Today was supposed to be Cardio Cinema III minus one week. For reasons that I have yet to fully understand, the gig was cancelled. Maybe because it was six days before Christmas, but mostly I suspect because the ‘supervisor’ responsible for scheduling was making a power play to demonstrate her enormous power and chain-of-command authority. I was never given a satisfactory reason. I am well past being over it, but it has left me with a less-than-delicious taste in my mouth. What in the wonderful world of wine they call the finish. That lingering afterglow that keeps reminding one that the test was a sensual success. This one finished like two fingers of ten-year old ethanol.
I bring this up today because last night we officially hit the three-quarters mark in what was initially designed to be an hour-long presentation. Yes, I fully plan on starting what began almost the day after the very successful premiere of CC II back on Nov 21, literally in production every day of those three weeks. Some days for an hour and others illuminated only with the light of midnight oil. Truth announced, I love this process and would have been in post regardless. It is my thing. The curious cancellation of the event notwithstanding, the excitement of the experience and the satisfaction of a project taken from inception to completion, from the fade up from black to the fade back into it, is a creative journey that fills a reservoir of meaning for me. This little video is my baby. It’s life, happiness, maturity, education, success, failure, love, suffering, growth, light and darkness are all as I direct. I cannot leave it be and allow it to find its own path through the chaos. I must guide it and lead the way. It contains all of my hope, every dream and the current challenge of frustrations that sometimes dam the river. To jettison it at this point would be like locking the front door and leaving your dog out to fend for herself. Simply will not happen.
This umbilical cord of creative connection is similar to what musicians feel about their instruments, the tools of the trade. This is Garcia and his custom ax, a weapon he took into battle with respect and the skill of a ninja swordsman. This is Van Gough with his starry night and sunflowers, This is Papa’s typewriter and Hubble’s telescope. It is Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein and Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. It is the magic of Harry Potter and the vision of Buckminster Fuller.
Quitting now is the unthinkable. Walking away, not an option.
Along with this practice, writing every day, and my training schedule, also a daily effort, the time spent in production, shooting video and the subsequent time-line compilation into something larger than itself, is therapy, growth and an on-going learning process. It has its spectacular moments of dazzling brilliance as well as the unmistakable reality of missing, sometimes by miles, the mark. One tries repeatedly to maximize the former and minimize the latter. Sometimes the magic works.
I have a meeting with the supervisor tomorrow to hopefully get to the core issue of our silly impasse. I will be cordial, honest and forgiving. I am sure that, at times, I can be difficult to deal with. Given the scope of this petty incident in global context, humility is probably the best characteristic I could muster for the dialogue, as I don’t really do this to please anyone.
Other than myself.
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