One Outta Two

One out of two ain’t bad. I will take that average any day of the week. If succeeding on fifty percent of every trip to the plate is more than enough for entry into the Hall of Fame, what does that correlate to in our work? 

Yesterday I had two things I wanted to get done, or more accurately, to spend quality time pushing towards completion. One was the current 2x20 video and the other a carburetor repair on my Honda Shadow. 

After spending the entire morning hunched over the keyboard assembling clips to the timeline, adding transitions and experimenting with a new graphic bundle I dropped 80 bucks on, my left hip flexor demanded attention. A break was in order and our Tuesday nooner 5K was the perfect remedy. Stops at the grocery store, library and bank extended the break and by the time I got back the sun was at a perfect angle to splash the deck in warmth and light. I had a quick tuna sandwich (paired with sparking lime flavored water) and took a twenty minute siesta on the giant bean-bag, carefully orienteering it for south pointing toes. Ahhhh, this is nice. 

As is almost always the case, I immediately start to consider the rest versus production issues involved, and with the winds interference of direct light rays, cutting the vitamin D op with chilling speed, I dressed and headed back to work, break over. 

Back in the editing room saddle the video is now showing some of the promise of its original vision. The theme seems to be working, shots are lining up with emotional and visual impact and the story is being told. In this state, things flow. It is very much a labor supervised and supported by our old friend Mr Mojo. When he goes off on an adventure, with no forewarning and no estimated time of return, the magic disappears with the same speed that the dark clouds enter the Northwest skies in spring. 

That is why I practice being aware of His presence. When I feel that gentle, compassionate and creative hand on my shoulder, every bit of focus and gumption goes from heart to hand. It is like a bass player totally in groove with the drummer, together creating a dynamic, flowing groove. Sometimes I can almost hear a voice commenting on a cut, edit decision or sequence by suggesting, in a rich English accent, ‘a masterful stroke of genius sir’. 

These moments, however frequently or rare their occurrence, are the drops of eternity that create meaning and value. All I am is the conduit. Our hand-eye coordination, so often taken for granted, has magical properties the second our souls ask for permission to enter. These thoughts start somewhere. ‘Try the blue filter’, suggests the senior art director of the soul and bingo, the central nervous system carries out the order and raises eyebrows anticipating a positive response from the benevolent critics assigned to the project. 

Nice. 

This is a zone equal to any we find in athletics. The payout of a hard-fought victory has nothing on the satisfaction of the artist with her work. They are the same, one physical the other emotional. They both have the opportunity - nay the responsibility - to preform to their highest calling. I must run and I gotta paint. I will consider the value upon completion. 

It might come as no surprise then that the Honda still needs work. 

But one outta two ain’t bad.