Christopher Beiting Surrender Show - Photographs

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to sit down and film a conversation with  Christopher Beiting, an multi-disciplinary artist from Northern Kentucky.

You can find out more about his work here: http://www.christopherbeitingart.com

Beauty Will Save the World: Letter to You, an Artist

My friends over at Likable Art just released their letter to artists video that I had the privilege of writing back when I was an intern! So excited about this piece.


 

Rainy Afternoon with Clare Photographs

Clare and I made plans to take some photographs, and then the rain hit, but we embraced the weather and had some fun anyway!

How to Prove You're an Artist

No one really cares about all the great ideas you have inside your head. No one cares about the novels you haven't written, the photographs you haven't taken. No one cares about your art block. They only care about your art.

I used to get so mad when I was in a creative slump and a friend uploaded a new piece of art. I'd look at their work and think, "I could do that." But I would never sit down and make anything. I had big ideas, (even some good ones), but I would spend all of my time thinking about them, and never actually make anything. In fact, sometimes I would actively try to talk myself out of starting a new project (like the 100 Day Project--I made it to day 40), because the thought of "failing" and not finishing the project was crippling. The frustrating thing about seeing other people doing great work was knowing that I wasn't doing any work at all. I wanted to prove that I was a great artist too.

The problem is, the work you make when you're trying to prove yourself isn't very good. Why? Because it's not creative. It's not trying to be unique. The only point of the art you make when you want to show off is one-upmanship. It's not about being good or even great. Let that sink in for a minute. You're so focused on being more impressive than the other guy that you don't actually even care if the work you're making is good. As long as it's better than him, you'll be happy. Is this really why you became an artist?

I know, it's complicated. When I try to think about why I make art, I go into a tailspin. Is there really any meaning to making art? Then I devour an entire tub of ice cream while starring at the wall and listening to my "creative" Spotify playlist and I come up with some nonsense answer like this: "I make art because I want to have an impact on the world." Um, okay then, Mother Theresa.

The real answer is brutally honest and brutally simple.

Think you can handle it?

Okay. Here it is:

You make art because you want to.

Yep. That's really it. You make art because you want to. Sounds off somehow, doesn't it? I know. What I'm going to do now is reveal the invisible script that's going through your mind right now.

You're thinking that this is wrong because the whole problem is that you don't want to make art anymore. Maybe you don't even want to be an artist anymore. You're like a super poser. You call yourself an artist but lately you're starting to wonder if you've just fallen out of love with art.

Here's the thing. You can make incredible art. I know this because you've done it before. But think about it for a second. What made it incredible was how free you felt. You didn't worry about what anyone else thought. You weren't trying to prove anything. You were actually just having fun.

It's that simple. The way you prove that you're an artist is by having fun when you're making art. You don't have to suffer, you don't have to starve, you don't have to put on a huge show, you don't even have to share what you make with anyone at all (one of my greatest joys is taking a whole roll of photos and then keeping a few really good ones for myself that I never post anywhere).

Literally any other agenda will suck the joy out of the creative process. It will turn it into work. I know that we worship work in America (and hard work especially), so we're inclined to admire the tormented artist, but at that point you've got to wonder if maybe the artist has some personal problems in their life... like maybe they need to see a psychologist about those weird dreams they keep having?

Honestly, it doesn't have to be a struggle. It doesn't have to be painful. It doesn't have to be about impressing people. When you make something just for fun, you feel free. And that feeling of artistic freedom is worth more than struggling to impress someone any day.

But the best part is, when you make art because it's fun, other people love it. Seriously. So forget trying to prove yourself, and just go make something really, really fun.

Prince Edward Island Photographs

Recently I purchased a Sony A600 from Bryan (thanks dude!) and I've been having a LOT of fun playing with it, especially on this vacation that I took with my friend Stasia! Prince Edward Island was a bucket list destination for her because of the Anne of Green Gables books, and I said "I'LL GO WITH YOU!" because I'm all about travel lately, and thus a beautiful trip was born.

P.S. Check out the film I made from the trip on vimeo.

For the Love of Documentary

Everything can be sensationalized. Take extreme stories of athletic achievement. Jump-rope-rapid cutting, a hammering heartbeat in the frenetic, jagged soundtrack, and crunches in the weight room in the middle of the night, flashes of light streaking through the windows and bouncing off the mirrors--because why not? All this in service of a vague generalization about fighting to overcome obstacles.

Contrast this with the reality of encountering another human being. First you notice small, quiet things about him--like the color of his watchband, the size of his hands, the way he leans back and looks up when he's talking. Then you notice the fast things, too--an anxious laugh, the light in his eyes when he discusses a novel he just finished reading, the rhythm of his sentence structure.

Great documentaries anticipate this interplay of pacing and harness that energy into a hypnotic unfolding of the film encountering the subject. Great documentaries do not come out all at once, guns blazing. Great documentaries are like the tuning fork for the emotional symphonies of the people they're about.

Great narrative films are also about the business of capturing human experience, like pieces of broken bottles, and turning those little bits of diffuse color into a kaleidoscope, or a stained glass window, or the beads of a bracelet. Great narratives are like red velvet stage curtains, thick folds of creamy fabric pulled back to reveal something naked and essential about humanity; we're left clutching our premium ticket stub and glass of champagne, senses glazed over, stunned in the wake of stark emotional portraiture.

On the other hand, documentaries are like walking through the bad part of town, broken glass crunching beneath shoes that you suddenly think might project too much wealth. Wind whipping down an alley into your face, eyes wide as you see things absent from the corridors of your life. Documentaries tutor us in the unfamiliar that is close at hand. In the questions we always wanted to ask. They allow us to meet others and come away knowing more about ourselves.

What more can be said?

I love documentaries.

A big-sky Anthem

collage/editing by Rachel Shaw

Every other Tuesday I go to a lovely writer's group where we get to freewrite for two sessions of about 15 minutes and then do "readbacks," in "popcorn style." I had never heard of this before and particularly enjoy the way it creates connections throughout everyone's work, almost like creating one giant poem. This time I thought I'd share the two basically unedited pieces that I wrote yesterday: 

1.

I wanted to make an anthem. A scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs anthem, a flag-waving, muscle-car, big-sky anthem. I think that's how you feel when you've gone too long with something sitting on your chest, pressing you down; you think freedom must be a battle cry, blood and tears, some kind of epic trumpet fanfare.

But really it's more like turning the dial on an old radio to the place where it cuts through the static and you can finally hear. Or like finding a quiet spot behind the building to go at lunch break and nobody else knows about it.

Nobody else knows about it, which gives you equal parts pride and dread. What if you get lost or die and no one knows? What if something else equally terrible and unforeseeable happens? There are a million thoughts just waiting to convince you that it was a bad idea, after all.

But don't let them convince you. You are a filament in a lightbulb. Like waking up early with only dreams and silence, ready to ask the day to give you something.


2.

I have come to the point where I know I am not ready. I see myself in the helpless baby robin, in the overly-ambitious shot made in the local game of street basketball, in "third strike, you're out!"

I know I'm more like spray paint gripped by sweating palms on sticky July nights under the railroad awning and the almondy moon. Like the first kiss you later regret because it was terrible but the other person didn't let you know. Like stupid circuit breakers crapping out just when the weather is starting to turn up and your landlord is going to china for three weeks.

At a certain point, though, you've got to throw something overboard or you are going to sink. Either that or maybe upgrade to a bigger boat?

I was always annoyed by people who said that everything is just perspective... because perspective isn't just anything.

Perspective is like Los Angeles cuisine, like street tacos next to Hungarian goulash next to thai food so spicy your eyes water when they give you extra chili.

Perspective is like film critics arguing over Ingrid Bergman's lips, whether or not they contribute to her performance in the film...

My perspective is like a leaky cauldron, siphoning bits of vegetable and meat, and especially cooked carrots--I hate those mushy, cooked carrots so much I could scream.

My perspective is also like a musical instrument that you want to play but are so frightened and reverent that you only pluck a few perfunctory dollups of rhythm from the underbelly of an arpeggio before piously returning it to its case.

Consider also the stained glass shop on Main Strasse as a metaphor, though it seems too pointed a comparison for perspective.

Editing as Empathy

There's something about editing that intrigues me more than any other aspect of filmmaking. Much time is spent coordinating the many moving pieces of a film, giving it a certain "look" through setting, performances, and cinematographic style. But the lifeblood of a film, the energy it has, the momentum, the driving action... it seems to me that editing is needed to fulfill their potential. What, then, is the unique magic of editing?

Empathy.

The film editor works in the medium of empathy. Without empathy, the editor will be unable to connect ideas, themes, and emotions together comprehensively. Without empathy, editing is paint-by-numbers. All of the tricks of editing--the effect of montage, use of rhythm and emotion--require empathy. And the editor is uniquely called to practice empathy on a spectrum of people--from the production team, to the subject, to the audience. The editor offers an open hand to lead the viewer into the story.

Empathy is the name of the instinct that guides editing. And, empathy guides rhythm as well.

Consider a close friend who is suffering. Would you dominate the conversation? No... instead, a rhythm of listening, accepting, and consoling would be appropriate. Empathy in conversation is so rarely found in the words you say to the other; it's in the way you look at them. Non-verbal signals communicate your attentiveness and desire to understand and share their feelings.

Films have the ability to immerse the viewer in many natural and instinctual patterns of behavior, such as the human ability to read facial expressions. Though many of us struggle in various social situations, the evolutionary advantage of being able to read faces has made it a largely instinctual impulse. Editors craft the scene to provide this information to the viewer.

When we watch people on screen, we feel a connection to them. And that's because we have time. Time to watch their faces before they speak... and time to watch them afterwards. Editors have to decide: how much time do I give this emotion? Tony Zhou

In films, time often translates to silence (show, don't tell). We watch the face of a man who just lost his wife to cancer and we don't need dialogue to understand. At the extreme end of this, Chris McCaleb has said "Sometimes you can cut an entire page of dialogue out because maybe a character is saying it in a look." The sentiment being, there is power in a look.

Using empathy in film means giving the people on screen time to express their emotions and, simultaneously, giving the audience time to connect with them. That is the unique magic of editing.

the 100 day project!

I'm doing a 100 day video project. Not every day will be a vlog, but the first one is! I'm mostly doing it on Facebook (hence the, "Hello Facebook!") but I'm trying to upload to YouTube also. A lot of people are posting on Instagram (under #the100dayproject and you can check my personal tag at #100daysMeredith). 

Video Editing Methods

This blog is about the way that I approach creativity and some of the methods that I’ve used as an editor and cinematographer.

But before we get into my methods, I’d like to share a few things with you. They’re not rules exactly, and you don’t have to follow them, but I have found them helpful. 1). Never try to make what you think someone wants you to make. If you do this, you will be frustrated when you receive feedback and it won’t help you to grow because you will not feel ownership over the work--your work. Instead, invest yourself in the things that you make. Be confident in the artistic choices you make, and be prepared to both defend them and allow them to change as you learn more. 2). Find ways to leverage everything. Constraints make creativity. If everything were perfect, why would we need to make or do anything? Art happens when we find creative solutions to limitations. This is a broad concept, but an example might be workshopping your process. Take the time to codify the way you do things and then figure out better, more creative, and more efficient ways to accomplish the same things. 3). Learn how to solve your own problems. You will not always have the luxury of googling the correct answer or finding someone who knows the answer. This one ties into the first point--when you are creating new solutions, make sure they live up to your standards (otherwise you’ll be pretty unhappy with the results!). 4). Find inspiration everywhere (watch "The Gap" by Ira Glass). Seek out work that challenges and intimidates you. Study it, analyze it, and save it (I use Pinterest).

"The place between your comfort zone and your dream is where life takes place." -Anonymous

EDITING METHODS

"There in a nutshell is the essence of creativity: There are a number of possibilities, but only one solution looks inevitable.” Twyla Tharp

Talking Head - Multicam Methods

It’s very important for me to take notes during production. First I attend the pre-production meeting so that I understand what the speaker is trying to accomplish (and get a copy of the outline). Once production starts, I keep track of the takes in my notebook, labelling what is happening in each take and putting a star by the best ones.

When I start editing, one of the first things I do after importing and syncing the footage  is transfer my notes on the different takes into markers on the timeline, cutting out all of the chatting in between takes. Then I duplicate that sequence (so that I have an unedited copy) and begin editing.

(different sections are color coded here)

Motivated Cuts

With multicam talking head editing, you want to ask the question “why am I cutting between cameras?” Many times you’ll have to cut to remove stumbles or remove dead space, but when you have the freedom to cut freely between cameras it’s important to be intentional. With a speaker who’s teaching the audience something, I aim for invisible cuts--I don’t want to distract from the message. This is done by cutting on movement. What if the speaker is super stoic and doesn’t move much? You can cut on the word they emphasize the most, so that it still feels motivated. Another thing to think about is using different shots to communicate different things. A close up will likely feel more intimate. Speaking directly to camera feels like an appeal. A side angle may feel like we are looking in from outside. I usually pick a different pattern for each speaker (it depends on the way they move and speak), but then I stick to that so there’s a subconscious pattern for the viewer. It’s fun to vary this though, as you don’t want it to be predictable.  

(An example of the different angles to think about what each one communicates)

Interviews / Documentary / Service Segment In the beginning, my method for editing interviews was to watch the entire interview the day before I planned to start working on it. That way I would have time to think it over when I was away from the project. Now, however, I skip that step because what matters is not so much internalizing the particulars of the story, but in quickly identifying the important story elements. So, now my first step is to go through the entire interview and place markers throughout so that I can easily identify those key story points by glancing at the markers overview. It’s important to me that these markers read exactly what the person said (although I don’t often complete entire thoughts, I will just mark especially good and relevant points). Otherwise it can get very frustrating when I search through my markers and think I have something that I don’t (the difference phrasing makes!) How do I identify the key story points? I mark the beginning of any story a person tells or any information they’re conveying. Then, I mark any particularly emotional or clear points they make as they’re telling it. I don’t know yet which pieces I will end up using, so it’s helpful to have the different sections clearly marked. I’m essentially creating a searchable database for myself. Sometimes I will include any additional information in brackets, such as the question that was asked or asterisks as a rating system to alert me to something that seems especially useful. However I find rating to be less helpful than simply identifying all the important points. After creating the markers (it usually takes me no more than double the time of the interview to create my markers), I start working on the story cut. I also like to use transcripts while I’m editing. I just open a wordpad document and I write down what I have for the story so far (literally what the person is saying as the piece develops). I find it really helps me to read the words, even out loud sometimes. What’s your hook? + Use of Movement and Time To begin, I know I need a good hook. Something to tease what’s to come while maintaining mystery about the details. I want my editing to be intentional. How am I framing this piece? I need all the details to be in place to signal information to the audience. (Do I intend for them to be instantly impacted emotionally? For them to be curious? Amused? Empathetic?) Storytelling through video editing happens through movement: movement of story,  movement of emotion, and the movement of image and sound (for more on this, check out a video called The Science behind Film Editing by This Guy Edits from minute 1:21). It is the editor’s usage of movement that creates the feeling of either invisible or visible cuts. Movement of the camera can feel more subjective, while movement inside a still frame can feel more objective. In Tony Zhou’s excellent video essay “How does an editor think and feel?” he says, “When we watch people on screen, we feel a connection to them. And that's because we have time. Time to watch their faces before they speak... and time to watch them afterwards. Editors have to decide: how much time do I give this emotion?” Music and Sound Design

In my opinion, the music chosen should have some complexity to it. You shouldn’t hear it and instantly think of one emotion, you should hear possibility--it should be able to go in many different directions.

The fact is, you need good sound design. Quite frequently, you will see videos that succeed based on the merit of the sound. Many of your transitions will also succeed or fail based on sound (here’s a great video on transitions with Matty Brown). Also check out this article on the sound design in a Variable Buick commercial--I really appreciate how this article features a version of the commercial without music or narration, just sound effects. Here’s a great promo for the Sound Advice Tour that illustrates how sound can be used. Visual Storytelling - Get the most out of your footage Ideally, you will have the opportunity to log all of the b-roll for your project before you begin assembling. Logging is when you favorite clips, or make subclips, or in some way organize your footage. My favorite tip for this is the star rating system (using asterisks). But beyond just organizing your b-roll, how can you get the most out of what you have? When it comes to coverage, there are several aspects to consider. Clearly, composition is very important. You want to find and somehow mark the most well-composed scenes. For any particular scene, you’re also looking for variety. Ideally you’d have a wide of some action, a mid, and a close up to play between. Sometimes it’s nice to also just have a wide of the location to orient the scene, but the “action wide” can often work for that in a pinch.

Even though these are still images, your mind can read a progression here. Wide shot of the location, wide shot of the sisters talking, mid shot of their conversation, then the close up detail shot. If you run with this mentality of scene “building blocks,” you can stretch a small amount of footage much further. You can also, of course, change the order of those building blocks. The importance of little cutaways and detail shots cannot be overstated in a “run and gun” documentary environment. It’s not always possible to get the kind of neat coverage I’ve shown above. That’s why you need to grab as much random and abstract stuff as possible--even if you never end up using 90% of it, you will be grateful for the 10%. Here are some examples of random cutaway/insert shots from the shoot with the sisters:

Totally abstract. But could turn out to be really helpful if you want to set different kinds of moods or need coverage for something really abstract. The portrait of Jesus is one of the more obvious versions of this. The footprints of course suggest journey, they also illustrate the concept of winter/cold, and they could probably even work to describe someone who is missing or lost. The window could work for the concept of yearning/longing, perhaps the concept of being under a lot of pressure… but also probably work for contentment as well. RESOURCES

"Learn as much as you can from those who know more than you do, who do better than you, who see more clearly than you." -Dwight Eisenhower 

Books Steal like an Artist by Austin Kleon In the Blink of an Eye by Walter Murch (widely considered a classic on video editing) On Film Editing by Edward Dmytryk (an older book that uses a lot of film terminology but has excellent ideas and great examples) Creativity Inc. by Ed Catmull (about the creative process at Pixar).

The Icarus Deception by Seth Godin (great stuff on the need for the artist in the modern world--all of his books are honestly fantastic)

Hey Whipple, Squeeze this by Edward Boches and Luke Sullivan (on advertising, but it's really helpful for thinking about concepts)

Filmmakers

Salomon Ligthelm

Variable

Ryan Booth

Likable Art
Matty Brown

Bas Berkhout
Casey Neistat

John X. Carey

Eliot Rausch

Khalid Mohtaseb
Breakwater Studios

Great Big Story

Every Frame a Painting

Lessons from a Screenplay

Nerdwriter1

Now you see It