Historical Archaeological Sites of Athens

Gate of Athena Archegetis, located in the Roman Forum of Athens. Beyond: the Acropolis of Athens.

The ancient city-state of Athens during its classical period was a bustling center of the arts and the birthplace of Western philosophy. Socrates kept himself busy corrupting the youth by inspiring them to think and discuss methodically; Plato’s dialogues expounded on his experiences with Socrates and his Academy shaped the minds of great thinkers, such as Aristotle, who organized and categorized topics ranging from logic, rhetoric and politics to the physical sciences, the arts and ethics. At the same time, great dramatists, such as, Aristophanes, Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles commanded the stage, while the written word of the poet Simonides and the historians, Herodotus, Xenophon and Thucydides have been invaluable in the documenting of Greek history and culture. Additionally, great sculptors, such as Pheidias, designed some of the great public works shown in this photo album.

The following photos of archeological sites were taken in Athens in late November 2009 and range from the Archaic period to Roman Greece (one structure, the Temple of Olympian Zeus, actually commenced during the Archaic period and was not completed until after Rome had conquered Greece!).

Gate of Athena Archegetis at sunset.

The Temple of the Olympian Zeus originally began construction during the reign of the tyrants, brothers Hippias and Hipparchos, circa 520 BCE. The tyranny was overthrown soon after and an Athenian democracy prevailed and the temple left unfinished until the 1st and 2nd centuries BCE, amidst the ruling of various Roman emperors. Due to the hubris nature of the monument, the Athenians left it as it was in order to focus on more practical structures and monuments. Aristotle wrote in his Politics that tyrannies sponsored such haughty structures in order to engage the general populace and leave them no time, energy or means to rebel. Hadrian completed the project nearly 650 years after its initial commencement.

Landscape featuring the ruins of the Temple of Olympian Zeus.

View of the remains of the open-air Theatre of Dionysus from the base of the Acropolis, surrounded by modern Athens. What is seen today is the redesigned Roman version by emperor Nero. However, the spirit of Euripides and Aeschylus are in the air!

View of the Odeon of Herodes Atticus from atop the Acropolis. Used as a concert venue, the structure was built in 161 CE.

Currently being restored, the Parthenon, built between 447 and 432 BCE, served as a treasury in honor of the protector of Athens and Greek goddess, Athena.

Check out all the photos from this album on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=182491&id=598289154&l=5aa2d05539

Filed under: Travel, Athens, Greece

Mt. Lycabettus

View from Mt. Lycabettus. In the background is Galatsi Hill. The strip of green to the left is Areos Park, with Neapoli in the foreground.

According to Apollodorus, an ancient Greek historian, the goddess Athena paid a visit to Hephaestus, the artisan god, and requested he forge some weapons for her. Mesmerized with desire, Hephaestus could not help himself, and attempted to rape a defiant Athena. In their struggles, he managed to ejaculate onto her thigh and Athena, in repulsion, quickly wiped it away, impregnating Gaia (“Mother Earth”). The unwanted boy and future king was given to Athena; she named him Erichthonius (“troubles from the earth”) and placed him in a basket and forbade all to ever open it.

Soon after, in order to augment the flat-topped Acropolis of Athens-and to help defend the city-Athena broke off a piece of Mount Pentéli and carried it roughly seventeen kilometers southwest before dropping what would be Mount Lycabettus, in a fit of rage, upon learning the basket carrying the illegitimate son of Gaia had been opened, despite her wishes.

Perhaps named after the wolves of ancient Athens who sought refuge amongst the barren landscape, towering 277 meters above sea level, the hill, now forested, offers spectacular views of modern Athens, the Port of Piraeus along the Saronic Gulf, and the northeastern Peloponnesos.

Although I didn’t make the hike until my second full day in Athens, Mount Lycabettus is probably the best introduction to Athens I can think of. Though difficult to see in my pictures, many of the ancient architectural and modern day landmarks I saw during my stay, I could map out simply by looking out from the hill. The following pictures from my 2009 trip to Athens demonstrate these views-many of them amongst a sunlit backdrop.

Check out lots more pics of the views from Mt. Lycabettus on Facebook!

Filed under: Travel, Athens, Greece, Mount Lycabettus

On Assignment from Greece

Publisher’s Note: SCENE Film Columnist Adam Donaghey filed this column while on assignment in Greece at the Thessaloniki International Film Festival using his iPhone. Typing 1200 words on a phone with an Ouzo-fueled buzz further displays Donaghey’s commitment to promoting independent film in the Bay Area.

The Thessaloniki International Film Festival celebrated its fiftieth anniversary this year and ST. NICK chose this festival in Greece to make its world premiere. I arrived via train and conversed with a Greek most of the way. He showed me where my five star hotel was and the staff graciously allowed me to check in at 8AM. I slept a great deal that day, but eventually met up with my coherts in crime, who arrived much later. TIFF is especially interesting because of the films they program. A great deal of the films I saw, I just won’t get to see in the States. Perhaps if I purchase a DVD or maybe, just maybe, some of them might be available on Netflix; but a great deal of them I’d never get to see again, and certainly not on the big screen.

Both of our screenings were packed full of festival goers and industry people; but mostly Greek cinema goers. It’s really a treat to see such an interest in festival films from the masses. As the film played and the Greek subtitles flurried onto the screen, I found myself in a quasi state of a European trance. The festival even flew out the real stars of the show: our child actors, Tucker and Savanna Sears. What a treat it must have been for them to see themselves onscreen amidst a packed house of non-English speaking people. It was all very surreal and an excellent opportunity for travel!

The real highlight of the festival for me, though, was discovering Werner Herzog. I’ve known of the man for quite sometime, as he’s something of a legend; but not in such depth. Herzog has directed over fifty films; a hodgepodge of features, shorts, narratives and documentaries. His work has been well-received and awarded at major festivals all over the world, and he was nominated for an Academy Award in 2008. Most recently, he’s premiered two films for 2009: MY SON, MY SON, WHAT HAVE YE DONE? and THE BAD LIEUTENANT: PORT OF CALL NEW ORLEANS. The latter, starring Nicolas Cage, is now playing in theaters. Both films merely scratch the surface of Herzog’s ouvre, but would be interesting introductions.

The festival’s retrospective screened every one of his films, twice. Herzog also garnered a Golden Alexander-the primo award of the festival-and gave a master class. I was bombarded with a true master of storytelling and documentaries of, as he puts it, “ecstatic truth!”

Herzog proclaims that “cinema knows no mercy.” He says one should not be a fly on the wall when filming a documentary, but a hornet stirring things up. He’s known for his stylized style; he even directs the participants in his film to make sure he gets what he wants. This way he can avoid the “brainless idiocy” of cinema verite. Instead of simply observing the facts, he finds a deeper way to experience truth.

Many of his narratives are inspired by, and very loosely based on, extraordinary events. Herzog’s vision is not clouded with outside sources. He claims to see no more than two or three films a year. What makes him a true gem is that his decisions can’t be influenced. He’s written all but a few of the films he’s directed and maintains complete control over all of them. A-list actors like Christian Bale, Tim Roth, Willem Dafoe and most recently, Nicolas Cage, work with Herzog simply to work with Herzog; they don’t do it for the money. A rogue filmmaker, at heart, Herzog announced loudly that in this digital age we live in he won’t accept any excuses from a wannabe filmmaker. Cameras are readily available and if you can’t afford one, “steal one,” he says.

According to Herzog, “The world reveals itself to those who travel on foot.” I’m composing this month’s article from a hostel in the heart of Tuscany-Florence, Italy. The church bells just finished ringing as the sun sets. It’s quite cold and rainy outside today, so it seemed like as good a time as any to write my column; that, and my deadline was two days ago. I’m enjoying the art and architecture of Italy during the low season with quieter scenic areas and cheaper lodging.

I began my trip in Athens and the view atop the Acropolis is a sight to be seen indeed! It’s truly phenomenal to experience structures thousands of year old, up close. The Temple of Olympian Zeus stands a whopping seventeen meters high and I actually sat in the Theatre of Dionysos! After five full days of exploring, I took a train to Thessaloniki and watched as many movies as I could.

I caught a flight to Rome and was yet again amazed by the ancient Roman ruins. I recommend viewing the Colloseum at night, so as to avoid a barrage of tour guides soliciting their services and Roman soldiers begging you to take their pictures.

Whether you like his films or not, Herzog is quite an inspiration. He’s traveled across the globe and seen more than most people. The vast majority of his films deal with obscure individuals with unlikely talents or extraordinary hopes and dreams. Oftentimes, it’s man against nature and it’s a toss up as to who will win-and of course, to what end. Typically his characters are driven insane by both their passions and their downfalls. Herzog’s films can be hopeful or despondent, enlightening or frightening. Most important though, is that his films are informative and entertaining at the same time. He takes great care in crafting images on screen so as to interest his audience.

ST. NICK has basically run its course for this year and we’ll be announcing a distribution deal by the beginning of the new year. When asked if Herzog would change anything about his films, he was quite clear that he wouldn’t. His films are his children and because of that he wouldn’t change a thing. I feel the same way about ST. NICK. Sure there are subtle details that would have been better this way or that; but really, the film inhibits the unique personalities of everyone involved. And, for better or for worse, I’m rather comfortable with that.

Several of my upcoming films are locked and loaded and ready to premiere next year on the festival circuit. As I parted with my producing partners, I felt the year coming to an early end. The day I checked out of my hotel, I boarded a flight to Rome and spent three full days walking the city before catching a train to Florence. Rome and Florence were all about seeing the sights and trolling the museums. Tomorrow I’ll head out to Cinque Terre, five villages along the Italian Riviera, and take in a bit of the Ligurian Sea, as I hike along the rigid coastlines and visit the historic neighboring villages. On my way back to Rome to catch my flight back to the states, I plan to stop at Pisa for a half day visit. This trip has been a welcome break from America and a great way to end the year.

Originally published in the 2009 December edition of The SCENE MAGAZINE

Filed under: Film Festivals, SCENE Magazine, Travel, Greece, Italy, ST. NICK, Thessaloniki International Film Festival

2009 Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival

Pretty much the consensus

Last year, The Sidewalk Moving Picture Festival was a source of several mishaps on my part; I was pranked into being escorted back to my hotel by a fake bouncer, cutting myself and bleeding profusely at the filmmakers’ farewell breakfast; and, in so doing, missing my flight back home. This year, I just missed my flight back home. Although not as many mishaps, this year’s Sidewalk proved to be just as memorable as last year.

I arrived in Birmingham and headed down to ground transportation just in time to catch up with two fellows I’ve become somewhat close to: Joe Swanberg and Aaron Hillis. Upon glancing over and seeing them retrieving their baggage, a devilish smile twisted my face. We’d last seen each other at the 2009 Maryland Film Festival and had a jolly good time.

Opening night reception atop Red Mountain

It was most certainly time to revamp that festival spirit. And what better place than high atop Red Mountain at a ritzy B-Ham attorney’s home? That ritzy attorney is David Shelby, a friend of the arts and a fan of independent film. A few days later he would tell me he’d never met a fellow attorney who’d been practicing alongside him in the ‘Ham for roughly thirty years. This same attorney co-owns a jet with Mr. Shelby.

First night and the tension is palpable. Photo by Michael Harring.

While I was schmoozing, I met filmmakers Michael Harring and Kirsten Marie Barber, who were premiering their film THE MOUNTAIN, THE RIVER AND THE ROAD. We ended up hanging out during the entire festival and became great friends. Sometimes you regret meeting and hanging out with new friends at a festival after finding that you can’t stand their film. For me, this was not one of those times. The film is captivating, beautifully shot, and filled with intimate moments that are heartfelt and sincere.

Bathroom at Bottle Tree

Immediately after the opening night reception, we headed over to the Brown Derby for karaoke and cheap drinks. The smoke-filled dive bar was crowded with regulars who looked at us strangely, as we entered. Although they knew in advance we were coming, they looked upon us as if we were aliens from another planet. One man offered a snide quip as I entered: “When will WE be in a movie” he asked with a snarky laugh. Most of them, however, completely ignored us, given there was some sort of sporting event being broadcast throughout the bar. Several of us left for the Bottle Tree, a hipster vegan establishment where we’d certainly fit in. Bottle Tree is a darkened concert venue inside, but has an amazing patio filled with festive lights and all kinds of cool stuff to look at. You can also play Foosball like me and Mike did (I kicked his ass). I especially like their bathroom because one of the stalls has a huge record cabinet occupying half of its space. The photo above captures the shared area of the bathroom. The photo below captures the wall of the bathroom at Al’s, a greasy, late night burger house that cooks to order. Needless to say, I had a rare bacon cheeseburger. And at $3.95, I was damn satisfied.

Bathroom at Al’s; Bacon Cheeseburger for $3.95, yo!!

The evening continued early into the morning at the abode of Aaron Hillis. James, Aaron and I discussed all sorts of things that evening. And I fell asleep. With a glass of wine in my hand. And spilled it all over Aaron’s sheets. Did I mention it was red wine? This is Aaron before I spilled the wine (you don’t want to see him after I spilled the wine):

Late night romp w/ Aaron Hillis

Filmmaker Luncheon at Bottega. Thank you Frank & Pardis Stitt for the delicious lunch! Photo Courtesy Sidewalk.

Chicken Le Fleuer at Bottega

The filmmaker’s luncheon came early and I needed a little hair of the dog. Several rounds of Bloody Mary’s and belly full of Chicken Le Fleuer at Bottega cured whatever ailed me quite quickly. Plus, I got to try on Mike’s bad ass sunglasses:

Adam rocks my shades. Photo by Michael Harring.

Next up was the filmmaker’s excursion. Last year it was first to look at a huge Vulcan cast iron statue, and then to the Sloss Furnaces to create our own cast iron creation; this year it was all about steel.

1969 Harley Davidson “Easy Rider” at Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Leeds, AL

Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum in Leeds, AL is home to 1,200+ motorcycles. It’s collection ranges from the very first bikes to military issued to quite modern. The museum also sits on a race track that you’d swear ran right through a golf course-it’s that kept up. Following are a few more images from my visit.

Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Leeds, AL

1925 Pierce Four “The Vibrationless Motorcycle” Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Leeds, AL

1943 Harley Davidson W.L.C. at Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Leeds, AL

1962 Harley Davidson Topper at Barber Vintage Motorsports Museum; Leeds, AL

Back in Birmingham, we found ourselves overlooking the city, atop the Kress Building. After pounding a few Abita Restoration Pale Ale’s, I ventured over to the grits bar. Man, they had every topping one could possibly put on grits. Here’s mine with a view of the Alabama Theatre, right before the opening night film:

Grits w/ cheese, mushrooms, sausage, shrimp and pesto, topped w/ sugar-coated pecans, atop the Kress building, with a view of the Alabama Theatre!

Opening night film: BEST WORST MOVIE, a documentary chronicling the lives of the people involved with the making of the worst movie ever made. Despite being so bad, TROLL 2 has built up quite a cult following, especially since technologies in film distribution have lately made it that much more available.

Sidewalk 2009 BEST WORST MOVIE poster. Artwork by Daisy Winfrey.

Given I was already aware, and frankly part of, the phenomenon I was especially interested in seeing this film. I’d missed it at South by Southwest but heard really great things about it. Essentially, the film follows George Hardy, arguably the second most interesting TROLL 2 survivor (the most interesting survivor being his wife in the film and recluse in real life, Margo Prey), his life as a dentist in a small town, and the tour of TROLL 2 screenings the whole team has being doing all over the world. What makes George Hardy so impressive is not what he does now, long after his piss poor performance in TROLL 2 (man, I really like typing “TROLL 2.”); but his amazing stage presence. I mean, the man really should pursue acting again. He’s just such an overly genuine guy with the whitest, toothiest smile-you just can’t help but love to watch him, no matter what he’s doing.

Most fascinating, however, was when the actors finally wrangled the writers/director of TROLL 2 to the United States and we get to see their reaction to this whole craze. Claudio Fragasso and his wife Rossella Drudi have been making bad movies for years. Claudio’s “best” known work is collaborations with the late Bruno Mattei: sleazy exploitation films that attempted to capitalize on the success of wholly unrelated popular films. When asked in BEST WORST MOVIE why his movie is called TROLL 2 when “there are no trolls in the movie,” Claudio seems really dumbfounded; as if he were truly wondering why anyone would care what the movie was called. The actuality is that Claudio or his producers changed the name from its working title “Goblins” (which actually made sense because a) the family’s destination is Nilbog, and, more obviously b) the baddies were described as such in the film) in an attempt to tie the film to the quasi-successful TROLL. Other such marketing schemes include AFTER DEATH (a.k.a. ZOMBI 4), which followed his work on ZOMBI 3, an “in-name-only” sequal to ZOMBI 2 (which itself, is an unofficial sequel to DAWN OF THE DEAD (a.k.a. ZOMBI)); LA CASA 5 (a.k.a. EVIL DEAD 5), which followed two unrelated films, LA CASA 4 and LA CASA 3, that all capitalize as being unofficially part of the EVIL DEAD series (although LA CASA 5 is more reminiscent of THE AMITYVILLE HORROR); and SHOCKING DARK (a.k.a. TERMINATOR 2), which largely resembles ALIENS and attempts to capitalize on THE TERMINATOR. There’s a whole slew of other ripoffs; and what’s most amazing is that both of these men made their entire careers out of it.

If you’re feeling dizzy after reading all of that, then you’re in a similar state of mind as I was during the opening night after-party. As we embarked high atop the roof of the Redmont Inn, the lights were shining, the disco was blaring and the drinks were flowing! I found myself quickly on the ground floor, however, where the drinks were free and most of the filmmakers were congregating. Several of us talked for a few hours outside the hotel and, as we were just about to either fall over or go grab another late night burger, decided to play it safe and go up to our respective rooms and crash. I’m certain I missed some antics, but I was also able to catch up on some much needed sleep.

The next morning, I woke up and showered and hopped into a shuttle, just in time to make Mike and Kirsten’s film, THE MOUNTAIN, THE RIVER AND THE ROAD. As I stated above, the film is spectacularly shot. The meticulous attention to detail mesmerized me throughout the screening. It’s a far cry from the standard “mumbly” movie we’ve all become accustomed to on the festival circuit. Although the non-scripted spirit still persists, there’s something deep-rooted and sincere about the film. All the while remaining charming and sweet. We’re greeted with bold photography in one scene; our two heroes, Justin Rice and Joe Swanberg, are road-tripping in the mountainous environment of Washington. We see the car come around a bend; a beautiful mountain range in the distance. And we see it cross a bridge, as the rushing river flows underneath. Speaking of our heroes, the performances in the film are impressively delivered. Especially Tipper Newton, who play’s Justin’s love interest. In another scene, Justin and Tipper are sledding down a hill. The terrain is dark and all we see are the very intense, intimate moments between the two of them. It’s moments like these where we’re sutured in with charm in lieu of bold photography.

After the screening, I rushed out to catch a mockumentary about a man in love with Condoleezza Rice. COURTING CONDI is extremely funny but the dark turn it takes slammed my emotions against the wall, leaving me woozy and distraught. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

Me and my dear friend, Thomas (he’s the guy that would later help me miss my flight home. Again.) rushed out of the screening in an attempt to find food matter. At this point it was after 3PM and I hadn’t eaten yet! The lunch service at the museum, where the film screened, had already shut down for the day; the diner just outside the museum was closed; so we decided to walk through a nearby park and see what we could find. Sneaky Pete’s Hot Dogs was just beyond the park. And it was closed. There’s another diner over there. Wait, it’s closed. How about fast food? Chik-fil-A was also closed. Is nothing open on the weekends in downtown Birmingham? Finally, we ended up meeting up with Mike and Kirsten and Kyle McKinnon, who loves all of our films and programs them at the festival; and we all decided to head down to Five Points, where all the cool kids go, to grab some BBQ before the next movie. And while I didn’t actually have BBQ, I was in for a tasty treat. I’ll let the photos below tell the tale.

Jim ‘N Nicks BBQ in Five Points; Birmingham, AL

Big Dave’s Bacon & Pimento Cheese Burger w/ a side of Mac & Cheese at Jim ‘N Nicks BBQ; paired w/ a Reverend Mudbone Golden Ale makes for a filling treat!

Next up was Zack Godshall’s GOD’S ARCHITECTS, a stunning doc about five men who’ve been building elaborate structures and castles, all massive in scale and meticulous in detail, for decades, in the name of God. Floyd Banks, Jr. uses bricks he’s found or made to construct a vast network of castle perimeter walls in Greenback, Tennessee. Down in Vicksburg, Mississippi, the Reverend H. D. Dennis has been adding on to his wife’s store, Margaret’s Grocery, for twenty-three years, on a promise to build her a castle if she’d marry him. He preaches the teachings of Jesus Christ to anyone who stops in-mostly in a school bus he’s converted into a chapel. Kenny Hill, of Chauvin, Louisiana doesn’t show up for the doc (Zack’s heard he just wants to be left alone), but we meet his neighbor and confidant, Julius Neil, who tours us around Hill’s statue and sculpture garden and lighthouse, known as “The Story of Salvation.” Speaking of, “Salvation Mountain” is home to Leonard Knight of Niland, California. Out in the middle of the desert, Knight has been painting the side of a mountain and constructing an environment of “God’s Love” since 1984, when his hot air balloon crash landed at the site. Finally, there’s Shelby Ravellette, a master stonemason and Freemason, who hails from the Ozark Mountains of Omaha, Arkansas. To honor his deceased daughter, Lacey Michele, Shelby has been building a castle, primarily out of stone, for nearly twenty years.

Check out pictures and video and find out more at Zack’s website: http://www.godsarchitects.com/

Immediately following, I got all spookified at a screening of Ti West’s THE HOUSE OF THE DEVIL. And yes, as Aaron Hillis rightly stated: it’s creepy as hell. The film takes place in the 80′s, and is basically a cross between horror-of-the-demonic and a slasher film. Ti doesn’t freak us out with cheap scares or unnecessary gore though; instead, he holds back and slowly consumes us with mystery and suspense. Its slow pace and long cuts are reminiscent of other horror films of the era; and yet somehow it’s also very new. Kudos for Ti for creating a truly suspenseful film that relies more on story and cinematic value than fast cuts and cheap thrills.

After the film, I found myself back in my hotel room just in time for a quick nap and a shower before changing into my track suit for the Saturday Night Bash: “Break to the Future” at Old Car Heaven. There was break dancing, an 80′s cover band, rapping, old cars on display (including a Delorean!), and tons of pizza and beer! Mike, Kirsten and I took the first shuttle back to the hotel; in-so-doing, we apparently missed out on all kinds of fun! Like last year, the Saturday night after party was at Rachel Morgan’s loft, directly across from the Sidewalk office. Think: arcade games, air hockey, framed screen shots from horror films, Star Wars sheets, and all sorts of cool 80′s knick knacks strewn all over the place. Allegedly the party was quite a time; and continued with a select group atop the roof of the Redmont Inn until sun up.

My own personal Plymptoon!

The next morning I heard all about it when I came down to the lobby and caught Hillis scarfing down salmon and eggs, or something. Apparently, he’d gone to bed around 8AM. It was now roughly 10:30AM. What a trooper. I meandered my way to a screening of Bill Plympton’s IDIOTS & ANGELS, grabbing a Polish sausage from a sidewalk (literally “sidewalk”; not the festival!) vendor along the way. The spoils of attending a Plymptoon is that… you get one! Shown above, I’m very happy to have my own personal “Guard Dog” (from his Oscar-nominated short). And, really, all I need to do is flip the post card over to describe his newest film. His words: “This asshole guy wakes up one morning with wings-and he doesn’t like it! Because the wings make him do good deeds. It’s man vs. wings! The film is rude, crude, dark, mysterious, surreal, David Lynchian, noir, funny and finished in 2008!”

Packed house at ST. NICK’s Sidewalk screening

The house was packed at our screening; but oddly enough I could hear crickets chirping back in Texas during the Q&A. Seriously, I think we answered like two questions. It’s really strange how vastly different each and every Q&A is. Luckily, we would soon feel the love at the awards ceremony. After my screening, I was anxious to get back to the hotel and finish my debut article for the Houston Bay area’s SCENE Magazine.

Carol Connors (she wrote the ROCKY theme song)

A few hours later I was at the award’s ceremony, and, after a southwest dinner catered by Rojo and a few drinks, witnessed an amazing performance by Carol Connors; as you can see from the photo above. Carol wrote the theme song to ROCKY; and she’s still got it! An outspoken and talented entertainer, Carol was a welcomed addition to the festival. Carol sang and danced and then there was a comedy show; and then on to the awards!

Accepting the the Mise-en-Scène Award for ST. NICK.

And ST. NICK wins the Mise-en-Scène Award, “for its use of cinematic language to tell a story through atmosphere, sound and bold imagery.”

See how nervous I really was, as I thank the jury for our award (James, on the other hand is succinct and clear!): http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=1255542751143 – Thanks much to Mike for shooting the video!

The official after party was at The Garage, one of B-Ham’s favorite local hang-outs and named one of the “Top Ten Bars Worth Flying For,” according to GQ Magazine! This is the location of the infamous money-dropping, “I’ll produce your mooooovie” incidents of last year. This year I brought with me far less cash. And I didn’t get bounced either! I even confronted the female bartender I’d nagged about being my personal assistant last year. She says I offered $30k, but John White, a friend and champion of the festival-who’s not on Facebook and I don’t have his email so maybe Natalie can say “what’s up” for me?-told me I’d offered $75k. Either way, it was dumb and this year we laughed about it. And when I told her I was happily involved in a relationship, she chuckled and bought me a celebratory drink!

Here’s a few photos from the closing night celebrations, thanks to Mike and Kirsten.

Last party of the fest at The Garage. Kirsten, Donaghey, Michael Langan. Photo courtesy Michael Harring.

Last party of the fest at The Garage. Kirsten & Mike, Donaghey, Michael Langan, Natalie Hummel. Photo courtesy Michael Harring.

Hillis, Donaghey, Swanberg – Photo courtesy Kirsten Marie Barber

Donaghey, Mike Harring, John White, Hillis & Swanberg – Photo courtesy Kirsten Marie Barber

The night continued early into the morning on-you guessed it-the Redmont Inn rooftop bar. At one point, Sidewalk’s Twitter status was: “is listening to Adam Donaghey’s stories. He and Aaron Hillis should have tale-offs.” Who updates Sidewalk’s Twitter, anyway? After everyone else had left, me and James, Joe and the crew from the film, 45365, continued conversing and then found ourselves belting out ballads at the top of our lungs until the sun came up. We may have “found” a bottle of Jack lying around and we “might” have climbed on the Redmont sign. But there’s no evidence of either of this. There is evidence, however, of a beautiful sunrise over the ‘Ham; and here it is:

Birmingham at sun up

The next morning, on absolutely no sleep, I gathered my belongings and caught a shuttle over to the annual filmmaker’s breakfast at the Original House of Pancakes. And man do they have good pancakes. And eggs. And bacon. And just about anything else you can put into your mouth. Here are a few pics:

Breakfast at OHOP-I didn’t cut myself this year!

My BFF’s at Sidewalk!

Donaghey and Merrie Lynn Ross (prod. CLASS OF 1984)

And then the long, drawn out adventure home. As I said at the beginning of this post, I missed my flight, as I did last year. Thomas, I don’t blame you. Okay, maybe I do. And I sorta blame you for last year as well. But I’ll take some of the discredit for that. This year, we were already forty-five minutes behind schedule, due to some sort of shuttle mishap. And then we got caught behind a train, while attempting to take a shortcut to bypass rush hour traffic, that’s never present in the ‘Ham. When I finally arrive at the airport, I rush to my gate, only to find there’s no plane waiting for me. Oddly enough, I’d met the customer service agent for Southwest at several Sidewalk parties. She was more than happy to put me on the final flight to Houston. I’d fly to Dallas and then to Houston with a forty-five minute layover. Simple. But wait; it gets better. My new flight’s delayed. Forty minutes. That would give me literally five minutes to get to the final flight from Dallas to Houston, upon arrival. Tension mounts as I get closer and closer to take off. Of course, I’m one of the last to board, so I pop into a seat between two less-than-excited men at the front of the plane. One of which I end up conversing with for the duration of the flight. He’s in stand-up comedy and wants to pursue acting-hey Tim! I make movies. Who would have thought? Anyway, the stewardess assured me she’d call Love Field so they knew I was coming in. Right before I get off the plane, she informs me she was unable to. I ran. I barely made it; but I made it. And then the long sigh of relief, as I fly the final fifty minutes to my destination. I’m met with open arms and I sleep like a baby.

Thanks so much for yet another great year at Sidewalk. I certainly hope to make it three years in a row in 2010! If you’re reading this on Facebook, tagged are all the people involved with the festival, my festival-going friends and those I met along the way.

My friend, Kenneth Price, filmed his entire Sidewalk experience. Here it is in 120 seconds: http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=100534903301642

View all my Sidewalk pictures here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=150654&id=598289154&l=9b09648728

View and purchase official Sidewalk photos here: http://sidewalkphotos.com/
Read all about the festival and submit for next year here: http://www.sidewalkfest.com/

Filed under: Film Festivals, Travel, Birmingham, Sidewalk, ST. NICK

2009 L.A. / Vegas Road Trip Part 2: Welcome to California

I’ve run out of gas one time in my life. Luckily, it was in my current hybrid vehicle. I was frantically searching for a part for a camera while shooting St. Nick that a) we really didn’t need because b) it doesn’t exist (but that’s a whole other story!). I was in such a hurry that I decided to take my chances. At just over thirty miles AFTER the gauge said “0 miles until empty” my gas engine cut off. I was on the freeway about a quarter of a mile from an exit. Because my vehicle’s a hybrid, the electric engine kicked on and I was sputtering–er, whirring?–on down the road at twenty miles an hour. I made it to the gas station and didn’t skip a beat. That all being said, I was pushing my luck once again, passing by several gas stations in Yuma before hitting the California state line. Once across the border, though, I knew I had to fill up. California welcomed me with $.60 more a gallon.

In-Ko-Pah Mountains; Imperial Cty, CA

I quickly forgave California for its high gas prices, however, when I found myself burning through Devil’s Canyon deep in the heart of the In-Ko-Pah Mountains, with The Gypsy Kings melodically blasting through my speakers. A scenic drive, indeed, I highly recommend detouring by way of Old Highway 80, which travels along the U.S./Mexico border through Jacumba, and then travels parallel with I-8 into Cleveland National Forest.

As It Should Be; Jacumba, CA

Windmills in San Diego Cty, CA

I meandered my way north, from San Diego to Santa Monica, via the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH). I-8 hits the Pacific Ocean just past Seaworld at Mission Bay. Northbound on Mission Bay takes you through Mission Beach; and further, into Hermosa Beach, where it becomes La Jolla Blvd, as you enter La Jolla. Then it slices through Torrey Pines State Reserve and into Del Mar; continuing through Carlsbad and Oceanside; and a long drive through Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. A long drive along Laguna Beach and into Crystal Cove and it was about lunchtime; so I stopped in Newport Beach for a quick bite. Just as I entered Huntington Beach, I got a call from my dear friend, Jacques, urging me to race to his house so we could go to the Dancing with Films Opening Night Party–a film festival his company, Filmmaker’s Alliance, was sponsoring. Perfect timing, because at this point, the PCH veers off the coastline, through Long Beach, and hits the 405. I took the entrance ramp and made killer time, racing towards the Santa Monica Airport–near where he lives.

And on that note, let me digress for a moment. The traffic in Los Angeles is nowhere near as bad as everyone says it is. I was in L.A. for an entire week and drove through rush hour several times, and it’s not any worse than anywhere else I’ve lived (in no particular order: Dallas, Houston, Chicago, Orlando, Fort Lauderdale, St. Louis, Indianapolis, Columbus, etc.). They’re all bad! Like any other downtown setting, L.A. is very dense and its density is widespread. The key is planning and GPS–which is apparently illegal to have on your windshield. I can’t tell you how many times I took a detour, exiting I-405 or I-10. I never sat in highway traffic for very long at all.

Jacques & Donaghey at the Dancing with Films opening night party

Anyway, I made it to Jacques’; and after a quick shower and a short drive, found myself in Beverly Hills at a cash bar film festival party. Yeah, that’s right: cash bar. WTF? So, I get my first tab in L.A. and nearly have a conniption fit. They really are proud of their alcoholic beverages out there! So, Jacques and I were mingling and whatnot and I decided to hit the food table–that’s something I enjoy, as you all know already. Typical southwestern flair: a variety of cheeses, tortilla chips, salsa and guacamole. As I was munching away, a filmmaker came up to me, pointed at my longneck and asked, “Is that a cozy?” I chuckled and responded, “You mean a Koozie?” The guy couldn’t believe that I’d actually have a beer koozie–a nifty invention I have with me at all times; ya know, to keep my beer cold and my hands warm and dry! Of course, when I told him where I was from, he immediately understood. “You Texans are so cool” he said. I agreed.

A little while later, during an exhaustive speech the founders of the festival were giving, my friend Mark, who lives in both Houston and L.A., made his entrance. Random. So we chatted and mingled and mingled and chatted and decided we should hang out later, given he was leaving the following day. Just because I know he’ll read this, his place in L.A. is mucho kick ass-o. And, oddly enough, a short walk away from a movie theater that my other dear friend, David Lowery, was heading to that very evening to catch a midnight screening of THE HANGOVER. And what better film to watch just before heading to Las Vegas?

Redneck Ice Chest

I swallowed my last beer, taken from my Redneck Ice Chest, and we walked over to the theater. Now, let me tell you a little something about the weather in Los Angeles. It may be summer during the day, but it’s frickin’ cold at night. I changed into some shorts and a t-shirt, before heading to Mark’s, and thought I was going to freeze to death walking to and from the theater. Warming up in the theater, waiting in line to purchase tickets, Mark recognized Gene Simmons’ daughter, with her boyfriend and introduced himself. He worked with her mom, or something. Inside the theater, I caught up with David and we enjoyed the movie. At the end of the movie I tweeted, “Adam Donaghey enjoyed THE HANGOVER, a heartwarming tale of four brosephs caught in a peculiar situation; only their love for each other can set them free!” I think that’s all I have to say about that.

AFTER LAST SEASON opening titles

Despite the late night, I was determined to meet up with David the following morning to drive ninety miles north of Los Angeles to catch the closest screening of the enigmatic AFTER LAST SEASON. One of the highlights of my trip, if you still don’t know anything about the film as of the posting date of this note; well, you’re totally lost. Start by viewing the trailer, here: http://www.afterlastseason .com. Originally, all I told you guys was this tweet: “Adam Donaghey is utterly unable to describe precisely how he feels via text, image, sound or any other communicative medium after seeing AFTER LAST SEASON.” And all I’ll add is that you get exactly what you expect after seeing the trailer. Is it brilliant or just plain absurd? Well, it’s a little bit of both. But those of you who give a damn already know all of this. This is what I get for posting a belated note! I mean, really, the whole film can be explained by this simple screen shot:

Screenshot: AFTER LAST SEASON

Exiting the theater, we embarked on the trip back to Los Angeles to drop off Ti, and filled Toby’s car (Toby was in Dallas!) with chatter about the movie we’d just seen. David decided to share an L.A. delight with me called Scoops. The picture says it all:

Enjoying ice cream at Scoops in L.A.

Back at David’s swanky L.A. pad, we enjoyed a glass of Two Buck Chuck (Why, oh why doesn’t Texas have Trader Joe’s????) and a spectacular view of L.A. There’s actually a house, just down the street, under halted construction because the residents complained their view would be impeded if the home was completed. Those L.A. people are serious about their view!

I left David’s, just in time to meet up with Jacques and hit the Cine Gear Expo at Paramount Studios, where we saw all the cutting edge technology and equipment presently in the film world. Afterwards, we met up with some of Jacques friends at Barbrix in Silverlake, where we had loads of wine and tapas. Closing the evening down, Jacques convinced one of those friends, George, to join us at The Drawing Room in Los Feliz for a drink. I was exhausted and totally out of it and definitely not the life of the party, as I usually am. We ended up playing darts with a couple of gals, Anne and Amanda, for what seemed like for-ev-er, before hitting the hay.

The Original Hawaiian Royale (open scrambled omellette over white rice, onions & bean sprouts w/ Portugese sausage & Char Sui) at Rutt’s Cafe

The next morning, I enjoyed the Hawaiian Royale at Rutt’s Cafe, thinking long and hard about the trip that lied ahead of me. So far it’d been drunken debauchery and a few movies in between. The guy next to me accidentally poured hot sauce all over his pancakes, thinking it was syrup. I contemplated this predicament and decided it should be a metaphor for exactly what I didn’t want out of this trip. It was time to take hold of California for all of its wonder. It was time to do things most Californians I know never have time to do. It was time to see the sights. I’d been welcomed with open arms and expensive beer tabs; cold weather at night; and new-found friends. I’d gotten a taste of the sights only yesterday, as I made the long drive up the PCH. My plan was to continue that drive, starting first at the beaches closest to me and working my way northeast, along Santa Monica Blvd, into the Hollywood Hills via Laurel Canyon and Muholland Drive; and eventually, into Griffith Park, a tour through Los Feliz and finally, onto Hollywood Blvd. Breakfast had rejuvenated both my body and my spirit. It was time to take grip of L.A. for all its splendor and beauty. What beautiful sights lied ahead!

Next Note: 2009 L.A. / Vegas Road Trip Part 3: Hollywood & Los Feliz

Previous Note: 2009 L.A. / Vegas Road Trip Part 1: West Texas, Thru Arizona and Into the Desert

Filed under: Travel, Los Angeles, ST. NICK

2009 L.A. / Vegas Road Trip Part 1: West Texas, Thru Arizona and Into the Desert

Plagued with Facebook chat messages, text messages, phone calls and emails–all nagging me to come out to CineVegas to support the screening of My Mom Smokes Weed–I decided to embark on the two and a half week trip into Los Angeles and Las Vegas. That was Friday, May 29th; and, a whimsical beast to the core, I found myself frantically packing Monday, June 1st. A tent and sleeping bag, enough clothes to last me two weeks, some sandwich fixin’s and a cooler full of beer got be started, as I sped off towards San Antonio. I briefly met with my uncle, who’s Head of the Division of Biomaterials, Department of Restorative Dentistry, Univ. of Texas, Health Science Center at San Antonio. Although we didn’t talk about polymers or resins, I did get a quick tour of the facility and caught up quite a bit. Just before dark, I drove off to a KOA campsite, set up my tent and met the neighbors: a group of ruffians from the midwest finding their way in life. After a few beers, we decided to head into town and see the River Walk. Carrying on like a pack of wild hyenas, I suddenly realized I probably didn’t want to hang with these guys. Serendipitously, another man, about ten years my senior, walked up. He lingered for a moment and then I introduced myself to him. Turns out Heath was a Galvestonite headed to Los Angeles as well.

After ribs, chicken, catfish and a pitcher of beer at Dick’s Last Resort, we decided it’d be a good idea to travel together. The evening continued at several late night hotspots (not many in San Antonio on a Monday night!) until we caught the last bus back to the campsite. Stumbling into my tent, I fell asleep promptly. I arose refreshed and ready to get back on the road. I called Heath and we were soon on our way, headed west on I-10 towards Van Horn, TX.

Windmills along the vast stretches of the Chihuahuan Desert -or-Don Quixote’s Hell.

Adam Donaghey captures the quixotic spirit as he burns westward; and finds it manifested as he gazes at a forest of windmills atop the scattered sky islands along the Chihuahuan Desert.

I plowed along the desert until I rolled into Van Horn, a dusty Texas town sixty-three miles due south of the Guadalupe Mountains. However, as desolate as the town is and as flat as the desert is, the mountains appear to be only a few miles away.

View of Guadalupe Mountains behind fence; Van Horn, TX

Fence in the middle of the desert; Van Horn, TX

Campsite at Dusk; Van Horn, TX

I arrived about an hour before Heath, so I went over and talked to the neighbors. I really wish I’d taken a picture of the father and son pair I met. Well, I did take a picture of the back of the son, Eddie… He’s got an unusually hardcore tattoo, so obscene I won’t post it here. Covered in what appeared to be jailhouse tats, the shirtless, thirty-one year old country boy to the core, hails from the swamps of Mississippi where he works in the oil fields. His father, Mike, “swung by” and picked him up to take him back to Vegas–another odd coincidence. Eddie laughed out loud and expressed his excitement about hitting all the whorehouses. I chuckled meekly, then mentioned the fact that I had a film at CineVegas and Mike immediately perked up. He knew the festival. I mentioned the name of the film–My Mom Smokes Weed–and I thought Eddie would have a conniption fit. Later that evening he would offer me some “swamp grass” and I would accept.

The spartan town of Van Horn has very little in the form of amenities. It does, however, have a drive-thru liquor store; so, I bought a bottle of Vodka for Heath and a twelve pack of Natty Light for me. For dinner, we had very little options: fast food, a diner near the campsite, or Chuy’s. We picked Chuy’s, mostly because I had aspirations that it’d be something like the lovely chain of restaurants in Houston, Dallas, Austin and San Antonio. It was nothing of the sort.

Chuy’s in Van Horn, TX

An attractive sign with an odd tagline sutured us in. Upon entering, I immediately began to understand the tagline. As creepy as it all was, there was something quaint about the whole thing. I’ll just let the back of the menu tell the tale. It reads:

By the glory of GOD, this all started back in 1987 on a Monday night. Mr. Madden wanted to see the Monday night game on TV. So he stopped here. He enjoyed the food and mentioned us in TIME Magazine. He has mentioned us in Sports Illustrated many times and several other publications. In 1993, he featured us on the All Madden Show and that is when called us the All Madden Hall of Fame. He has been here every year since then. He calls us ahead when he is coming by, so we can have his food ready. He likes the No. 21 Chicken Picado, John Madden’s favorite on the menu. We have had the pleasure of meeting his wife and sons. They are great people, very nice and friendly. Mr. Madden is truly a great friend and we enjoy talking to him. We could never repay him for what he has done for us. This is only a short story. We have had many great moments when he stays here.

Jesus watches over Chuy’s, as John Madden’s tour bus pulls up; Van Horn, TX

John Madden’s seat (in front of the big screen) is always reserved; Chuy’s in Van Horn, TX

Chuy’s goes modern with this new sign, modeled by my new Galvestonite friend, Heath; Van Horn, TX

Continuing westward on I-10, the next morning we made our way thru El Paso and Tucson. We broke due west onto I-8, as I wanted the full PCH experience as I headed into Los Angeles. Speeding ahead of Heath, I stopped in Las Cruces for lunch on the Rio Grande. Along the way, I began sighting billboards with the verbiage: “The Thing… What is it?”

Road Side America has a really great video documenting a journey to The Thing. Don’t worry, it doesn’t reveal what The Thing actually is. You have to pay a dollar for that, duh! And it’s certainly a dollar well spent!

Upon veering onto I-8 at the city of Casa Grande, I quickly found myself cutting through the Sonoran Desert National Monument; and what a lovely drive indeed! Continuing thru Gila Bend and into the dunes of Yuma, AZ. The KOA campsite in Yuma was something of a desert oasis, remotely located ten or fifteen miles from the city of Yuma. I set up camp and sat in the hot tub for awhile before heading into town for dinner.

Ron’s Place; Yuma, AZ

We stopped at Ron’s Place, a nearby dive, on the way to town to find out where we should go eat. The bartender suggested Chretin’s; unfortunately, it was closed, along with every other restaurant in town, it seemed. After driving around for a good thirty minutes, or so, we finally decided the best course of action was to eat at the In-N-Out Burger. After Tweeting that the In-N-Out Burger is “all hype” and having discussed it with loads of folks since then, I’ve learned that those folks from Texas (particularly, those who’ve tasted Whataburger), really don’t care for In-N-Out much at all. True, the buns were toasted and tasted fresh and not soggy; the meat and ingredients tasted fresher than, say, McDonald’s or Burger King; but all in all, it’s just another fast food joint and really didn’t impress me in the slightest.

The next morning, Heath and I parted ways. As I exited Yuma, I looked to the right and saw the vastness of the Algodones Dunes (site of Tatooine in Star Wars!). Located just west of the Chocolate Mountains, the Dunes are a welcome sight for the wanderer headed west. I had come this far… I knew that much. But what adventures lied ahead? Would I actually see the sights of Los Angeles? Or, would it just be another trip full of drunken debauchery? I was soon to find out.

Next Note: 2009 L.A. / Vegas Road Trip Part 2: Welcome to California

Previous Note: L.A./ Vegas/ Marfa – Tentative Schedule of this trip w/ humorous comments.

Filed under: Travel, In-N-Out, San Antonio, Van Horn, Yuma

St. Nick at IFP -or- Where the Hell Have I Been?

I’ll answer the question first. My current position is Concord, North Carolina, where I’ve been diligently working so I can invest more cash money into films! Concord, which is about twenty-five miles north of downtown Charlotte, is home to all things Nascar–something I have absolutely no interest in. That’s not to say I don’t have interest in speed or racing. I had a ball at the Nascar Speedway, driving aimlessly in go carts at about twenty-five miles per hour, racing my co-workers and friends. Speaking of, with regards to interest in the sport of race car driving, I can’t say the same for them. Already, my co-workers have gone to several races (I declined) and one of them even has a Boston Terrier–a girl–named, “Dale E.” Either way, I feel a bit out of place here.

Adding fuel to the fire, there’s absolutely no vegan restaurants here, and finding decent vegan-friendly fare is next to impossible. Of course, there’s always Mexican and there’s a few decent Asian restaurants within a few miles, but largely, I’m cooking at home. I did find a really cool place in Charlotte called Zada Jane’s. A relatively new establishment, the quaint bar/diner (having a full bar in a diner seems fairly popular around these parts) has visual appeal, with its vibrant colors and interesting dishes. But let me back up. I’ve only had time to spend one Sunday afternoon in the Queen’s City. But what I found wasn’t the royal glory I’d hope to find. There are some beautiful historic homes and expansive parks, but the Mint Museum of Art was nothing to brag about (although there is a really great Chuck Close portrait). I found the culture of the city either dying or non-existent. Apparently, the Bohemian flavor of the city is located in an area of town called NoDa. But when I checked it out, all I found was a small concert venue, a cute live music lounge, one or two restaurants and a bar, and a few art galleries. I’ve seen more life in Dallas’ Deep Ellum and Deep Ellum is dead, Fred. A bit irritated, I walked into Solstice Tavern, where I found anything but “artsy” folks. In terms of texture, the bar had a traditional college tavern feel, but the clientèle seemed more the sports bar type. After grilling the bartender about all the Charlotte happenings, I downed my PBR and moved on down the road. Using the bartender’s directions, I found another small area of town with a few eclectic shops, a vegan-friendly restaurant, Dish, that was closed and the historic Penguin Drive-In. This is when I moseyed on over to Zada Jane’s. I was immediately greeted by Roger, the cafe’s owner. Less than a year old, the establishment blends in nicely with the neighborhood. I’d almost given up hope when I asked to see a menu. My mouth was dry and my mind bitter as I read over all the items. My mood quickly changed, however, when, in a last attempt–hunger pains a sorin’–I confessed my distress with Roger. I can’t quite remember his exact words, but they were something to the nature of: “Sit the hell down. You’re eating here.” I complied as he called over a gal from the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later I found a succulent curry dish with soy chicken in front of me. The seasoning was spot on and the price was right at twelve bucks (considering he could have charged me anything, given it wasn’t on the menu). Thirty minutes later, I found myself outside with Roger playing real life shuffle board (this ain’t the mini push boards either!) and drinking cold beers, well into the evening.

So that’s where I’ve been… except for a brief, glorious stint in New York, the second week of June. When David informed me that St. Nick had been accepted into the prestigious IFP (“Independent Film Project”) Narrative Rough Cut Labs, I immediately bought myself an airline ticket, and eagerly anticipated my arrival. Lucky for me, I was graciously welcomed into the home of Marc and Colin Raybin (Marc produced Frownland), located a mere 1.3 miles away from Soho House, the hotel that hosted the IFP Labs. Contrasted with Charlotte, New York has all the vegan food you can eat. My favorite was the comfort food (hot wings, pizza, Philly cheese steak, buffalo chicken, etc.). But enough about food…

I can’t think of a more invaluable experience then the IFP Labs for aspiring filmmakers. Being the newbie that I am, I found the week packed with information and real-world knowledge about the independent film industry. The labs consisted of film-specific notes on editing and composition with industry professionals and in-depth discussions of legal concerns, during the filmmaking process. In addition, we discussed the positives and negatives with regards to traditional and alternative distribution models, during the post-production process. But most importantly, we learned what to look out for, and garnered valuable industry knowledge. It was also really cool to catch a sneak peek at what will most-likely be some of the films on the festival circuit next year, and to meet the filmmakers who made them. I really can’t wait to review the plethora of notes I took when me, David and James sit down and discuss the future of St. Nick.

Filed under: Film Production, Travel, IFP, ST. NICK, Veganism

A Temporary Farewell to Panther City

Temporarily, dear reader; temporarily. I’ve purposely kept my mouth shut about my inevitable departure, save those few closest to me. I’ll be bidding a summer farewell on Monday, as I head out to Atlanta. Don’t worry! I shall return! But now, dear reader, let us celebrate the great city of Fort Worth!

It was a dark and stormy night… No! Really, it was. In fact, I was stuck under an overpass, avoiding an intense hail storm, as I was entering I-35W off of HWY 121, heading into Fort Worth. The storm passed over in less than five minutes and I was back on the road, heading for The Scat Lounge to see Johnny Reno play and hang out with my friend Pete before we both head out (Pete’s going to be working with me in Atlanta). The last time I heard Johnny play was at The Lone Star International Film festival, with The Rumblers (including Robert Rodriguez, T. Bone Burnett, Paul Boll, and Harry Dean Stanton), where they played the soundtrack from Road Racers. The set he played on this particular evening was perfectly timed. The band was really into the vibe and the storm gave the room a more intimate feel. In addition to the coolness of Reno and The Lounge Kings, we had the pleasure of hanging out with two other of Fort Worth’s own: James Hinkle and Paul Boll–whom I can call a friend, since meeting him after I saw him play with Angie Cassada. Both of them, veteran guitar players, also played a few numbers with the band, which made for a really amazing evening.

What really got me excited–even more than the music–was the conversation. Fort Worth’s got a heritage to it which is all too hidden from the common ear. But sit down at a local jazz club, sip a glass of Whiskey and listen carefully; you just might catch a glimpse. I’m purposefully being cryptic and I might explain later. But at this exact moment, I’ll leave it at that and share with you, dear reader, two pinnacle aspects of Fort Worth’s rich history:

Originally a military post–”Fort Worth”–now, the site of the city’s courthouse.

In 1873, Dallas attorney, Robert E. Cowart wrote that he’d “been to a meeting in Fort Worth the other day and things were so quiet he had seen a panther asleep on Main Street, undisturbed by the rush of men or the hum of trade.” Since then, the sleeping panther has been a staple of Fort Worth–also known as “Panther City.”

Filed under: Travel, Fort Worth

Salt Lake City: Moments

Other than talking to crazy anti-Mormons, me, David (Lowery) and Bill (Sebastian) enjoyed the Salt Lake City flavor. I actually thought these photos were lost, but forgot that I’d uploaded them to my external hard drive when my computer was getting a tune-up! Enjoy!

Bill Sebastian in front of the infamous Red Light Books in Salt Lake City.

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Good ole’ Immigrant Italian Dining. Definitely not “Made in the U.S.A.” here! What I love about this picture is all the signs. Other than the “Immigrant Italian Dining” sign, you’ve also got “AIR CONDITIONED,” “Lunch Served Daily” and “COLOR TV.” Other signs of note (that you can’t see unless you’re looking at the original size of the photo) are “Elegant Dining” and “COCKTAILS.”

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Some pictures really don’t need a caption. Like pictures where I’m mounting a smiling pig statue and slapping it on the rear.

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Another picture that doesn’t need a caption: Bill giving the thumbs up to a pile of dog poo.

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SLC Pepper.

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The Gateway.

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The Olympic Legacy Plaza.

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RBAN OUTFITT RS.

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David Lowery. Under the PINK.

Filed under: Travel, Slamdance, Sundance

There Will Be… Marfa, TX

Photo courtesy marfaretreat.com
Unfortunately, I didn’t take the above photograph. But I hope to, or at least one similar, when I visit Marfa, TX in April of next year. “Prada Marfa,” a permanent installation located on a lonesome strip of US Highway 90, built by Berlin artists Michael Elmgreen and Ingar Dragset, is only one sight I’m anxious to see on my West Texas excursion. I’m not so happy that the Marfa Film Festival is taking place merely a week after my visit. And my plans can’t be changed. However, I’m hopeful my trip will be just as worthwhile. Inspired by a similar trip I took with a friend of mine back in 2003, me and a different friend, will be traveling down to Austin and into San Antonio, and then head west through Del Rio and into Big Bend National Park. We’ll stay four days, or so, in that particular area. Enough time to check out the park for all it’s glory, party down at the McDonald Observatory, and visit Alpine and Marfa.

I’m bringing this up because this Saturday, December 29th, marks the much anticipated sneak preview of Paul Thomas Anderson’s new epic film, There Will Be Blood.

There Will Be Blood was shot south of Marfa on a 500 acre set because of its vast landscapes and dusty plains. Although the film is set in California, Anderson decided to film in West Texas “where you didn’t feel like a freeway or a Burger King was around the corner,” according to producer JoAnne Sellar. And that is what’s so great about West Texas. There’s really nothing like it anywhere else. It’s natural, gritty landscapes are raw and untouched. And even though these Texas plains are barren and desolate, somehow they exude an organic texture that visually stimulates and attracts.

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Photo courtesy Richard Foreman/Paramount Pictures
Paul Thomas Anderson is not the only filmmaker interested in the gamut of Texas country. The Coen Brothers’ ultra-violent, panoramic effort, No Country For Old Men, was also shot in West Texas, and Marfa played a central role.

Photo courtesy dlisted.com
Marfa has quite an impact on its visitors. Above is Javier Bardem, who plays a ghostly character of pure evil (and sports a Prince Valient haircut) in No Country, modeling a t-shirt from the Thunderbird Hotel, in Marfa.

Whitney Joiner of the New York Times writes:

“While the landscape was the main draw for both productions, the town of Marfa was a factor too. An eccentric, fiercely independent place that’s become a haven for artists and art tourists, Marfa has seen an upsurge in galleries, boutique hotels and print coverage in the last 10 years. The Coens became enamored with Marfa, ‘as a lot of people are,’ [producer Robert] Graf said. ‘There are a lot of really interesting and fun people in Marfa.’”

If that doesn’t whet your appetite, I don’t know what will. The whole West Texas spirit played an integral role in my decision to not only produce, but help finance, St. Nick. Much like Anderson and the Coen Brothers, my friend David Lowery, has found inspiration in that Texas country composition.

I was captivated during the course of No Country For Old Man, I can’t wait to see it through the work of Paul Thomas Anderson, and most-of-all, I can’t wait to gaze upon it once again for myself when I visit Marfa, TX.

Filed under: Travel, Marfa TX