WWWOOAAAAH sorry for lapse in posts. hans and i have been busting our asses on a new 10-min cut of DAMELO TODO... omgeee it's like soooo unconfirmed unofficial unreleased sneaky peaky but here check it out!!!!!! still a little ruff at the edges: http://www.damelotodofilm.com/SHORTFILM/
LAST NIGHT WAS TRYYYING.
wildness is rarely less than a warm fuzzy bubbly foggy pit of fire, but i got all tripped out because the performers accidentally sprayed fake blood all over Morales's handmade paper Morales Y Sus Geishas sign (and all the white curtains walls mirrors and audience yea oops). i mean no hard feelings but it was kind of epically terrible. just because that sign has been there like FOREVER in a gold frame, it's like the backdrop of every show. and he's gonna flip, and this sunday is his birthday. i definitely feel like the child who should spend the rest of the week in my bedroom with no supper. i mean precautions were taken with plastic tarps but i am kicking myself for not insisting on like an isolation chamber or something or umm maybe just saying NO to blood from now on?? i mean this is actually the... third, fourth, fifth? instance of permanent damage being done to the space on our clock and it's just not. ok. so in conclusion daniel and i tried to patch over all the red dots with white paint which i think will look ok in the night, but it's not at all a secret... so we're just gonna have to own it. ieeeyy club life. so complicated when it's part of your home...
it reminds me too that sometimes my temper is like WAY crazy, like anger that comes from somewhere else and is really about something bigger inside me. which is that i take these moments to be a clear sign that someone is disrespecting our space, whereas obviously it's more complicated than that, and what is the role of intention anyway? like if someone accidentally destroys something in the heat of personal expression does that make it less fucked up or does it show even more how much they don't give a shit ie respect... but the POINT is that it represents the simple fact that our presence has an impact on this space. we leave marks, literally. red paint, dirt, blood, footprints, and a lot more than that. koky, javier, and nicol kept trying to assure me not freak out, that it wasn't the end of the world. so why would it make me SO angry? because deep down i guess it touched my own inner gentriphobia.
let me say once and for all that simply i don't believe wildness is gentrifying the silver platter. i think that statement is problematic and will probably ring all lot peoples hoohas, but i don't believe it actually means anything substantial and is certainly not relevant to what is actually going on here. the relationship between wildness and the bar is a real life complicated exchange that deals primarily with cultural and class differences, and brought together by a shared understanding in the importance of community and creativity. that, in my LIVED experience, is an accurate representation of what is going on here -it ain't all warm n pretty, but it's also really beautiful and important...
so i guess last night was like my macbeth moment, fruitlessly washing all those spots. but i have to remember the fear is real, it lives in side me, i can have it, and continue doing what i am doing.
i had a great convosesh with Rodney McMillian today, who kinda offered me a way forward on this. the decision to make a feature film (ie engage with mainstream festival circuit) does not mean you have to "lower" the conversation about what you're doing -ie to stuff like gentrification and one dimensional sexuality -but it actually means you have to rise above, to find a language that is more and more true to your beliefs.... sooooo to get motivational on YA- that's what i thought about last night. CLUB LOOKS TO FOLLOW...
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