunched over the desk, silhouetted against the orange glow in front of him, Basil sits at the desk. He thinks about what to write. He types a few words, considers them, and then deletes them. A minor stroke of inspiration hits, and his face lights up. Silently, he cracks his knuckles, hurriedly types several lines on his keyboard and, with the sort of grunt that is more associated with manual work and heavy lifting and most certainly not sitting idly at a computer and flailing your hands across a keyboard, leans back to appreciate the work he has just finished.
The scene lingers for a few moments on the quiet, darkened room of BASIL BARADARAN. The main source of light is a tall, precariously bent desk lamp, the sort that makes you think briefly of the Pixar logo. It emits a warm glow to the otherwise black room.
Hunched over the desk, silhouetted against the orange glow in front of him, Basil sits at the desk. He thinks about what to write. He types a few words, considers them, and then deletes them. A minor stroke of inspiration hits, and his face lights up. Silently, he cracks his knuckles, hurriedly types several lines on his keyboard and, with the sort of grunt that is more associated with manual work and heavy lifting and most certainly not sitting idly at a computer and flailing your hands across a keyboard, leans back to appreciate the work he has just finished.
BASIL
That'll do.
(CONT-)
---
Lately I've been getting quite into screenwriting. Well, I say lately, I mean, like, forever. But I mean as in lately I've written a fair few - most importantly, one Simpsons spec script which was part of the requirements for applying to the Nickelodeon Writing Program, which I am incredibly psyched for. I've no idea how many people they're thinking of taking on, but with any luck my script is good enough to make it. For those curious, I was very keen on trying to bring back some of that everyday-family struggle that the Simpsons used to do so well (and seeing I wrote a whole article on it not too long ago, it seemed like a logical choice). The episode was about online privacy and how it affected the citizens of Springfield when a new phone begins sharing content to the wrong contacts. Meanwhile Bart gets trolled by someone intent on ruining the El Barto name. I feel like it could have done with some polishing but the deadline loomed way too quickly, and before I knew it it was the last day to get it finished.
Still, it was pretty good I think. If I don't get in I might just post it here for the laffs and/or giggles. And then write something better for the following year. Shame it takes so long to know if you got in or not - August is when the semifinalists are announced and September when the winners are.
In the meantime I'll keep working on other projects. Editing a short story script from Chipped Productions currently, the animation ident I worked on just last week. This reminds me - with all the new work I've done lately, I think I should change my site to reflect the work I've done, and also to showcase it. the showreel on there is still from 2 years ago and while it certainly needs updating I've worked on stills, screenplays and other things on top of animation, none of which I can put into a showreel. When mine and Wilson's comic comes together, that'll have to be included too.
Essentially it's gone from a writing blog, to an animation site and now I'm thinking of making a comfortable inbetween.
In the meantime I'll keep working on other projects. Editing a short story script from Chipped Productions currently, the animation ident I worked on just last week. This reminds me - with all the new work I've done lately, I think I should change my site to reflect the work I've done, and also to showcase it. the showreel on there is still from 2 years ago and while it certainly needs updating I've worked on stills, screenplays and other things on top of animation, none of which I can put into a showreel. When mine and Wilson's comic comes together, that'll have to be included too.
Essentially it's gone from a writing blog, to an animation site and now I'm thinking of making a comfortable inbetween.
Going to cut this short, this entry, mainly because my mind has gone blank and mainly because there's a new episode of Better Call Saul and I can't wait.
-------------
-------------
Wednesday, 4 February 2015
Freewrite: the Sheath
---
Here's a freewrite I did based on some random prompt words people gave me
----------
The days were long, gloomy and grey. The nights were longer, black and terrifying. The sea was in a bad mood and seemed out to prove that it could destroy the ships that lay on it in a split second, but was gracious enough not to. The men aboard the Dragon no longer cared about the mission. They wanted to know the touch of land again, and to feel the earth beneath their feet.
Lightning exploded above them, and the ship was illuminated in a brilliant white. The captain, the skeppare, loomed above the rest of them, his furs drenched, and his armour shining. Strapped to his side was a large knife he only used when fighting his mortal enemies, to see the life drain from their eyes. It rarely left the sheaf.
Skeppare Geirrod Nystrom bellowed orders, but with the roar of the ocean, and the creaking of the Dragon, his words disappeared into the rain. It didn’t matter, though, they knew what he was telling them. It had been the same instructions day after day. They were hunting for something, but they were not told what. Rumour was it Nystrom’s family was dying and he searched for a legendary berry that could cure them. But no one was sure if this was true, and if it was, if the berry existed. Some said he was looking for a holy weapon of myth. No one was sure. But all of that was so long ago. All they knew, for certain, was that Nystrom’s eyes grew wilder each day. In the scant hours of sleep the men received, he would be seen strolling the deck of the Dragon, idly, watching the endless expanse of ocean ahead of them. It was not long before they could see in his increasingly tired eyes the doubt that lay hidden beneath the glaring, angry confidence.
He told them they were going to uncharted lands, and in his brightest moments, he could even motivate his men into forgetting how long they had been at sea. In those moments of sunshine, the trip seemed tolerable, even pleasant. But the storm had been going for days now, and day was barely distinguishable from night. It seemed it would last this way until they all died.
Nystrom would speak incomprehensibly of freedom, but not to anyone. The crew would hear him mumble to himself sometimes as he watched his men row, but no one would ask him in those times. They would see his hand clutching at the handle of his knife, as if debating whether or not to use it. Who his mortal enemies were on the ship, it was anyone's guess, but nobody wanted to find out. The storm continued and the Dragon fought the waves.
On the worst day, when the waves were so tall they threatened to engulf and submerge the ship completely, Nystrom was nowhere to be seen. The crew battled the rebelling ocean through the night. In the morning, the Dragon drifted ashore. When they went to find Nystrom, they found his knife unsheathed, clutched in his hand, and him sprawled across the table, the charts he had been keeping secret soaked through with blood. It looked like he had tried to write something in the blood, but it was illegible. The crew looked out at the land they had landed on, and for the first time in months, saw sunshine.
Here's a freewrite I did based on some random prompt words people gave me
----------
The days were long, gloomy and grey. The nights were longer, black and terrifying. The sea was in a bad mood and seemed out to prove that it could destroy the ships that lay on it in a split second, but was gracious enough not to. The men aboard the Dragon no longer cared about the mission. They wanted to know the touch of land again, and to feel the earth beneath their feet.
Lightning exploded above them, and the ship was illuminated in a brilliant white. The captain, the skeppare, loomed above the rest of them, his furs drenched, and his armour shining. Strapped to his side was a large knife he only used when fighting his mortal enemies, to see the life drain from their eyes. It rarely left the sheaf.
Skeppare Geirrod Nystrom bellowed orders, but with the roar of the ocean, and the creaking of the Dragon, his words disappeared into the rain. It didn’t matter, though, they knew what he was telling them. It had been the same instructions day after day. They were hunting for something, but they were not told what. Rumour was it Nystrom’s family was dying and he searched for a legendary berry that could cure them. But no one was sure if this was true, and if it was, if the berry existed. Some said he was looking for a holy weapon of myth. No one was sure. But all of that was so long ago. All they knew, for certain, was that Nystrom’s eyes grew wilder each day. In the scant hours of sleep the men received, he would be seen strolling the deck of the Dragon, idly, watching the endless expanse of ocean ahead of them. It was not long before they could see in his increasingly tired eyes the doubt that lay hidden beneath the glaring, angry confidence.
He told them they were going to uncharted lands, and in his brightest moments, he could even motivate his men into forgetting how long they had been at sea. In those moments of sunshine, the trip seemed tolerable, even pleasant. But the storm had been going for days now, and day was barely distinguishable from night. It seemed it would last this way until they all died.
Nystrom would speak incomprehensibly of freedom, but not to anyone. The crew would hear him mumble to himself sometimes as he watched his men row, but no one would ask him in those times. They would see his hand clutching at the handle of his knife, as if debating whether or not to use it. Who his mortal enemies were on the ship, it was anyone's guess, but nobody wanted to find out. The storm continued and the Dragon fought the waves.
On the worst day, when the waves were so tall they threatened to engulf and submerge the ship completely, Nystrom was nowhere to be seen. The crew battled the rebelling ocean through the night. In the morning, the Dragon drifted ashore. When they went to find Nystrom, they found his knife unsheathed, clutched in his hand, and him sprawled across the table, the charts he had been keeping secret soaked through with blood. It looked like he had tried to write something in the blood, but it was illegible. The crew looked out at the land they had landed on, and for the first time in months, saw sunshine.
-----------
Wednesday, 28 January 2015
The bubble
--
I wrote this as part of a larger narrative but I think it works well as a single piece:
He called it a bubble, but according to the Boy, it was more like a vast expanse; they rested on a cliff so high they could look down and watch the clouds roll and crash like the waves beneath them. And that was it. Behind was the stretch of land they were sitting on, but it went on forever, like there was no horizon.
The Boy looked up, in the direction of the Man.
“Where are you, then?”
The Man looked down at him and the far-off gaze he had was replaced with the familiarity of seeing an old friend.
“Hong Kong.”
The Boy’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah,” said the Man, before the boy could say anything. “It’s as great as you thought it would be.”
“Penthouse?”
The Man shook his head, laughing. “No, of course not. My place is small, but it’s right in the heart of the city. It’s so easy to get to work."
“That’s great,” said the Boy, unconvincingly. “What do you do?”
“Oh … nothing,” said the Man, dismissively. There were rules in his job. Non-disclosures had been agreed upon. But then remembered who he was talking to, and where they were.
“The company is private,” he replied, cryptically. “I work in technologies there, with a team. We built this place. We’re looking for people who have misused it.”
The Boy considered this for a while.
“Is that why you came to see me?”
The Man nodded.
The Boy opened his mouth to ask a question, but the Man knew exactly what he was about to ask.
“It was my fault. I let them in. See, I thought I could trust them. They were friends.”
The Boy rolled his eyes. “You should pick your friends better.”
“So should you.”
There was silence for a while, and there was a thick air of awkwardness as both of them were hesitant to think of what to say next. The Man had a lot to say. Somehow his answers didn’t seem to placate the Boy.
“Is your wife beautiful?”
“I’m not married.”
“Your girlfriend, then.”
“I don’t have one. No time.”
They both laughed at this moment of irony, and the infinite expanse in front of them seemed to laugh too.
“Do you want to know what I want to be when I grow up?” said the Boy, suddenly.
The Man looked back down at him with a smile.
“I know what you want to be when you grow up.”
“You think so. You’ve forgotten.”
The Man looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“OK.” The Boy shifted in his seat and turned to face the Man face-on. “You’ve got some of it right. Hong Kong? Check. Physics and Technology? Check. But I want this to help the world, and of course be incredibly famous doing so. Is it empty, all of this?”
“No. I mean … It’s a work in progress…” began the Man. He was surprised at the Boy’s speech. He did not remember the Boy being like this, but maybe this was not really him. Maybe this was how the bubble worked.
“That’s not what I see. But I’m just a kid. I don’t know. Can our work not be applied better?” He considered the bubble. He approved of it. “And I want a beautiful wife who supports me, and friends that don’t steal the things I make. When this is over, will I be remembered?”
The Man was not sure what the Boy had meant by this, and if this was his experience of the Boy’s. Ultimately, it did not matter. Things would change, or they would not. He did not know what would happen when they left the bubble, if he or the Boy would remember any of it. He could feel their time in the bubble ending.
The Boy stood up and took a deep breath. The golden light warmed his face.
“I guess what I want to know is, are there any regrets?”
The Man stood also. The ground beneath him felt very unstable.
“Well? There always will be. You hope, and you wish for great, grand things. You achieve some of them. You don’t others, or you tell yourself you will, just not right now.”
“I don’t believe in that,” the Boy said. “But thanks for the advice.”
The bubble faded. Darkness set in, familiarity was creeping into both the Boy and the Man’s vision.
The Man ruffled the Boy’s hair.
“Good luck, kid. Let me know how it turns out.”
As he disappeared, and the clouds, cliff and golden light faded, the Boy replied. “You’ll know.”
-------------
I wrote this as part of a larger narrative but I think it works well as a single piece:
He called it a bubble, but according to the Boy, it was more like a vast expanse; they rested on a cliff so high they could look down and watch the clouds roll and crash like the waves beneath them. And that was it. Behind was the stretch of land they were sitting on, but it went on forever, like there was no horizon.
The Boy looked up, in the direction of the Man.
“Where are you, then?”
The Man looked down at him and the far-off gaze he had was replaced with the familiarity of seeing an old friend.
“Hong Kong.”
The Boy’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah,” said the Man, before the boy could say anything. “It’s as great as you thought it would be.”
“Penthouse?”
The Man shook his head, laughing. “No, of course not. My place is small, but it’s right in the heart of the city. It’s so easy to get to work."
“That’s great,” said the Boy, unconvincingly. “What do you do?”
“Oh … nothing,” said the Man, dismissively. There were rules in his job. Non-disclosures had been agreed upon. But then remembered who he was talking to, and where they were.
“The company is private,” he replied, cryptically. “I work in technologies there, with a team. We built this place. We’re looking for people who have misused it.”
The Boy considered this for a while.
“Is that why you came to see me?”
The Man nodded.
The Boy opened his mouth to ask a question, but the Man knew exactly what he was about to ask.
“It was my fault. I let them in. See, I thought I could trust them. They were friends.”
The Boy rolled his eyes. “You should pick your friends better.”
“So should you.”
There was silence for a while, and there was a thick air of awkwardness as both of them were hesitant to think of what to say next. The Man had a lot to say. Somehow his answers didn’t seem to placate the Boy.
“Is your wife beautiful?”
“I’m not married.”
“Your girlfriend, then.”
“I don’t have one. No time.”
They both laughed at this moment of irony, and the infinite expanse in front of them seemed to laugh too.
“Do you want to know what I want to be when I grow up?” said the Boy, suddenly.
The Man looked back down at him with a smile.
“I know what you want to be when you grow up.”
“You think so. You’ve forgotten.”
The Man looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“OK.” The Boy shifted in his seat and turned to face the Man face-on. “You’ve got some of it right. Hong Kong? Check. Physics and Technology? Check. But I want this to help the world, and of course be incredibly famous doing so. Is it empty, all of this?”
“No. I mean … It’s a work in progress…” began the Man. He was surprised at the Boy’s speech. He did not remember the Boy being like this, but maybe this was not really him. Maybe this was how the bubble worked.
“That’s not what I see. But I’m just a kid. I don’t know. Can our work not be applied better?” He considered the bubble. He approved of it. “And I want a beautiful wife who supports me, and friends that don’t steal the things I make. When this is over, will I be remembered?”
The Man was not sure what the Boy had meant by this, and if this was his experience of the Boy’s. Ultimately, it did not matter. Things would change, or they would not. He did not know what would happen when they left the bubble, if he or the Boy would remember any of it. He could feel their time in the bubble ending.
The Boy stood up and took a deep breath. The golden light warmed his face.
“I guess what I want to know is, are there any regrets?”
The Man stood also. The ground beneath him felt very unstable.
“Well? There always will be. You hope, and you wish for great, grand things. You achieve some of them. You don’t others, or you tell yourself you will, just not right now.”
“I don’t believe in that,” the Boy said. “But thanks for the advice.”
The bubble faded. Darkness set in, familiarity was creeping into both the Boy and the Man’s vision.
The Man ruffled the Boy’s hair.
“Good luck, kid. Let me know how it turns out.”
As he disappeared, and the clouds, cliff and golden light faded, the Boy replied. “You’ll know.”
-------------
Wednesday, 21 January 2015
When did the CW get awesome?
--
I am super excited for these shows to come back
Also, hey it's 2015!
------
I am super excited for these shows to come back
Also, hey it's 2015!
------
Wednesday, 24 December 2014
Annals
----
I'm sitting in an office, wearing a comedy Christmas tie and drinking a comically oversized skinny latte, and despite appearing like Edward Norton at the start of Fight Club, I'm greatly enjoying it.
Let's clip show, shall we? Except without the pictures. OK maybe with pictures. I'll see if I can find pictures.
You know, Cyprien did a much better year in recap, probably because he had more interesting things to talk about, but who cares, this one's all about my year. Yeah I know I say every year I don't like doing these but nevertheless I still do them and you know what? This has actually been an interesting year, filled with odd little moments and meeting fun people.
So let's begin. (Chances are, I'll only end up doing this until about June-July, and carry on another day, but it depends how much downtime I have at the office today. It's Christmas eve, so there isn't a great deal of work I haven't done yet).
The year began, technically, awesomely. See, I'd quit my shitty job working in a newsagent back in December, awaiting an animation gig over at a studio, who were going to do a youtube series where people talk in front of a green screen and needed me to do some background animation. Seemed decent enough. Went to their studios and got set up.
And then they told me they didn't feel ready to actually begin production, despite having begun production. What was funny - in retrospect, that is - was when we were interviewing, I asked them if they had enough video content for me to work on, if they wanted this to be an ongoing series, and they had assured me they had. Oh well, I also had an interview for a Maya Generalist position at another company the following day, at a much nicer salary. I got the job, and then some higher-ups decided they no longer needed a Maya generalist and the two jobs I, only a couple of days before, had, were now no longer.
Well at least I was still working Jake Bexx's Bilderberg Project, which while being simple in style, was a lot of fun.
Cut to a montage of me trying out different jobs over the following months and (usually) failing miserably.
Fundraiser! Article writer! [I was going to link the site but it's down. Good sign] Freelancer! Hell, I even had a day where I was pushing tea. Not like in a West Side Story way, but actually literally, tea. In Camden Market. That was a weird day.
But then I had to rush off because I had to go and see Dichen Lachman at the premiere of the film whose name and plot I've completely forgotten (but she was delightful), which Wilson somehow managed to swipe tickets for.
Hell, here's an earlier one. Yes. They're meant to be regular. Yes, it's been ten months since we've done one. However, we've gotten quite a lot done in this despite our lack of video evidence. I've planned out many character arcs and shaped the way the first season will go (and thought about at least three more after that. What, who says I'm getting ahead of myself?), while Wilson has done some incredible concepts for it. There's also an official Weird Gods blog dedicated to the show but it's kind of sort of on the backburner for the moment.
It's on the backburner because we're currently writing a comic, which won't be going on the backburner. We're looking at starting production first thing next year and releasing pages once a week, once we have enough backlogged.
In May I wrote a short film.
And then we made it. Production was great fun, if a bit all over the place - most of the people working on it were graduates and we did it on a shoestring budget but none of that was really up to me. I wrote it and made sure it looked good (also I had to act in it because an actor dropped out at the last minute)
And during those months I got to hang out with some French nobs, drunk with the Visual Effects Society - of which I am not even remotely close to being a member of - and saw Interstellar on an IMAX projector and Big Hero 6 (all of this thanks to frequent collaborator Wilson), and saw Jackie freakin' Chan (he is the nicest guy in the world and sung everybody Happy Birthday).
.jpg)
So this was all happening while I was looking for a job. And then i got a job: after a brief and predictably disastrous stint as a fundraiser, I applied for an admin job at the same charity - the National Deaf Children's Society - and got the job. It's been a good job, it's comfortable, I'm at a desk and it's not tiring enough that it dampens my creativity, although once in a blue moon I have to dress in a giant bear suit
Gotta keep them fundraisers happy. But yeah it gives me the freedom to not worry about a steady paycheque while not being so creatively stifling that I can't go home and do some freelance, or do some writing.
Recently I worked on another short film, The Blue Balloon, where I had to remove colours and keep other colours, a la Schindler's List (with less Holocaust)
--------------
I'm sitting in an office, wearing a comedy Christmas tie and drinking a comically oversized skinny latte, and despite appearing like Edward Norton at the start of Fight Club, I'm greatly enjoying it.
Let's clip show, shall we? Except without the pictures. OK maybe with pictures. I'll see if I can find pictures.
You know, Cyprien did a much better year in recap, probably because he had more interesting things to talk about, but who cares, this one's all about my year. Yeah I know I say every year I don't like doing these but nevertheless I still do them and you know what? This has actually been an interesting year, filled with odd little moments and meeting fun people.
So let's begin. (Chances are, I'll only end up doing this until about June-July, and carry on another day, but it depends how much downtime I have at the office today. It's Christmas eve, so there isn't a great deal of work I haven't done yet).
The year began, technically, awesomely. See, I'd quit my shitty job working in a newsagent back in December, awaiting an animation gig over at a studio, who were going to do a youtube series where people talk in front of a green screen and needed me to do some background animation. Seemed decent enough. Went to their studios and got set up.
I say studio, I meant three separate flats in Mayfair and did I mention how loaded these guys were?
And then they told me they didn't feel ready to actually begin production, despite having begun production. What was funny - in retrospect, that is - was when we were interviewing, I asked them if they had enough video content for me to work on, if they wanted this to be an ongoing series, and they had assured me they had. Oh well, I also had an interview for a Maya Generalist position at another company the following day, at a much nicer salary. I got the job, and then some higher-ups decided they no longer needed a Maya generalist and the two jobs I, only a couple of days before, had, were now no longer.
Well at least I was still working Jake Bexx's Bilderberg Project, which while being simple in style, was a lot of fun.
Cut to a montage of me trying out different jobs over the following months and (usually) failing miserably.
Fundraiser! Article writer! [I was going to link the site but it's down. Good sign] Freelancer! Hell, I even had a day where I was pushing tea. Not like in a West Side Story way, but actually literally, tea. In Camden Market. That was a weird day.
But then I had to rush off because I had to go and see Dichen Lachman at the premiere of the film whose name and plot I've completely forgotten (but she was delightful), which Wilson somehow managed to swipe tickets for.
During all of this, however, personal projects were still very active (I'm not gonna let unemployment stop me from my achieving fever dreams dammit!), and here's a previously unreleased video of Wilson and I discussing our plans on making a children's TV show.
It's on the backburner because we're currently writing a comic, which won't be going on the backburner. We're looking at starting production first thing next year and releasing pages once a week, once we have enough backlogged.
In May I wrote a short film.
And then we made it. Production was great fun, if a bit all over the place - most of the people working on it were graduates and we did it on a shoestring budget but none of that was really up to me. I wrote it and made sure it looked good (also I had to act in it because an actor dropped out at the last minute)
And during those months I got to hang out with some French nobs, drunk with the Visual Effects Society - of which I am not even remotely close to being a member of - and saw Interstellar on an IMAX projector and Big Hero 6 (all of this thanks to frequent collaborator Wilson), and saw Jackie freakin' Chan (he is the nicest guy in the world and sung everybody Happy Birthday).
So this was all happening while I was looking for a job. And then i got a job: after a brief and predictably disastrous stint as a fundraiser, I applied for an admin job at the same charity - the National Deaf Children's Society - and got the job. It's been a good job, it's comfortable, I'm at a desk and it's not tiring enough that it dampens my creativity, although once in a blue moon I have to dress in a giant bear suit
Recently I worked on another short film, The Blue Balloon, where I had to remove colours and keep other colours, a la Schindler's List (with less Holocaust)
And then I helped teach some green screen lessons with the same guy who I did the editing for. Kids were a ... handful (and not particularly great to teach technicalities of chroma keying to), but the teenagers were a hoot, very keen on learning and had some cool ideas for their films.
Turns out I could do it all in one post. I've probably forgot to mention a lot of things. Normally I'd finish with a little Christmas thing I've written but I seem to have forgotten this year. That and my traditional Christmas picture. So here's a picture of things people will be tearing open tomorrow morning.
It's been a year of weird semi-aimless wandering. But I think some paths have been taken, and some are going to be stuck to. As far as my time in London has gone, it's been the most interesting time.
Merry Christmas, everybody. Hope your year was as interesting as mine, and your next be even better.
--------------
Monday, 17 November 2014
The Unpredictable Nature of Balloons
---
I'm going back to Cornwall tomorrow for the first time in almost two years, for a few days to see my old mum, who is usually the one who comes here to visit. It might be the sort of peace and quiet I need to get some writing done, or maybe it'll be a pit where creativity goes to die. Who knows. It might even give me some time plan out a webcomic Wilson and I have been writing (for quite some time now). As opposed to our previous similar ideas, most of which were on scales too big for our current level of skill, this is a bit smaller, a story with a smaller scope and fewer characters, but hopefully visually interesting and entertaining enough to get us a decent following (see, it's all part of a larger plan to gain enough credit to be able to effectively pitch our children's animated show when the time is right). With Wilson on board it means I can do a story bigger than the last comic, because I can concentrate on story and he on art. If I don't come back in three days with a dozen or two new pages planned out, I'll be pretty disappointed.
Either way it'll make for a decent change of pace from London, the hustle and bustle of which I love. But I'm on holiday so I think a change of scenery is needed. And if that doesn't work, maybe my trip back up to Sheffield will be the sort of creative kick in the pants I need. Being back in the city I studied might trick my brain into thinking there are some serious deadlines up ahead. This one I actually am looking forward to. Spending Friday with Lauren, catching up, and Saturday with the first friend I made up there Chris Gray, who's taken it upon himself to show me what's changed (I imagine everything's gone downhill since I left). Should really make a checklist of old haunts to visit. Get the feeling about half of them will have closed for health and safety reasons. That or they became Weatherspoons.
However having all of these plans means I have to finish a project I've been working on the last couple of weeks, which is a project actor Chip Dewey gave me to do. You might remember him as the lead in the short film I wrote six months ago. He wrote and shot a short film and wants it desaturated, with one colour remaining. You know, like the little girl in the red coat from Schindler's List. (in typing this, autocorrect has given me the title for the single worst porn parody, Schindler's Lust). It wasn't as difficult as I'd envisioned (mainly because it wasn't as long as I thought), but when you're filming a blue balloon against a blue sky and want the balloon isolated, it's nopt incredibly easy. There was masking and tracking involved (though I gave up on tracking three frames in), and ended up just masking. Of course due to the random movement of balloons it meant doing every single frame. Sometimes there were two balloons.
Oh god why is there another balloon?
That said, I had a great time doing this. It's nice to be given a project outside of the usual stuff you like to do. Plus with this being our second collaboration, I'm looking forward to working more with this guy in the future.
But for now, time to enjoy the countryside.
---------
Subscribe to:
Posts
(Atom)
