I’m really behind with this journal.
While Poland was part work and part vacation, filming in Detroit is part work and another part work. Detroit Lives! has a lot more going on than this film- and with a few different art fairs this weekend, last week was intense. Philip had to print about 300 shirts. Converting the basement studio into a mini assembly line where we could work and sing along to REM’s “Monster” wouldn’t normally be such a chore. But, of course, we couldn’t start that work, until we had finished this work…
Detroit Interviews: Week One
Detroit needs money; Detroit needs business… So we spoke to the head of Tech Town: a business incubator that helps startups get off the ground. Partnering with Wayne State University, they have the resources to help everyone from the little guy printing bumper stickers to scientists breaking new ground in biomedical research.
Philip Cooley, a local restaurant owner, is fostering his own sort of creative incubator. By buying an abandoned factory, he’s fixing it up to house creative ventures, like Adriana Pavon’s fashion design studio, with the expectation that his residents spend some of their time mentoring local youth.
Detroit is reclaiming some of its old business community as well. Skidmore Studios flocked to the suburbs a few decades ago, but now, government incentives and city tax breaks make the move back Downtown a no-brainer for owner Tim Smith. Plus, his new offices are going to have a sweet view of Comerica Park.
Some people might ask- “why do businesses get tax breaks while the city is forced to lay off police officers?” Well, we spoke to one Internet entrepreneur who, among other ideas, is proposing a tax system involving an interactive “Sim City” type map where taxpayers could choose where their funds are allocated.
Detroit Soup is one way to see how community money is being spent (it’s also a way to GET some community money). This micro-funding platform is a monthly dinner open to the public where people pay $10 at the door and anyone can pitch their ideas for community improvement projects. At the end, everyone votes, and the winner gets the door. Past winners include a fashion designer who wanted to produce coats that convert into sleeping bags for the homeless and transforming a vacant lot into a sculpture park.
City beautification doesn’t cost much at all. Chazz Miller with Public Art Workz convinced the owner of a run-down factory to rent him the space for nothing more than the cost of fixing it up. Now, the factory has become an entire compound for artists as they paint murals around town, teach classes and mentor kids. And their activity has even spurred development of other storefronts on the block.
Then there’s the Heidelberg Project- a block of rotting houses that became home to an eccentric artist in the mid-80s. He painted one house with polka dots, then he built sculptures out of rusted shopping carts or whatever else he could find… then he painted another house, he covered another with thrown-out stuffed animals… 25 years later, thousands of tourists come to visit, kids hang out to learn how to paint, and the locals pitch in to keep it looking nice. That’s neighborhood pride.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
the passing of a Detroit great
We start the bulk of our interviews this week, and just like Poland we’re going nonstop for two weeks, often sitting down with three people in one day. Same drill: politicians, artists, entrepreneurs…
It’s unfortunate that one artist we’ll never get the chance to talk to. David Blair was a poet and songwriter who had moved to Detroit 15 years ago, and it was clear from the start, this man was more than an autoworker. The way he worked with words… simply amazing. About a year ago, Philip interviewed him for another project and developed a friendship with him. But just as Philip returned from Europe, looking forward to reconnect with him, he got word that Blair had passed away.
Using the old footage, we cut a piece to honor the man who had the ability to change the lyrical landscape of art… if only he had a little more time. RIP.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huWvgWihtXg&hd=1
And if you’re a fan of ‘The Simpsons,’ make sure to look up a video of his poem “My name is Karl.”
It’s unfortunate that one artist we’ll never get the chance to talk to. David Blair was a poet and songwriter who had moved to Detroit 15 years ago, and it was clear from the start, this man was more than an autoworker. The way he worked with words… simply amazing. About a year ago, Philip interviewed him for another project and developed a friendship with him. But just as Philip returned from Europe, looking forward to reconnect with him, he got word that Blair had passed away.
Using the old footage, we cut a piece to honor the man who had the ability to change the lyrical landscape of art… if only he had a little more time. RIP.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=huWvgWihtXg&hd=1
And if you’re a fan of ‘The Simpsons,’ make sure to look up a video of his poem “My name is Karl.”
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
back in the zone
It took all forms of transportation to get me out of Paris- a train to the north coast, a taxi to the port, a ferry to England, a bus to London…
My flight was early the next morning out of Heathrow, so when I was looking for a place to stay, the choice was a no-brainer: my very first couch surfing hosts! As I rolled my luggage down the narrow streets of Dulwich to Ramon and Ronald’s quaint townhouse, the trip came full circle. Ronald cooked dinner just like he had nearly two months ago, and as I ate and reminisced about the trip, it made me sorry I couldn’t do the same with everyone else I’d met on the trip.
I flew across the Atlantic, coming to terms with the fact that my European adventure was over (for now).
but no time to look back; I've got another half a documentary to shoot.
The sun was shining in good ol’ Detroit as Philip picked me up from the airport yesterday. Great to reunite with my long lost partner in crime. And great to get rid of some extra baggage I had been lugging around the past month…
I didn’t really buy souvenirs, but there was one item I HAD to get back to the states. It was my quest. It’s something Philip and I had been searching for ever since we set foot in Poland. So when the item was bestowed upon me only days after Philip had departed for the US, I knew I had a job to do- I had to get it back. It was huge, heavy and breakable, but everywhere I went, I carefully packed it into my suitcase. Didn’t matter if I got stopped at customs; I had to try. And after all that… it’s here...
…A giant jar of homemade polish pickles.
[thanks, Malwina ☺]
We kicked back and munched on the sweet dills as we swapped stories of the past month.
Later that evening, we headed to an event at the Detroit Creative Corridor Center (dc3). Philip’s company Detroit Lives! is going to be working with the dc3’s business incubator program. They’re setting him and other local entrepreneurs up with collaborative office space, connecting them with marketing experts, and doing whatever else they can to help these small ventures grow.
Philp and the other entrepreneurs got recognized, I got to meet a lot of the people we’re going to be interviewing for the documentary, and there was a kick-ass buffet with free drinks.
I think some people went to a bar afterward, but I wouldn’t know. I was asleep by 10.
It had been a long 48 hours of traveling. It had been a long two months.
Today, consider me on Eastern time.
My flight was early the next morning out of Heathrow, so when I was looking for a place to stay, the choice was a no-brainer: my very first couch surfing hosts! As I rolled my luggage down the narrow streets of Dulwich to Ramon and Ronald’s quaint townhouse, the trip came full circle. Ronald cooked dinner just like he had nearly two months ago, and as I ate and reminisced about the trip, it made me sorry I couldn’t do the same with everyone else I’d met on the trip.
I flew across the Atlantic, coming to terms with the fact that my European adventure was over (for now).
but no time to look back; I've got another half a documentary to shoot.
The sun was shining in good ol’ Detroit as Philip picked me up from the airport yesterday. Great to reunite with my long lost partner in crime. And great to get rid of some extra baggage I had been lugging around the past month…
I didn’t really buy souvenirs, but there was one item I HAD to get back to the states. It was my quest. It’s something Philip and I had been searching for ever since we set foot in Poland. So when the item was bestowed upon me only days after Philip had departed for the US, I knew I had a job to do- I had to get it back. It was huge, heavy and breakable, but everywhere I went, I carefully packed it into my suitcase. Didn’t matter if I got stopped at customs; I had to try. And after all that… it’s here...
…A giant jar of homemade polish pickles.
[thanks, Malwina ☺]
We kicked back and munched on the sweet dills as we swapped stories of the past month.
Later that evening, we headed to an event at the Detroit Creative Corridor Center (dc3). Philip’s company Detroit Lives! is going to be working with the dc3’s business incubator program. They’re setting him and other local entrepreneurs up with collaborative office space, connecting them with marketing experts, and doing whatever else they can to help these small ventures grow.
Philp and the other entrepreneurs got recognized, I got to meet a lot of the people we’re going to be interviewing for the documentary, and there was a kick-ass buffet with free drinks.
I think some people went to a bar afterward, but I wouldn’t know. I was asleep by 10.
It had been a long 48 hours of traveling. It had been a long two months.
Today, consider me on Eastern time.
Monday, July 11, 2011
let’s go
I have two speeds in life- frantic and stopped. In Paris, I got my share of both.
The first few days were something out of a Hemingway novel. I’d make coffee, camp out with the ex-pats at a quaint English bookstore, read, write, walk on the riverbank, drink, smoke, discuss the expanding universe and how insignificant life is…
But before long, it was time to shift gears. John and I were determined to make something of our time together, and when we first talked about my visit, he had said four words I can never argue with, “let’s make a movie.”
My Parisian lifestyle made it pretty easy to write the script, but that’s about the only thing that came easy. We had to hold auditions, buy props, borrow lights, not to mention, the script had to be translated (Like I’m not gonna capitalize on my chance to use pretentious French subtitles).
Then, my final two days in France, we had to shoot it… that’s when things really got crazy.
Our director of photography was a friend of John’s who films commercials for a living- a real pro. Just one problem: he barely spoke English. The actors playing the French characters were the same way.
Communication on set was a cluster-fuck buzzing around John-the-translator as everything had to be explained at least twice.
No time for rescheduling; no time for pickups; no time for explaining things twice! We had two days!
It was exhausting, it was frustrating… and it was totally worth it.
Don’t ask me when I’m going to have time to edit yet another movie.
I prefer frantic over stopped.
Maybe that’s why I don’t get along with Hemingway. For me, his stories just amount to a waste of time. Except for one- his very first short story- ‘Up in Michigan.’
Damn… that reminds me…
Next stop: Michigan.
The first few days were something out of a Hemingway novel. I’d make coffee, camp out with the ex-pats at a quaint English bookstore, read, write, walk on the riverbank, drink, smoke, discuss the expanding universe and how insignificant life is…
But before long, it was time to shift gears. John and I were determined to make something of our time together, and when we first talked about my visit, he had said four words I can never argue with, “let’s make a movie.”
My Parisian lifestyle made it pretty easy to write the script, but that’s about the only thing that came easy. We had to hold auditions, buy props, borrow lights, not to mention, the script had to be translated (Like I’m not gonna capitalize on my chance to use pretentious French subtitles).
Then, my final two days in France, we had to shoot it… that’s when things really got crazy.
Our director of photography was a friend of John’s who films commercials for a living- a real pro. Just one problem: he barely spoke English. The actors playing the French characters were the same way.
Communication on set was a cluster-fuck buzzing around John-the-translator as everything had to be explained at least twice.
No time for rescheduling; no time for pickups; no time for explaining things twice! We had two days!
It was exhausting, it was frustrating… and it was totally worth it.
Don’t ask me when I’m going to have time to edit yet another movie.
I prefer frantic over stopped.
Maybe that’s why I don’t get along with Hemingway. For me, his stories just amount to a waste of time. Except for one- his very first short story- ‘Up in Michigan.’
Damn… that reminds me…
Next stop: Michigan.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
i could live here
I’ve never wanted to visit Paris. I only went for two reasons: a friend and a free place to stay.
Slight problem: how to get there.
A week out, plane and train tickets were too expensive, so a friend in Duisburg helped me surf the European hitchhiking sites (or as they call it “ride sharing”). Brilliant. You plug in your destination, and it tells you all the people in your area who are driving there. I got in touch with a guy from France who was visiting his girlfriend for the weekend in Dusseldorf (the neighboring city of Duisburg), and after I slipped him 35€ for gas, we were on our way.
Of course, this traveling Frenchman’s a pro, so we stopped at two train stations along the way to pick up a couple more prearranged hitchhikers, but I didn’t mind – good excuse to see more towns in Germany and Belgium.
Arrived a little after 10pm, and met up with my good friend John. He moved to Paris almost seven years ago, and I hadn’t seen him in… well, almost seven years. Crazy. So awesome to reconnect. And like any friend from the old days, it seems exactly like the old days.
John’s got a tiny apartment in the heart of the city. It’s the kind of location where anyone, tourists and locals alike, would kill to live. Bars, museums, Notre Dame- they’re just outside his doorstep. However, it’s so tiny I’d have to sleep on the floor… so I’m not staying there.
The day I got into town, John’s friend, who lives around the corner, just happened to be leaving town… and she needed someone to feed her cat… and watch her apartment.
Oh. My. God.
Who says I suck at timing.
Right now, I’m sitting in my own apartment in the center of Paris. And I’ve got a cat.
Slight problem: how to get there.
A week out, plane and train tickets were too expensive, so a friend in Duisburg helped me surf the European hitchhiking sites (or as they call it “ride sharing”). Brilliant. You plug in your destination, and it tells you all the people in your area who are driving there. I got in touch with a guy from France who was visiting his girlfriend for the weekend in Dusseldorf (the neighboring city of Duisburg), and after I slipped him 35€ for gas, we were on our way.
Of course, this traveling Frenchman’s a pro, so we stopped at two train stations along the way to pick up a couple more prearranged hitchhikers, but I didn’t mind – good excuse to see more towns in Germany and Belgium.
Arrived a little after 10pm, and met up with my good friend John. He moved to Paris almost seven years ago, and I hadn’t seen him in… well, almost seven years. Crazy. So awesome to reconnect. And like any friend from the old days, it seems exactly like the old days.
John’s got a tiny apartment in the heart of the city. It’s the kind of location where anyone, tourists and locals alike, would kill to live. Bars, museums, Notre Dame- they’re just outside his doorstep. However, it’s so tiny I’d have to sleep on the floor… so I’m not staying there.
The day I got into town, John’s friend, who lives around the corner, just happened to be leaving town… and she needed someone to feed her cat… and watch her apartment.
Oh. My. God.
Who says I suck at timing.
Right now, I’m sitting in my own apartment in the center of Paris. And I’ve got a cat.
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