Monday, November 29, 2010

the night is young, and so are we


This is a story about two boys in the woods at night.

Recently, while visiting back home, myself and a great group of friends attended a housewarming party in the Pond Mills area of London. After several hours of good times and a multitude of alcoholic beverages, it was time to make the trek home. Seeing as Pond Mills is an area that I would almost qualify as desolate (in terms of London's outline), we decided against taking a cab until we'd arrived at a major road on foot. I had a pretty good idea where we were about 20 minutes into the journey, and I knew that we were nowhere near cab territory. I'm talkin' country-road-no-streetlights-in-sight kind of nowhere. Two friends decided they would call a cab and wait. I had other plans.

I convinced my friend Bryan that we were going to make a fucking pilgrimage, like men, like our grandfathers fathers would. There we were, two boys, walking through the woods, approaching the morning light. I had convinced Bryan to make this journey based on the fact that it would be a funny memory and that it's what two Canadian guys should be doing in winter.

This is something I do on a very regular basis. You see, my theory is twofold.
1. There is absolutely no reason not to make memories, or at least attempt to. I would say more that 50 per cent of any of my actions provides me with some satisfaction, whether it's crossing the street on a diagonal or taking the longest way home. Adventure drives me, as does the quest to make a good story. The need to be entertained, or entertain, is at the core of any of my actions and decisions.
2. If you're going to get shit-faced you might as well use it to your advantage. I can't tell you how many friends I've used this line on, only because it makes absolute sense to me. What's the point? Getting drunk is not very easy to do. Yet once you finally achieve inebriation, you just throw that money away (in a sense) by hitting the sheets? (unless you're about to have sex, which is totally different). All of my closest friends have experienced this with me in one way or another. Three that come to mind are scaling buildings (do it safely please), swindling hospital security guards into allowing us to use a shortcut through the lobby, and hijacking a boat in Toronto harbor in order to use the bathroom. Those last two happened on the same night by the way. I could literally write a memoir on every intoxicated (mis)adventure I've had over the years. Call that what you want, but remember I'm the one with the tales.

So back to the woods.
I cannot put into words the feelings I get when on Canadian safari. During this night, we jumped creeks, hopped rusty fences, battled chest-high grasses, evaded headlights, and ascended underpasses - all in an effort just to get home. We laughed, struggled, and helped one another make the journey home, which was a staggering 7 kilometers. In fact, the photo seen at the top of the page behind the header is one of the fields we crossed.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that life is often too easy. It's easy to hop in a cab and be escorted home, and I'm not saying I don't take advantage of that sometimes. I suppose what I'm getting at is that sometimes you have to sacrifice your own personal comforts in an attempt to have some fun and make memories for yourself. It's also to important to remind ourselves that not only is life easy, it's fucking short. The night is young, and so are we. Let's hop some fences already.

*top photo. Bryan and I, Vancouver, 2007

Monday, November 22, 2010

King Shit


For a while now I've been tampering with the idea of scoring. Not scoring chicks. Scoring films. I'll blame it on the combination of my most recent university elective "Music and Film", as well as the Pianomation project. The course has given me a lot of insight as to the purpose of music in films, as well as the multitude of ways and styles the music can affect the viewer.
Its actually come to the point where I might begin to offer my services to film students seeking unique original scores.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music. I've had no formal training on any of the instruments I know how to play (except the Chinese dizi flute, which I can actually read music for as well). My familiarity with drums, bass, guitars, piano, percussion etc. are all bi-products of years tinkering (I'll call it tinkering for the sake of not saying "rigorous practice"). I will most often pick up an instrument and play until I'm satisfied with something I've done. Does this lack of training hinder me from my ambitions? No. Does the fact that I will probably never willingly seek lessons make me lose sleep? Not at all. You would be interested to hear how many of your beloved musicians have no idea how to read music, such as Billy Joel, Phil Collins and famed composer Danny Elfman. None of them have a clue, and that's fine by them.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music, but by fuck do I love making it. I'm going to risk sounding like an idiot when I say making music is one incredible experience. Seeing as the options are limitless, it's just you versus your instruments. The number of possibilities for harmonies, arrangements, instrumentations, timbres, placement, rhythm, etc. are sitting there waiting for you. It's seriously amusing, and I wish for you all to experience it one day.
I remember my first experience scoring a film. A friend made a silent spaghetti western in his apartment and asked me to provide an impromptu soundtrack. Using a dictaphone, an acoustic guitar, and a jar full of peppercorns, we crafted a soundtrack in about an hours time. The finished product was as satisfying to me as pulling a perfectly exposed print from a developer tray. There's something about seeing a completed piece that just gives you the willies.
I'm fairly new to this idea, and I'm sure my first few attempts would be the audible depiction of a child's first steps, but it scratches me where I itch.
Who knows for sure though. Like I've said before: I could probably compile a list of more than 30 artistic endeavors that have never transpired due to time and money.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Mirrors Please


I need a hand.

Well, I actually need some mirrors.

As seen in the rough digital sketch above, I've been toying with the idea of photographing landscapes with large mirrors reflecting the image into several parts of the landscape (the semi-transparent represent the mirrors). However, I don't have many mirrors this size.
If any of you know where I could find some, somebody who has some to spare, or any other information I'd love to hear it. In honesty, the larger the better. If at all possible, some sort of stand as well that it can lean on. Otherwise, I may have to write a blog post directed towards my welder friends. Mirrors without borders are most preferred.
I'm writing this here because I know so many of you are great seekers, foragers, collectors, hustlers, pack rats and researchers.
I'm not asking that you break your day over this, but to just keep your eyes open. Chances are usually good that you'll find one on the sidewalk somewhere. If you snag any leads, let me know through email (andrew.allan.schmidt@gmail.com) asap and I'll reward you with a hug and some beers. You guys are the best. Thanks for looking.

Andy.