Inspiration Boards

I'm all about collecting.  If someone leaves me a cool note, if I like a picture, or if someone sends me a postcard, it's just one of the many opportunities I take to cycle inspiration around the bulletin boards above my desk.   

I think it's important to surround ourselves with things that trigger memories, influence our thoughts, and remind us of our aspirations.  My boards are busy, but purposely so. I like that I can still look at them and see something in a way I might not have before. It's a simple concept, but I like inspiration that comes cheap.

Here are some of the items on my boards at the moment.  

My Week With Marilyn

The Oscar nominations came out on Tuesday and so, like I do each year, my goal of screening as many pictures as possible before the broadcast is officially underway.  My Week With Marilyn just opened at the Monarch Theatre last night and so it was the perfect opportunity for Andrea and I to head down and check it out.

First things first, Michelle Williams is spot on in her portrayal of Monroe.  You might expect something shamelessly camp, but what's delivered is vulnerable, emotional, and intelligently nostalgic. It's a well earned Best Actress nomination for Williams, and her performance alone is a strong enough reason to see the film.  Thankfully, the supporting cast is no let down either and I was thoroughly engrossed throughout.

What I've always found fun about the Oscars is the variety of films that you can discover if you're willing to take a few chances.  I had a good feeling about My Week With Marilyn to begin with, but there are several flicks I know nothing about this year.  When you've grown up addicted to movies, sometimes it's just fun to find more ways to feel connected to them. 

The Monarch Theatre remains a great venue for watching smaller, more dramatic films. It was packed last night because it was 5+5 Wednesday - $5 ticket and $5 pop and popcorn.  If you live in Medicine Hat, you really should visit the Monarch.  They still have some of the best theatre seats in town.  

Ernie the Spaceman (1997)

Like a lot of kids do, I created my first videos using my toys.  At 12 I took what little savings I had and put it towards a used video camera that was for sale in the newspaper.  It's what makes these videos special now, the fact that I actually planned to create these and had it in my head that I wanted to buy myself a camera because I knew I wanted to make movies.

Ernie the Spaceman was actually an Ernie key chain, a mascot from Expo '86, a World's Fair held in Vancouver, BC.  He seemed just unique enough to not be recognizable, and before I started creating my own characters a year or so later, I got a feel for my camera by creating random episodes about the adventures Ernie would go on.  Once he crash landed on a planet full of Mr. Potato Head's, another time he had to rescue an alien princess, and plenty of times he was simply lost in space.

I created scenes using everything from strings of Christmas lights, to old Star Wars toys, construction paper and poster board, and remote controls as spaceship consoles.  The production value couldn't have been more bottom of the barrel, but the fact that I found ways to work in music, that I printed off my credits and taped them to the walls, and that I took the time to create miniature sets at least proved how much fun I was having.  It was only '97 after all and it wasn't like I had a computer to edit on or a digital camera to make things easier.

I only really shared the ten or so episodes I created with my friends, and for the sake of preserving my nostalgia that's the way it's going to stay.  Ernie the Spaceman is special only because it kicked off what I already knew I wanted to pursue as a kid.  It was my amateur directorial and editing debut, and the work I put into those shorts really lit a fire in me that set everything else in motion.

Looking back at it now and thinking about the setups that I'd build in the basement makes me realize how formative those experiences really were.  Without knowing it at the time I was exploring framing, composition, basic editing, and generally priming myself for the digital revolution that was just starting to hit.  The fact that I'd share my creations and get to see everyone's reactions only boosted my confidence.

The results were a long way from perfect, and they were even more embarrassing to watch after I'd gone through puberty, but it's that imperfection that seems so meaningful to me now.  I had no notions about how I was making something, it was nothing more than creative exploration.  Fifteen years later though, through a film school education, having had my work screened at numerous international venues, having over a million video views online, and having edited for a handful of big name clients, it's a rush to be able to trace it all the way back to this.

Ernie's haphazard and clumsy adventures may have only been a blip on my timeline, but it sure felt epic in the moment.  At the very least, it was an exercise in persistence.

The original title card from the Ernie the Spaceman episodes.