Unacceptable.
Twitter Haiku
6 years ago
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Once Upon A Time...
I sat down to write part 3 of the tadpole monologues and got an email from Jason in Ireland. He wanted a "Once Upon A Time..." story for his message this weekend. He wanted something about God's redeemed work. I have no idea if this is what he wanted. I honestly don't know if it's good. I started writing and hit send when it was "done." I didn't even proofread it. And now, I'm copying and pasting, sans proofread. If it sucks, ah well. I kind of warned you, right?
Once upon a time, in a small village outside Capital City, there lived a young inventor. His name was, and still is Edgar. He is an old man now and no longer inventing. In fact, he stopped so long ago that nobody in the village remembers his old trade. Why did he stop, you ask? That's what I'm going to tell you.
When Edgar was young he impressed everyone with his imagination and ability to create something out of nothing. He could walk into any shop and know what the shop owner needed to improve efficiency. The baker needed a better shaker. The florist needed her scissors repurposed. He was well-loved throughout the village.
One summer Edgar became fascinated with marbles. No one knows why, but he spent sun up to sun down creating new kinds of marbles. Green swirls mixed with bronze bursts. Red sparkles sprinkled through ivory folds. He made big ones, small ones, round ones and even square ones. The squares didn't work like he hoped. His marbles were gorgeous and for a few weeks he couldn't make enough to meet the village's demand. So he hired help. He spent his life savings on a larger furnace and took trips to India in search of exotic sands.
When he returned, kids no longer played marbles. They swung hoops around their hips instead. Edgar had all the supply but no demand. His business crumbled. Edgar had nothing except regret. He stopped coming out. People would walk by his shop and talk about how sad it was that the marble maker had given up. His former customers turned into adults and Edgar turned into an old man that most everyone half remembers.
Then a Stranger came to town. In some ways, He was like Edgar. He knew what people needed and knew how to fix things. He seemed to be half counselor and half inventor. This Stranger pretty quickly stumbled into Edgar's old marble shop. He found Edgar in the corner, behind bag after bag of sand. The Stranger didn't say anything. Neither did Edgar but he watched as the Stranger began examining the bags.
Soon, that examining turned into hauling. The Stranger was dragging the sand towards the furnace. Edgar kept watching from afar. Eventually the Stranger stopped working and came to talk to Edgar. They spoke about the day Edgar came back from India. Edgar told him how he lost everything. The Stranger listened to Edgar's sad story. When he finished the Stranger looked around at all the bags, the dusty furnace, the tools, everything. There was an awkward silence in the room. Edgar felt uneasy and the Stranger knew it.
"I can fix it." The Stranger said. Edgar half believed him but didn't know why and didn't say anything.
"Do you want me to fix it?" The Stranger asked.
"Very much." Edgar said ever so meekly.
The Stranger stood and helped Edgar to his feet. He began walking the old, bent-over Edgar around the shop. The same shop the younger Edgar used to skip through creating all sorts of things. Now it was just full of bags reminding him of his failures.
The Stranger taught Edgar a skill he must've learned in one of the other villages He'd been to. Even Edgar, a lifelong inventor had seen it before. They spent days working in the shop from sun up to sun down.
Finally, Edgar and the Stranger emerged from the shop. Edgar was holding his creation- a beautiful, blown-glass vase full of the most exotic colors the village had ever seen. Indigos danced with marigolds. Violets vibrated throughout periwinkles. People flocked towards Edward to see the vase. Immediately, he was taking orders. People wanted them for their living rooms, dining rooms, bathrooms even.
As they shouted the Stranger slipped away. He watched Edgar smile for the first time in years. Edgar saw the Stranger right before he left for good. They made eye contact. Edgar wanted to thank him but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all. He silently thanked the Stranger with his vase in hand. What was once a source of paralyzing shame and regret, was now something extraordinarily beautiful.
The Stranger fixed it. Just like He promised.
Once upon a time, in a small village outside Capital City, there lived a young inventor. His name was, and still is Edgar. He is an old man now and no longer inventing. In fact, he stopped so long ago that nobody in the village remembers his old trade. Why did he stop, you ask? That's what I'm going to tell you.
When Edgar was young he impressed everyone with his imagination and ability to create something out of nothing. He could walk into any shop and know what the shop owner needed to improve efficiency. The baker needed a better shaker. The florist needed her scissors repurposed. He was well-loved throughout the village.
One summer Edgar became fascinated with marbles. No one knows why, but he spent sun up to sun down creating new kinds of marbles. Green swirls mixed with bronze bursts. Red sparkles sprinkled through ivory folds. He made big ones, small ones, round ones and even square ones. The squares didn't work like he hoped. His marbles were gorgeous and for a few weeks he couldn't make enough to meet the village's demand. So he hired help. He spent his life savings on a larger furnace and took trips to India in search of exotic sands.
When he returned, kids no longer played marbles. They swung hoops around their hips instead. Edgar had all the supply but no demand. His business crumbled. Edgar had nothing except regret. He stopped coming out. People would walk by his shop and talk about how sad it was that the marble maker had given up. His former customers turned into adults and Edgar turned into an old man that most everyone half remembers.
Then a Stranger came to town. In some ways, He was like Edgar. He knew what people needed and knew how to fix things. He seemed to be half counselor and half inventor. This Stranger pretty quickly stumbled into Edgar's old marble shop. He found Edgar in the corner, behind bag after bag of sand. The Stranger didn't say anything. Neither did Edgar but he watched as the Stranger began examining the bags.
Soon, that examining turned into hauling. The Stranger was dragging the sand towards the furnace. Edgar kept watching from afar. Eventually the Stranger stopped working and came to talk to Edgar. They spoke about the day Edgar came back from India. Edgar told him how he lost everything. The Stranger listened to Edgar's sad story. When he finished the Stranger looked around at all the bags, the dusty furnace, the tools, everything. There was an awkward silence in the room. Edgar felt uneasy and the Stranger knew it.
"I can fix it." The Stranger said. Edgar half believed him but didn't know why and didn't say anything.
"Do you want me to fix it?" The Stranger asked.
"Very much." Edgar said ever so meekly.
The Stranger stood and helped Edgar to his feet. He began walking the old, bent-over Edgar around the shop. The same shop the younger Edgar used to skip through creating all sorts of things. Now it was just full of bags reminding him of his failures.
The Stranger taught Edgar a skill he must've learned in one of the other villages He'd been to. Even Edgar, a lifelong inventor had seen it before. They spent days working in the shop from sun up to sun down.
Finally, Edgar and the Stranger emerged from the shop. Edgar was holding his creation- a beautiful, blown-glass vase full of the most exotic colors the village had ever seen. Indigos danced with marigolds. Violets vibrated throughout periwinkles. People flocked towards Edward to see the vase. Immediately, he was taking orders. People wanted them for their living rooms, dining rooms, bathrooms even.
As they shouted the Stranger slipped away. He watched Edgar smile for the first time in years. Edgar saw the Stranger right before he left for good. They made eye contact. Edgar wanted to thank him but he didn't need to. His eyes said it all. He silently thanked the Stranger with his vase in hand. What was once a source of paralyzing shame and regret, was now something extraordinarily beautiful.
The Stranger fixed it. Just like He promised.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Tadpole to Frog (part 2)
Thought #2: Tadpoles need legs.For me, once the initial idea starts growing legs I look to my network to help pull them out. A creative's network is as valuable as their creativity. There are different types of people I think you need to have in your network. The first and most crucial (in my opinion) is having a Red.
Reds are people who can get their hands on things. They know people who know people who know people. I have a couple Reds in my network. One of them is Donna. She is usually my first call once I kind of start figuring out what my idea is. I called her when I decided I wanted a female Brit to read the Wind poem. I also emailed, called, txt'd other people with applicable networks (a colleague in ireland, a colleague at the other large church in town, Sean Murphy). I've learned that on time-sensitive, big asks you need to have multiple irons in the fire.
Awhile back we had a project where I needed over 2,000 bricks and had zero dollars to spend. I called Donna who called her husband (a builder). He gave me the name of a company. It didn't pan out so I called Donna back to brainstorm other options. She made more calls and in a day a few tons of bricks showed up at our doorstep. A good Red cares enough about you and your projects that they keep working their networks until they find you your bricks, brits and balloons. (I had to think of another B that someone helped me find, and Sean found me a 16ft weather balloon once).
Another type of person(s) you need in your network are Masters. These are folks who are experts at certain things. Luckily, I have lots of these. Sometimes the legs of an idea are formed by the Masters you know. When I started writing both A Cat Named Bruce and The {RE} Gifter I knew I needed a rotating stage for the former and a giant screen for the latter. So right from the beginning I called Greg. He can make anything and I needed his go-ahead before I could proceed much further than a few pages of writing. On the Saturday morning I walked down my stairs and had the idea for The {RE} Gifter I called Steve . I knew there would be a junk sculpture aspect to the story and so I knew I needed a Master sculptor to help me figure out what that would look like. Masters are most effective when brought in as soon as you know you need them. They know things you don't and can share their knowledge even before they share their actual skill. Another key person(s) in your network are Bouncers. Not the beefy doorkeepers, but someone you can bounce your idea off of and expect honest, good feedback. After the Wind video idea grew some legs I bounced it off Isaac. He gave me key feedback that helped mold and shape the idea into something better. I have folks on IM who I constantly send graphics to and say, "What do you think?" I have friends who I can email tadpole ideas and know that they'll tell me if I have something that deserves development or death. It's key that your Bouncers aren't scared by ideas. They need to be folks who know you and trust that you can actually figure out ways to pull stuff off. Bouncers typically can get excited about ideas without having to see much beyond the tadpole stage. They will even say things like, "You know what'd be cool is if you did this..."
Bouncers are important throughout the entire creative process. Perhaps you have different Bouncers for different stages. For example, if you have a Bouncer who helped you throughout then they probably aren't the Bouncer you need AFTER it's finished. They're too invested. So find uninvested, unbiased folks who can be your post Bouncers to critique the end product. You also may have folks who are unable to see or understand infant ideas but can give great feedback in the refining stage.
Ideas can breed community and collaboration. The good ones always do. Start identifying the Reds, Masters and Bouncers in your network. They're the folks who will help give your idea legs. And without legs your idea is just bar talk. So think of it this way: Your network is what helps turn bar talk into bar celebration. Both are good. One is better.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tadpole to Frog (part 1)
I run into lots of people with great ideas. Most of those ideas never leave their brain or have life outside of conversations that start with, "So I have this idea..." Most book, invention, restaurant, video, prank ideas never become anything more than that-ideas. I have a billion currrently collecting dust in my brain. So I thought I'd write a series of posts about the creative process I try and use that can turn brainstorms into real storms. The kind of storms that soak fools with your awesome geniusness.(First off you have to read the post before this. I'll reference it a good deal)
Thought #1: Tadpoles need food.
Your brilliant idea = a tadpole. By itself it's fascinating, full of potential and alive. But it's got a long ways to go to become a fly-eating, pad-jumping frog. The tadpole idea we had for the Wind poem was simply, "let's do something with it." I didn't know what we should do. The possibilities were somewhat endless a bunch immediately filled my head. This can be overwhelming. Which is why the first couple steps beyond this idea-conception are extremely important. Generally speaking you can go two different directions.
1. this is impossible, I'll go eat snacks instead.
2. this is possible.
I decided it was possible to do something with the wind poem. The next step was going to a place that fed that idea. I'm no biologist but I bet that's what tadpoles do. So I started in a place where I knew I'd find a concentrated amount of inspiration- image search + music. Images and music inspire me. The images help define, redefine, add onto, morph my initial ideas. The music must cultivate my brain in some way.
What feeds your creative side? A good movie? A trip to the park, museum, root beer stand? What gets your juices flowing? And a key question: what "food source" do you need in that particular moment. Different sources work better for different projects AND different stages of the same project.
When I'm in the brainstorming stage I need energetic input. Lots of different images, upbeat music, videos, IM conversations with friends, drives thru neighborhoods I've never been. But when I'm past that stage I change my food source. I even change the time of day I feed. When I'm writing a script or fine-tuning an idea I turn to the morning hour and make lots of coffee and fill the room with jazz. I wrote every single page of my latest screenplay to classic jazz. Miles and Coltrane plowed the soil of my brain matter. Whereas, Death Cab, Radiohead, The Yeah Yeah Yeahs influenced the Wind video.
So be aware of what kind of food you need in those early stages of idea-conception. It's more important than we realize. The wrong kind or not enough nourishment in those first moments determine if your lil' tadpole will grow legs. That's what we'll talk about next.
Part Two
Part Three
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Evolution of an idea
People ask me a lot how we come up with ideas for stuff. We did the below video this weekend and I got asked that very question a few times. So here's how it went down. Sorry it's a little long. The scary thing is that I'm probably forgetting steps.
Saturday, Dave (senior pastor) told me he had a poem that he wanted to "do something with" for next weekend. I told him to email it to me. He also told me the author was British.
Monday, Dave sent the poem.
Tuesday, I started to look around the internet for photos of wind for a few hours while listening to alternative indie rock on Pandora. As I searched I thought about how to use said photos. I considered for a moment getting someone to do interpretive dance (honestly) but then thought about how I hate interpretive dance. I decided to just do a video with someone reading the poem. I talked to Jim Zartman about doing a music bed. He agreed but needed the reading of the poem asap. So I started digging thru my network to find a female brit. I sent various emails, calls, txts and ended up getting a decent confirmation from some friends in Ireland. They would send something Wednesday.
I kept searching for images and thinking. I decided I didn't want to just do a standard deal where photos fade in and out. Suck it, Ken Burns. I thought about having a female hold printed out photos and flip thru them. That turned into her holding collages of photos. Then I re-read the poem. That line, "Who has seen the wind?" was used twice. That made me think of someone hanging flyers on telephone poles, "Have you seen this cat?" So I thought, could a female walk down the street hanging flyers of wind on poles? I thought it'd be cool to have the poles be in a cool area of town. Ludlow. Kind of artsy. So with that neighborhood, the irish voiceover, I thought if I had an African American actress who could pull off a bohemian look that could give the whole thing a very eclectic, funky feel. I went upstairs and told Isaac (video guy) the idea. He said nothing. I asked if he was processing or disliking. He was processing. He said for it to work the images would have to justify being printed out. They needed texture or something. I thought that added to the eclectic idea brilliantly.
Wednesday, got the voiceover from Ireland. It was spot on. I decided to write the lines of the poem on each flyer so no one would complain about not being able to understand the reading. And it seemed cool for the girl to leave the poem thru the city. I got ahold of the actress I wanted, Susan, who was into the idea. We couldn't shoot the video until Friday because of other projects and it was raining all week. I spent the rest of the day doing other stuff.
Thursday, I printed off the photos and heard the track that Jim created. He nailed it. I did other stuff (including shooting a video of Nora the singing dog) for the rest of the day.
Friday, I played arts and crafts all morning and after lunch. I brought in a bunch of funky papers that Leah had, I bought a newspaper and I sat on my floor taping stuff together creating the "flyers." I made sure they had texture, depth and the ability to blow in the wind. While doing this I thought about how the piece needed a beginning and end. So I thought the opening shot could be her crossing the street to start and the end could be her walking away from her work. Isaac liked this. He went and shot the piece and got done just as the rain started.
Saturday morning, Isaac cut it together. We talked about it (him in cincy and me in fremont, ohio) made a couple tweaks, and ended up with this...
Saturday, Dave (senior pastor) told me he had a poem that he wanted to "do something with" for next weekend. I told him to email it to me. He also told me the author was British.
Monday, Dave sent the poem.
Tuesday, I started to look around the internet for photos of wind for a few hours while listening to alternative indie rock on Pandora. As I searched I thought about how to use said photos. I considered for a moment getting someone to do interpretive dance (honestly) but then thought about how I hate interpretive dance. I decided to just do a video with someone reading the poem. I talked to Jim Zartman about doing a music bed. He agreed but needed the reading of the poem asap. So I started digging thru my network to find a female brit. I sent various emails, calls, txts and ended up getting a decent confirmation from some friends in Ireland. They would send something Wednesday.
I kept searching for images and thinking. I decided I didn't want to just do a standard deal where photos fade in and out. Suck it, Ken Burns. I thought about having a female hold printed out photos and flip thru them. That turned into her holding collages of photos. Then I re-read the poem. That line, "Who has seen the wind?" was used twice. That made me think of someone hanging flyers on telephone poles, "Have you seen this cat?" So I thought, could a female walk down the street hanging flyers of wind on poles? I thought it'd be cool to have the poles be in a cool area of town. Ludlow. Kind of artsy. So with that neighborhood, the irish voiceover, I thought if I had an African American actress who could pull off a bohemian look that could give the whole thing a very eclectic, funky feel. I went upstairs and told Isaac (video guy) the idea. He said nothing. I asked if he was processing or disliking. He was processing. He said for it to work the images would have to justify being printed out. They needed texture or something. I thought that added to the eclectic idea brilliantly.
Wednesday, got the voiceover from Ireland. It was spot on. I decided to write the lines of the poem on each flyer so no one would complain about not being able to understand the reading. And it seemed cool for the girl to leave the poem thru the city. I got ahold of the actress I wanted, Susan, who was into the idea. We couldn't shoot the video until Friday because of other projects and it was raining all week. I spent the rest of the day doing other stuff.
Thursday, I printed off the photos and heard the track that Jim created. He nailed it. I did other stuff (including shooting a video of Nora the singing dog) for the rest of the day.
Friday, I played arts and crafts all morning and after lunch. I brought in a bunch of funky papers that Leah had, I bought a newspaper and I sat on my floor taping stuff together creating the "flyers." I made sure they had texture, depth and the ability to blow in the wind. While doing this I thought about how the piece needed a beginning and end. So I thought the opening shot could be her crossing the street to start and the end could be her walking away from her work. Isaac liked this. He went and shot the piece and got done just as the rain started.
Saturday morning, Isaac cut it together. We talked about it (him in cincy and me in fremont, ohio) made a couple tweaks, and ended up with this...
Monday, May 4, 2009
Deluxe Hugs
In the comments section I put my thoughts about the ending. Read them AFTER you watch it. Leah, this means you.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Who Has Seen The Wind?
We're doing a video with this poem this weekend that I'm very excited about. I've never gotten into poetry but something about this one really spoke to me. Especially when you hear it read by an irish woman and set it to music. If anyone has any poetry that feels similar to this, please pass it along. I may give it (and peace) a chance.
Who Has Seen The Wind?
by Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Who Has Seen The Wind?
by Christina Rossetti
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Cool Kid Table (commissioned by Paul Smiley)
Kyle was in the bathroom when he heard the oven timer go off. Fifth period. Lunch. He walked downstairs and his classmates were fighting in line waiting to wash their hands at the kitchen sink.
"Quit pinching." Karin (the oldest) said and kicked backwards.
"Quit kicking." Kenneth (the youngest) yelled.
"I will when you will!" Karin added.
"I will when you quit hogging." Kenneth was ready to eat.
Their mom yelled from the living room, "Karin and Kenneth! Quit yelling. Kyle, are you out there?"
"Yeah." Kyle mumbled.
"Come get your geometry worksheet before lunch."
"Can I get it after?" Kyle asked, waiting behind Kenneth at the sink.
"What'd I say?"
"Fine." Kyle shuffled out. Karin threw the towel at Kenneth and walked to the fridge. She grabbed two Hot Pockets and a gallon of whole milk.
"Mom, do we have any soy milk?" Karin yelled.
Her mom yelled back, "What? No! That's not good for you." Back to Kyle, "Do you have the hall pass?"
"I left it upstairs." Kyle muttered.
"Get it after lunch. Here. Put this in your blue folder and go wash up." She handed him the worksheet. Kyle put it with the others and went back to the kitchen. Kenneth was already sitting waiting for Karin to bring the Hot Pockets. Kyle finished washing his hands.
"Did you make me one?" He said to Karin.
"Yeah, right." She laughed.
Kyle looked over at his little brother. "Can I sit with you guys today?"
"Yeah, right." Kenneth also laughed.
Kyle looked back at his older sister. "Do we have any Hot Pockets left?"
"No. Just Lean Pockets." Karin served Kenneth and sat down. Kyle shuffled over to the freezer. He pulled out the Lean Pockets. He wanted to yell at his mom. He wanted to tell her she's as bad at shopping as she is geometry. He didn't. He already had two detentions that week.
"Quit pinching." Karin (the oldest) said and kicked backwards.
"Quit kicking." Kenneth (the youngest) yelled.
"I will when you will!" Karin added.
"I will when you quit hogging." Kenneth was ready to eat.
Their mom yelled from the living room, "Karin and Kenneth! Quit yelling. Kyle, are you out there?"
"Yeah." Kyle mumbled.
"Come get your geometry worksheet before lunch."
"Can I get it after?" Kyle asked, waiting behind Kenneth at the sink.
"What'd I say?"
"Fine." Kyle shuffled out. Karin threw the towel at Kenneth and walked to the fridge. She grabbed two Hot Pockets and a gallon of whole milk.
"Mom, do we have any soy milk?" Karin yelled.
Her mom yelled back, "What? No! That's not good for you." Back to Kyle, "Do you have the hall pass?"
"I left it upstairs." Kyle muttered.
"Get it after lunch. Here. Put this in your blue folder and go wash up." She handed him the worksheet. Kyle put it with the others and went back to the kitchen. Kenneth was already sitting waiting for Karin to bring the Hot Pockets. Kyle finished washing his hands.
"Did you make me one?" He said to Karin.
"Yeah, right." She laughed.
Kyle looked over at his little brother. "Can I sit with you guys today?"
"Yeah, right." Kenneth also laughed.
Kyle looked back at his older sister. "Do we have any Hot Pockets left?"
"No. Just Lean Pockets." Karin served Kenneth and sat down. Kyle shuffled over to the freezer. He pulled out the Lean Pockets. He wanted to yell at his mom. He wanted to tell her she's as bad at shopping as she is geometry. He didn't. He already had two detentions that week.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)