This is not at all a good time to start, but I’ve found that I’ll never do things if I wait for a good time to do them.
Nina Marie Rambo is not only one of the most talented people I know in the BFA program at my university, but she is also one of the most caring. And I can’t tell you how significant it is when there is heart behind beauty.
Art can become so commercialized and disembodied sometimes. And while such an objective and capitalistic approach to aesthetics is not only necessary but incredibly valuable at times, there is something overwhelmingly good and refreshing to work that is driven by love.
The following piece, Nina’s first foray into film-making, is just that sort of thing.
I am a proud owner of a 1990 Volvo 740 GL, and although my trusty steel box will probably never accumulate as many miles as the Swedish beauty featured in this video, it still offers me a lot of comfort to know that it comes from a very fine heritage.
Nice car, nice shots, nice editing.
If you mind language, please pardon the language. If you don’t mind language, please enjoy the language. Either way, note the way in which language is treated. To be truthful, the concept might not even be that phenomenal, but the execution—the dedication—verges on absurd. And, arguably, truly artistic.
The Thee Oaks based design firm where I intern awards a yearly grant to graphic design students creating a BFA or MFA thesis project. It just so happens that the name of the firm itself is Thesis, which makes speaking about the grant just a little bit tricky. Nonetheless, it’s a fantastic (and rare) opportunity for design students “with ideas bigger than [their] wallet.”
To announce this year’s grant, Thesis created the following piece, which I had the opportunity to work on under the art direction of Heather Tucker.
The following is what happens when a photojournalist turned Emmy Award-winning filmmaker teams up with a poet. Of anything I’ve seen yet, this is certainly my favorite lyrical piece. Thoroughly poetic, and very inspiring.
I’ve long held that you can pull anything off if you commit to it. While it is perhaps slightly unfair to say that the following film only works because the filmmaker decided to pull off poor camerawork, I think it is very fair to claim that with the right editing techniques and enough footage to work with, a postmodern aesthetic in film can be pushed far further than out of focus shots timed to music. When done correctly, you can end up with brilliant grading, sound design, and clever shot juxtapositions, making any flaws in image capture to seem like very intentional and planned parts of a commentary on memory.
I was pointed to the following piece by one of the incredibly talented designers at Thesis, a graphic design firm in Three Oaks, Michigan, where I’ve had the privilege of interning this fall. We have been in the process of developing a short promotional video, and while no longer relevant to the direction we’ve ended up taking, this piece was brought up for its remarkable sound design.
And it really is remarkable. This is on a whole other level than most profile shorts that you see out there, and while the man’s profession does lend itself very well to this kind of editing, the execution is on point. It is, very simply, a very well-cut piece. The pacing, audio, cinematography, and grading are crafted together so effectively to describe exactly the sort of person that Shinya Kimura is.
(It doesn’t hurt either that the captioning is so well considered. Futura and proper apostrophes. Beautiful.)
I mentioned a long time ago in one of my earliest posts that I was wrapping up two short video projects that would be uploaded by the end of September.
Here is one of them. The other one will probably never be finished.
Until, of course, Steve and I make it down that river.
I was serious about them being short though, am I right?
On that note, it is very important for me, for the sake of my credibility and in defense of my taste, to state that this is a terrible video.
Says you, “If that is indeed the case it would certainly be better for such rubbish not to be featured on your superbly curated blog, correct?”
“Nay!” says I. “It has tremendous personal value to the artist! It is about transience and the futility of attempting to capture the ethereal! It is a commentary on the insufficiency of memory! It is about pearls and swine and the dirty rotten politics of religious colonization!”
Says you, “But you said it is a terrible video. How could you deem a video terrible if you feel that way about it?”
“It’s a rough cut.”
It’s a rough cut. There’s possibly some potential in pulling off the futility of attempting to capture the ethereal a bit better. But the main reason it is terrible, to be honest, is that I had no idea what I was doing when I took the footage. I could get around to finishing the video (clip, more accurately), but color grading and slapping a few effects on it would do little to improve on the fact that most of these clips were poorly shot (and these were the salvageable ones). Because of that I’m claiming archival status on this material, even though none of it looks old enough, and asserting its value as a historical document of my earliest forays into film making.
How could anyone ever believe such nasty rumors about sweatshops, shady corporate structure, and internal espionage, when IKEA has such incredibly happy adverts like this?
I have no clue.
Fantastic work as always from Mother.