The Blog of Ian Claudius

Chalk up hygiene and air-conditioning to the laundry list of “Things I take for granted.” There’s nothing quite like waking up at 5am, walking outside and having your shower immediately vetoed by the humidity of Shreveport. Then you realize it’s still dark, and there’s 14 hours to go. 12 on a perfect day, who knows on a bad one. We haven’t had one of those yet–of course we’re only on day 3–and I’m told things are running very smoothly so far. I have to be told this because I don’t really know the ebb and flow of principal photography–this is my first.

This puts me in the unique position of being blind to the fruits of our labor. Of course I can see the shots, hear the dialogue, everything. But there’s such a magnitude of work being put in, a lot of it that I don’t understand, to produce a finished product that I won’t see for several months. Because I’ve never been involved in film production, it’s difficult for me to see how all the elements will come together. It’s not “as it happens,” like with blogging or other media.

It’s the difference between tactics and grand strategy. You cannot afford to ignore either. Do the best photographers just “snap pictures,” or do they try to express a larger vision? Are you just trying to put words on a page, or are you telling a story? But they are interdependent, the menial supports the grand and vice versa. In movies, I can see how easy it might be to lose sight of either–you wouldn’t believe the ratio of man-hours to seconds of film until you witness it in person. It’s like watching people drag stones. They have their eyes on the summit, but they recognize the work it takes to get there.

I’ve worked lots of jobs with lots of people, but I’ve never really been in a position where I trust the people around me and their vision to really make something. In fact, I’ve never been around this many talented people period, the fact that we’re collaborating in an artistic effort–well, let’s just say that there’s no place I’d rather be, even if that place is wet, 95 degrees, and climbing.

Chaos is creativity’s alpha and omega. Ten pages of trash for one line of treasure. Some artists do better, and most never even find the one. Maybe they quit on page 9, maybe they don’t even try again.

Sometimes I wish I could just sit down and have the words just flow out of me. Some writers can do that. One fired synapse from thought to keystroke.

Me? It took me two fucking hours to write the above. That’s not typical, but it occurs when I’m not in my element. Probably why I’ve been having trouble blogging lately. Everything about my situation is the direct result of me purposefully taking myself OUT of my element.

Before I left Kansas City, I joked with my friends, “I can’t talk right now, I’m busy forgetting where I came from.” But that’s not too far off. I wasn’t where or who I wanted to be, so I decided to change. And despite the influx of experience, writing lately is a total grind, because I’m less certain of my words.

Now I realize: That knife’s edge is exactly where I want to be.

So a grind it is.

McNulty: I can see why Daniels cringes every time you open your fucking mouth: you’re a supervisor’s nightmare!

Lester: I’m just following the thread.

–The Wire

If you’re a parent, teacher, or government official, maybe you already know the word I’m talking about, probably dread the sound of it, and assuredly pay lip service to its importance.

But before I get all reflective, check out this video clip, which is a funny and useful take on the issue (skip ahead to 7:00 to see what I’m talking about):

What to take away from this (besides Louis CK being a good stand-up):

You can’t answer a kid’s question, they don’t accept any answer. A kid never goes, “oh thanks, I get it.” They fucking never say that. They just keep coming, more questions–why, why, why–until you don’t even know who the fuck you are anymore at the end of the conversation.

It’s no wonder children are discreetly ushered away from the question: Why is the tip of the spear against cognitive dissonance. But once we’re herded into confronting something we don’t understand or buried under layers of rationalization or wrong assumptions, this is where we falter. Literally, in this state we feel discomfort as a psychological response. In these situations, we often don’t ask why in order to find things out.  Instead, we are looking for an affirmation of our existing beliefs. What does this mean?

It means that in effect, people seek to make the most important, most human question of all rhetorical. What a monumental waste. And by the time we reach adulthood, we are just as conditioned to ask nonquestions as we are to accept nonanswers:

“That’s our policy.”

“It’s the law.”

“We’ve always done it that way.”

As a child, were you ever satisfied by because I said so? If you or your organization can only argue from authority or tradition, ask yourself how you got there, and if you have the will to change.

Or would you rather not hear the answer?

This 4th of July weekend is a sort of “last vacation” for me. Literally, since it will probably be the only significant time off for awhile as production steamrolls ahead. (”Time off” is relative as well–there’s still work being done.) But more importantly, it’s my last vacation on a personal level.

I look through my room, or all the “drafts” on my blog, and I see that the obvious problems (messy and unpublished, respectively) are symptomatic of something bigger.

I’ve been learning that, as much as turning pro requires a single commitment, it also requires lots of small, incremental changes. One fuels the other. You have to route every aspect of your actions and character and, as Tucker loves to say, recheck your assumptions. Does this behavior help me? Does it harm me or impede my progress? Or do the same for others? This process never ends for a person interested in growth.

I’m not there yet, I’m not even close. But now I finally feel like I’m starting to see where there is. I can see what I need to do.

Now with all the alcohol, smoked meat, projectiles and explosives hanging around (and the guys here who have received special training from the government to make use of them), I plan to make the most of it.

Some recent ones:

1. In a sweltering military surplus store in the middle of Fucking, Nowhere, where an old man was showing me the proper way to cinch an army duffle.
2. Trying not to get submitted in a matter of seconds by a Pan Am grappling bronze medalist. And failing.
3. Murph Pup chewing up my condoms. At least they weren’t used.
4. Prepping food for grilling with our director. Eating steaks and drinking the Kansas City beer I brought, bullshitting with the crew. Right before Jeff shoots me in the back with a BB gun.
5. 

Yeah, there may be a logical reason for each of these:

1. I needed the duffle for sandbag training.
2. I’m learning MMA.
3. Murph will eat anything that’s not [this space intentionally left blank].
4. Jeff tends to be around living things that are wounded, or dead things that were made so recently. Neither by coincidence.
5. Louisiana may be known as the “Sportsman’s Paradise,” but even a capital-S Sportsman takes a backseat to the Lord in Shreveport.

But even when there’s a sensical chain of events leading to a surreal moment, it’s always nice when you realize one for what it is.