2_PreAch / 11:40

2a.

I can’t remember if Doug took this shot on location Day One at The Salt Flats. Or, if I took this in the tub when it was on Jose’s little porch area at his old apartment in the Aves. I think it was the former. But the drain is the idea… The drain is supposed to take us out of the portal & back into the TUB in the vision.

2b.

Sometimes I just see footage as puzzle pieces. I saw this movement & knew I could use it on a transition. Then fade in on the film burn… that’s my kind of dot-to-to visual equation.

2c.

This is the widest film frame we’ve seen yet — the full frame of what the film looks like when it’s scanned, with the sprockets on the left & a bit of the former & latter frames on the top & bottom. Plus, this is the very most “behind the scenes” we’ve seen — Doug actually with the slate before “actual” shooting had begun. This is the mark of a progressed, evolved locality.

2d.

Then, we cut in & focus on the single frame as the official “scene” plays out. But, I keep the sprockets & the scan affectations on the left instead of blacking the sides out with bars. I let the audience see a little further behind the curtain.

2e.

Do you see? The HOLY door has moved closer now. She emerged from her baptism like a phoenix from the ashes & now has close access to the door, a mirror now present behind her… symbolizing her new self-awareness.

2f.

Monochromatic frames. I realize now that this is an homage to Daisies, too. It has a kind of pop-art / Warhol vibe I really dig.

2g.

This song is Theodore, again. From that unfinished album. I essentially string together several pieces of song beginnings from that album throughout the vision sequences. That in itself seems like it’s own metaphor… like life sometimes feels like just a string of beginnings… or something like that. Regardless, all the bread crumbs were there for me & inspired for my use. Perfect puzzle pieces creating the soundscape magic here.

2h.

We decided to not worry about what you could see in the background with the mirror here — to “keep it real,” so to speak, & open the Oz curtain for the audience a little wider. I love that you can see the wheel chair here — a piece of “equipment” checked out from The U. It was actually meant to be in the film at one point… a moment that got cut (like so many others) in the necessary condensing of the film that had to take place on that first day of official shooting out at The Salt Flats. I love the little artifacts that live in the film, though — little reminders & hints at the aborted ideas that never quite were.

2i.

Beautiful frame, right? Those reflections — am I right? Beautiful duplicity. And, it’s like a new take on Dali… clocks melting into water. And then, DOUG — just doing his thing.

2j.

Color bars start to blip — bleed — over the footage now… Parallel, hyper-realistic realities — all manufactured.

2k.

I like how you finally get a good look at how the door is rigged now… right before the moment of reveal. If you look closely, you can see a sliver of Jose’s white robe peaking out from behind the edge of the door frame… about to make his debut.

2l.

That lamp… is a story. Thrashed & gorgeous, I found it at the DI on an Art Department run. It just called to me… It’s like it wanted to be in the movie, was destined to be in the movie. Did you notice how the further Our Girl progresses in the vision the more decor that appears around her? All artifacts of communications through the ages… books, records, projectors… & sources of light, namely, lamps. The big one now sits on the side table next to our bed in my room with Jose. My house-mates had hidden it in the cellar. My sister-in-law gasped when she saw it in my move. Asked if it was from a horror movie. But I… I can’t help but love it. It’s a talisman now.

2m.

The shirt… I’ve had for a long time. I can’t remember exactly when. But, I wore it during the filming of (the yet-to-be-finished) Manifest Extasy — the day Atlantic & I officially finished our coast-to-coast road-trip by filming at Sunken City in California (the place the ending of my never-to-be-made Chapman thesis was supposed to end — the place I took Jose recently to film 16mm for the continuation of Manifest Extasy & where I had an unanticipated panic attack because the last time I’d been there had been the aforementioned moment). And, of course, I love the idea that I transformed a horrifying “HOLY” affectation into “HOLY CHIC” fashion by self-repentant bleach.

2n.

There’s the wheelchair again in the background. And, that cooler from earlier. And, a bunch more of our junk that was actually just there at that moment. Of course, our “motif” to show the real “behind-the-scenes” really worked in our benefit at this moment as we were starting to lost light & really didn’t have time to be nit-picky about background details.

2o.

This 8mm camera is Grandpa Burr’s, as well. Also found in the recesses of his cleaned-out shed. Couldn’t figure out how to make it work either. But, still made a killer prop & symbol for “leveling-up,” so to speak, to an even more ancient technology, a tool appropriate for the grand moment of galactic reckoning.

2p.

Yet another Theodore original song beginning… We stop right before he begins to sing “All the beautiful things are dead…” A fitting echo to be clipped off — a future hijacked. But the SpaceMan needed an introductory sound & this was it.

2q.

The scrunchie… a signature accessory for my wrist. This chic, vision-graduated chica’s outfit wasn’t complete without it.

2r.

My G-string kept poking out here. There are funny outtakes with Linds pointing it out & laughing from off-camera. If you look closely, you can see the outline of it. Details are hard…

2s.

This footage, like the Super 8 POV, was actually shot by Doug on the GH5 & colored to replicate 8mm footage. I really love the neurotic realisticness to Doug’s BJB POV camera operation.

2t.

The pacing here really depended on the timing of the music… And, serendipitously, I think there’s a perfectly sequenced, milked-enough-but-not-too-much sensation to it… the way I grab for it so many times, over & over, like elongated edits in old movies. Repeating action simulates what intense moments feel like better than the quick-&-easy reality of press ‘n play.

2u.

It was SO important to me that this moment play right, obviously. The music. The pacing, with the right amount of final build-up with the multiple reaches for the door knob. Then, Doug tilts up in his POV at exactly the right moment. Then — the color changes, in the most vibrant hues & fastest switches yet. And there he is — finally — for real.* It’s the SpaceMan… in the flesh. Or, actually, it’s Jose in a helmet (that the talented Brice Baird made for me). It’s BJB’s literal fantasy.

*up until this point we’ve only heard about the spaceman, and we don’t know if we’ll ever see him.

2v.

This is the TUBcake Theme Song, written & performed by Theodore for the film. It’s one of the pieces I didn’t make & yet it was always destined for this moment. He was originally conceived as my SpaceMan, you know. But, he wasn’t there when I had to start making it happen. And, the film grew out from the person I became in having to reinvent & manifest a new ending. But, it was fate for us to get back in touch after I shot the film, because essential music bloomed out from* our brief time back in each other’s orbit. It’s a goodbye song, a swan song of once-was with enormous peace in it’s baton-passing tone. Perfect for this moment when the SpaceMan more or less ordains her, anointing her with a sense of independence, release from attachment delivered in his message. And to me, it’s a beautiful thing that my new, wonderful partner takes on the SpaceMan role.

I realized one day, it was always meant to be Jose. There is something about the way we work & fit that enabled a state in me that made the whole production happen. He empowers me. And, because of the experience & growth facilitated by my relationship with Theodore, I was really ready to commit with Jose. For the first time, I was able to maintain a focus on my own personal art & vision while embarking on a new relationship. A serendipitous crosshair between who Jose is & the new me. To me, the simultaneous presences create a universal truth about ebb & flow in life & the sad beauty of shifting phases.

2w.

This is both a reference to Jenny Holzer & to my favorite photograph of Kurt Cobain taken in front of the Jenny Holzer marquee exhibition with the words written behind him: “MEN DON’T PROTECT YOU ANYMORE.” I’d been aware of the photograph for a long time. Or, actually, from about 2014 after I’d left Chapman & was preparing for the roadtrip & shooting of the (yet unfinished) Manifest Extasy with Atlantic when I suddenly felt compelled to seriously study Nirvana. It became an obsession. I especially loved reading through Kurt’s published journals. I was fascinated to find what a feminist he was. He really believed that the future of punk rock was female. I must have first seen the photograph around then.

I had no idea it was a Jenny Holzer art installation until later. I just liked the words - no explanation. To me, they always implied a following phrase: “…they empower you.” I identified with the idea that a type of man could exist that wanted to be your true comrade, who could empower you in a form of brotherhood that allowed true leadership by women. In my own culture, I often felt that the conceit of “protection” kept women away from high-profile roles for safety & sanctity. But truly, the effects of the power structure of “protection” is an inability of women to truly risk what is necessary to lead.

2x.

Theodore introduced me to Jenny Holzer, inadvertently almost. He liked to check out books from the library, & once met me outside with a blanket & snacks & books he thought I might like, and one of them was on Jenny Holzer art exhibitions. Her medium is words, phrases — displayed (marquee, projection, signage, etc.). I fell in love with it all.

I now have bits & pieces of her words displayed all over the room. And then I recalled it — the picture — with Kurt in front of the marquee, & it just all came together for me. It was a message in that moment for me. I was struggling at this phase to take control of my own life. I wasn’t used to doing that; my programming ached for a male influence to help dictate my life. And gratefully, Theodore couldn’t, wouldn’t be that for me.

But Kurt was telling me, Jenny was telling me: “MEN DON’T PROTECT YOU ANYMORE.” It’s a good thing. Too much protection is atrophy. And safe was not the way to play with the kind of art I want to make. I always knew what the SpaceMan would say. I need empowerment, not protection.

2y.

The robe, also made by Brice, was supposed to mimic what the angels I grew up with were depicted to wear. It always seemed to be a low cut white robe (at least in my memory). It was always slightly sexualized. Or, maybe that was just me. Either way, this is rather accurate. And, Jose just has great chest hair.

2z.

Repetition of action again. It’s supposed to feel ritualized, serialized, rhythmic & worshipful even in the editing almost.

2A.

I love the fact that you can see Doug clearly here in the reflection filming with the Bolex, a rare glimpse of the Bolex itself on 16mm. It’s at once both the most surreal moment in the film & the most overtly blatant in challenging the verisimilitude of the vision happening with a clearly broken fourth-window. At the same time, I’m receiving golden plates.

2B.

This, to me, is just the epitome of speaking in my own language. Like Kate Kelly said in a statement about The Church sometime before or after getting ex-communicated for her feminist propagation (paraphrased), “Mormon is the house I grew up in.” To me, the image — the symbol — of a (Space)Man / Prophet / Moroni / (Male) Angel bestowing upon me my own set of gold plates is the narrative equivalent to empowerment. “The Priesthood” was all I ever wanted. Youngest child & the only girl, all I ever wanted was to be one of the boys, one of the future leaders. I manifested my own story where a loop hole was made for me.

2C.

This is the Deseret Alphabet.

2D.

I’m a big fan of the cheesy titles I have from this point on, little silent-movie tropes that pseudo “speak” for the SpaceMan. Here the Deseret Alphabet is “translated” for us by the spirit.

2E.

To hear the title in the film, have it sung in a theme song at this moment… it’s just so on point for the quirky line this film walks. It’s very reminiscent of the 80s, accented by the queued color change. It’s like it’s aware of exactly how earnest it all is.

2F.

Jose is actually miming the spray here, because we didn’t want to start blacking out my hair at this point, hadn’t officially revealed it yet or anything. But in the edit, I tried to get it to play like he was informing her of his intention to spray her…

2G.

And then, we introduce the TAR spray bottle. Brice actually made me a much better one. But, by this time in the day we hadn’t really mastered a way to get the black spray into that bottle. And, we were losing light & had to work fast, so we just taped the spray bottle in black electrical tape and stuck the “TAR” label to it. But then, Jose didn’t quite get the full label in the shot. And Doug, operating, couldn’t see well enough through the Bolex viewfinder to know. But, you know, no problem. Creative problem-solving… Sometimes I feel it’s best to lean in to a mistake rather than try to cover it up. Therefore, I employ my own sort of Holzer-like marquee & telegraph the “TAR” idea to you so you can’t miss it even if you try to escape.

2H.

Another thing I embrace & lean into is the use of bad sound effects. The whole thing is crafted through stock-quality effects that (I hope) underscore the “made” nature of the whole thing. Like this “spray can sound effect” — It’s supposed to sound too quintessential — on-the-nose — hyperreal.

2I.

This shot. This was the shot. The last shot of the day. The card on the GH5 was full & there wasn’t time to dump it. And, we were running out light for the Bolex. So, we just threw it all up there — the tar, the feathers, & the water. Yes, the idea is that it’s a ritualized, symbolic tar-&-feathering, an anointed rite as a metaphor for sainted hardship, playing on the idea that I learned to see persecution as a sign of being chosen. I represent it here as a beautiful thing — not lightly — but somehow in symbolic communion with my scarred ancestry.