Been reading Sidney Lumet's memoir "Making Movies" and watching a pile of his films lately. Randomly picked it up in a bookstore a few weeks ago while killing time before a film at The Grove. The following morning I awoke to news that he'd passed away. Sorta strange, that. His memoir is marvelously insightful, fun to read, and deeply relatable. Particularly this excerpt:
"I don't know how to choose work that illuminates what my life is about. I don't know what my life is about and don't examine it. My life will define itself as I live it. The movies will define themselves as I make them. As long as the theme is something I care about at the moment, it's enough for me to start work. Maybe work itself is what my life is about." —Sidney Lumet
Since coming across it, I've gone back to that paragraph at least twenty times now. Never perhaps has another person so sussinctly articulated my own thoughts on how creative work fits within the larger context of life. Thanks Sidney.
Spectrum. Keeping it murky.
The mercurial Cheriel. Good job!
Agreed, let's do it.
(m)Anthony (m)Anzalone. Baby brother becomes a man.
Terry Burbank. Perhaps more so than anyone else I know, this dude's got his priorities straight.
Actually, the G8 is your CEO.
Today is Memorial Day. While it may have made more sense to blast a brog more in keeping with the spirit of the holiday, instead I'm posting photos of the Terri & Gary opening at THIS los angeles a few weeks back. Sure enough, the faux-Self Help exhibit made for a thoroughly nice time. Heavy bros, snarky art, piercing noise... Yet, within the context of remembering our war dead, it perhaps doesn't make for such a solid brog on this rather somber day.
As our country is at war in at least five countries (Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Yemen, and now Libya), and as Japan continues to grapple with the aftermath of the earthquake—tsunami—reactor meltdowns, the idea of Memorial Day feels somewhat more pronounced this year, somehow nearer than in years past. It is not all backyard BBQs, wine coolers, parades, cheeseballs riding wild hogs down the PCH, squirt guns, and sweet shopping discounts at all major department stores.
Our collective memories of war are not distant memories. These days it lays upon us like a too-hot blanket, smothering our economy and overheating our public discourse. But even the Roman Empire had to come to an end one day. Memories fade and history repeats. Human nature is to change our nature, true enough. But sadly never too much, nor too quickly enough.
All pseudo-deep thoughts aside, I'm trying to plow through the past two months as quickly as possible here on the Trufths Beasths Brog. One a day, at least. Not a lot of rhyme or reason to it other than to archive the photos, the folks, and the faintest flicker of what it was, (whatever it was that was). Once I'm done collapsing all space and time, (actually March-April-May) into this poorly rendered series I'll try to get back to life in progress... as it semi-actually happens.
For example, this was yesterday:
Hi Isac, nice frontside rock.
And this, two nights ago:
Schram. Keeping it Canadian.
Be well, Happy Memorial Day!