"MODEL / PHOTOGRAPHER" - an ELOQUENT GRAFFITI prelude – a film by SABI
- Thread starter Zak Forsman
- Start date
ConspiracyPenguin
Nosey Penguin
Great podcast. Those test shots were fantastic! Really looking forward to this. 
Zak Forsman
Major Contributor
written by Daniel J. Carmody...
HENRY – “Hello, is there anybody out there?”
Turn of the century size 7 British oxfords lay like Irish wolfhounds at the ready next to the still feet of Henry, mid-twenties, distinctly dressed in thrift clothes bigger then his body yet smaller then his brilliance. An adventure-tarnished silver pocket watch rebelliously races along on the desk in front of him. His eyes closed, his mind elsewhere, A series of bright colors repeat over the peaceful demeanor painted across his face. His laptop, opened, displaying a video on repeat of a man playing guitar on a busy street corner, cut to surfers crashing against the glory of unsettled surf, cut to miles of white Christmas lighted traffic running across an endless highway, cut to garbage sailing in the breeze then hastily testing the resilience of a chain link fence, cut to Henry. His eyes rarely making acquaintances with the camera, he instead keeps is eyes off in the distance, searching.
An overexcited voice follows the sound, a door closing. Henry comes to, blinks blankly at the screen of his laptop and quickly shuts it, trapping the luminosity of his visual journal safely inside. He slips on his shoes, gets out of his chair and slips on a long tarnished wool coat, placing his cherished timepiece inside his left inner coat pocket. He lastly grabs a scarf off the top of his room door which had been left ajar the whole time.
She stands there in the shadow of the kitchen cupboard at the end of the hallway. Her breathing sounds like distant echoes of hope from a time long before the silence that filled the void between them now. To say that the resurfaced tile that dotted the hallway was the only thing that stood between them would be a lie. The coldness of the void worked its way to the back of his neck, and quickly he was filled with that nagging sense of loneliness that he couldn’t cure. He searched for a less pathetic reason for his forthcoming absence, yet couldn’t find anything less truthful then, “I have to step out to get something.” Only at the last second before heading to the apartment deck did he gesture to an empty box of cigarettes on the top of coffee table as if that were a viable reason for leaving.
His coat blows in the cool breeze of the winter night, the sun slowly recedes behind a skyscraper in the distance. Below, thousands of lit windows highlight the path to the city that beckons his presence below. The breeze swells up from below carrying the sounds of rush hour traffic and the wonderful smell of chicken dumplings from the Korean restaurant on the corner. Like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, Henry takes a worried look at his timepiece then descends down the fire escape to the city below.
NICOLETTE – “My beats or my fist in your face, both are sticky sweet.”
Neon orange translucent plasticity in the form of thin celluloid sunglasses stands between her closed eyes and the crowd of swelling bodies below. Strands of her straight licorice black bangs repeatedly get caught in the paranoia of the dangling dim yellow lights from above. If you could get close to her, you would smell reminisce of gin, Blue Curacao, sweet and sour and a little pineapple juice on the tips of her lips. The bartender called it a Blue Moon; she called it a f*cking vacation. To say that it was warm in this bar would be a gross injustice to the truth; she didn’t give a f*ck how hot it was. Dressed in a long white v-neck, grey tapered pants all wrapped in a long thin black coat accented by a yellow scarf. Let's just say she wasn’t there to drink or to hook up with your friend.
Her name, Nicolette, Nic to most, at this moment she was neither. Instead she swayed in a trance-like state in front of sticker-riddled laptop sandwiched by two matching vintage turntables. She is guarded by a row of beautifully kept multi-colored records, 10 inch, 12 inch, and 8 inch all arranged in chronological order in which she came into possession of them. She truly wouldn’t have it any other way. Her long beautiful fingers raced like greyhounds along the deep black groves of a vinyl record. Her eyes open to reveal the sea of people below, their true organic actions, emotions, imminent futures and fates, are in the command of her sticky beats.
Deep within her stomach was that unsettling feeling that something was out of place. Her eyes dart across her setup checking that all sound levels are in that sweet spot. Checked, double-checked everything was right. Calmness spread over her; swiftly she switched up the beat, she put on that aggressive front so no one would be the wiser. Then he caught her eye; he was standing at the door. For how long had he been there? She quickly fell into that introverted state which she dreaded. It was dark, grey, cold and unforgiving; this was like death to a girl that dreamed only in vivid colors. Looking oh so lost and alone as if she was suddenly on an island surrounded by people instead of water. Strange unfamiliar faces covered the room except for his. Her shivery could not be quelled, not here, not in this room, not in this city and certainly not with him only a glance away. She raised her arms and held her hands out above her head. She held them there until his attention was all hers. Slowly she lowered four of her fingers on each hand until he got the message that she wasn’t about to hold a sermon.
HENRY – “Hello, is there anybody out there?”
Turn of the century size 7 British oxfords lay like Irish wolfhounds at the ready next to the still feet of Henry, mid-twenties, distinctly dressed in thrift clothes bigger then his body yet smaller then his brilliance. An adventure-tarnished silver pocket watch rebelliously races along on the desk in front of him. His eyes closed, his mind elsewhere, A series of bright colors repeat over the peaceful demeanor painted across his face. His laptop, opened, displaying a video on repeat of a man playing guitar on a busy street corner, cut to surfers crashing against the glory of unsettled surf, cut to miles of white Christmas lighted traffic running across an endless highway, cut to garbage sailing in the breeze then hastily testing the resilience of a chain link fence, cut to Henry. His eyes rarely making acquaintances with the camera, he instead keeps is eyes off in the distance, searching.
An overexcited voice follows the sound, a door closing. Henry comes to, blinks blankly at the screen of his laptop and quickly shuts it, trapping the luminosity of his visual journal safely inside. He slips on his shoes, gets out of his chair and slips on a long tarnished wool coat, placing his cherished timepiece inside his left inner coat pocket. He lastly grabs a scarf off the top of his room door which had been left ajar the whole time.
She stands there in the shadow of the kitchen cupboard at the end of the hallway. Her breathing sounds like distant echoes of hope from a time long before the silence that filled the void between them now. To say that the resurfaced tile that dotted the hallway was the only thing that stood between them would be a lie. The coldness of the void worked its way to the back of his neck, and quickly he was filled with that nagging sense of loneliness that he couldn’t cure. He searched for a less pathetic reason for his forthcoming absence, yet couldn’t find anything less truthful then, “I have to step out to get something.” Only at the last second before heading to the apartment deck did he gesture to an empty box of cigarettes on the top of coffee table as if that were a viable reason for leaving.
His coat blows in the cool breeze of the winter night, the sun slowly recedes behind a skyscraper in the distance. Below, thousands of lit windows highlight the path to the city that beckons his presence below. The breeze swells up from below carrying the sounds of rush hour traffic and the wonderful smell of chicken dumplings from the Korean restaurant on the corner. Like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, Henry takes a worried look at his timepiece then descends down the fire escape to the city below.
NICOLETTE – “My beats or my fist in your face, both are sticky sweet.”
Neon orange translucent plasticity in the form of thin celluloid sunglasses stands between her closed eyes and the crowd of swelling bodies below. Strands of her straight licorice black bangs repeatedly get caught in the paranoia of the dangling dim yellow lights from above. If you could get close to her, you would smell reminisce of gin, Blue Curacao, sweet and sour and a little pineapple juice on the tips of her lips. The bartender called it a Blue Moon; she called it a f*cking vacation. To say that it was warm in this bar would be a gross injustice to the truth; she didn’t give a f*ck how hot it was. Dressed in a long white v-neck, grey tapered pants all wrapped in a long thin black coat accented by a yellow scarf. Let's just say she wasn’t there to drink or to hook up with your friend.
Her name, Nicolette, Nic to most, at this moment she was neither. Instead she swayed in a trance-like state in front of sticker-riddled laptop sandwiched by two matching vintage turntables. She is guarded by a row of beautifully kept multi-colored records, 10 inch, 12 inch, and 8 inch all arranged in chronological order in which she came into possession of them. She truly wouldn’t have it any other way. Her long beautiful fingers raced like greyhounds along the deep black groves of a vinyl record. Her eyes open to reveal the sea of people below, their true organic actions, emotions, imminent futures and fates, are in the command of her sticky beats.
Deep within her stomach was that unsettling feeling that something was out of place. Her eyes dart across her setup checking that all sound levels are in that sweet spot. Checked, double-checked everything was right. Calmness spread over her; swiftly she switched up the beat, she put on that aggressive front so no one would be the wiser. Then he caught her eye; he was standing at the door. For how long had he been there? She quickly fell into that introverted state which she dreaded. It was dark, grey, cold and unforgiving; this was like death to a girl that dreamed only in vivid colors. Looking oh so lost and alone as if she was suddenly on an island surrounded by people instead of water. Strange unfamiliar faces covered the room except for his. Her shivery could not be quelled, not here, not in this room, not in this city and certainly not with him only a glance away. She raised her arms and held her hands out above her head. She held them there until his attention was all hers. Slowly she lowered four of her fingers on each hand until he got the message that she wasn’t about to hold a sermon.
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Zak Forsman
Major Contributor
there may be a little overlap. those were some free-form bios written for the actors, Mary Elise and Dusty, to illustrate where the characters are in their lives as the film opens.
Zaky-Tabaccy,
I like the footage you got on the underground. We'll be watching (and poaching info from) your research on DSLRs for cinematography. The HVX and HPX might have a little competition.
You've got a great team out there. Keep it up!
e
I like the footage you got on the underground. We'll be watching (and poaching info from) your research on DSLRs for cinematography. The HVX and HPX might have a little competition.
You've got a great team out there. Keep it up!
e
Zak Forsman
Major Contributor
haha! i just noticed that someone out there seems to have an issue with me. thread rating is at two stars!?!? :2vrolijk_08:
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I bumped you up to "average". I'm a helper!
e
e
Mark Harris
Pain in the ass
D90 stuff looked good. Does it hold up large? What's funny is I don't think there is ever a time of day when the NYC subway is that deserted
Zak Forsman
Major Contributor
D90 stuff looked good. Does it hold up large? What's funny is I don't think there is ever a time of day when the NYC subway is that deserted
it's a little deceiving. we had to go to the end of the line where everyone got off. and could only ride it from there, back to the first stop before it filled up. we'll keep doing that in a loop for each take.
Ted Arabian
Member with Ladder
Dude, I am loving your podcasts! Just checked out the first two.
I hope that it is covered in your thread but I want to see what this rig is you are using for your self-cameo shooting. You and I are on the same page (or at least I have experimented with a device that does what you did in that gas station sequence. Very cool.)
I am really excited to see more of your work. I really enjoy your style.
And I totally recognize that restaurant from Reservoir Dogs!
I'll be watching more!
best,
Ted
I hope that it is covered in your thread but I want to see what this rig is you are using for your self-cameo shooting. You and I are on the same page (or at least I have experimented with a device that does what you did in that gas station sequence. Very cool.)
I am really excited to see more of your work. I really enjoy your style.
And I totally recognize that restaurant from Reservoir Dogs!
I'll be watching more!
best,
Ted
Zak Forsman
Major Contributor
the youtube hosted PODCAST SEVEN now features a link at the end to bonus location scouting footage shot on the Nikon D90.
Mike Manning
Well-known member
Isn't that where they filmed A Work of Art?
..hehe :happy:
..hehe :happy:
Mark Johnson
The Dude Abides
It has arrived ......!!!!!
It has arrived ......!!!!!
Followers of this thread will recall the exciting duel between SuperLuis and TheDude that resulted in Luis being humiliated beyond measure and having to purchase an RC helicopter as his defeat penance. See HERE.
Well, today said Luis delivered the Feral Beast itself:
Mr. Hyten and I shall be repairing to the liquor store to get beverages in anticipation of the Feral Beast's maiden flight. Video to follow!
It has arrived ......!!!!!
Followers of this thread will recall the exciting duel between SuperLuis and TheDude that resulted in Luis being humiliated beyond measure and having to purchase an RC helicopter as his defeat penance. See HERE.
Well, today said Luis delivered the Feral Beast itself:
Mr. Hyten and I shall be repairing to the liquor store to get beverages in anticipation of the Feral Beast's maiden flight. Video to follow!
ConspiracyPenguin
Nosey Penguin
Jeff Anderson
Custom Title!
YES YES YES!!! That's a nice looking helicopter! Ummm how did Luis take his kind offering you gave him in return?
Mark Johnson
The Dude Abides
The FERAL BEAST UNLEASHED!!!!!!
The FERAL BEAST UNLEASHED!!!!!!
HARK! Gather round to witness for yourselves!
THE FERAL BEAST UNLEASHED!
Not a Rick Roll!!!!!
You will cry! You will laugh! You will say "WTF?" repeatedly!
The FERAL BEAST UNLEASHED!!!!!!
HARK! Gather round to witness for yourselves!
THE FERAL BEAST UNLEASHED!
Not a Rick Roll!!!!!
You will cry! You will laugh! You will say "WTF?" repeatedly!
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Robbie Comeau
Como's back. back again
Nice video,, submit this for lossfest
Robbie
Robbie
Jeff Anderson
Custom Title!
R O F L M A O. Nice. Love the camera work at at the end there Tim. A few shots where all you can see is the shadow of the helicopter, while probably accidental, were quite ****ing awesome IMO. Good call on adding more dewar's in - that fixes everything!