What’s your background?
Being born in Europe in the late 1920’s and transported here in the 1960’s has had its advantages. There has been a lot to see and my brain seems to have a vault that stores moving images. My formative years were spent in London factories and on a farm. I lived through scenes rich in detail and filled with characters that were left over from Dickens stories. The London Blitz also created its own daily stories and visuals. Moving parts of slow moving machines fascinated me; Cogs on harvesting equipment, inking rollers on printing presses – all had a rhythm that later was to delight when I discovered Leger’s “Ballet Mechanique.” Working as an apprentice in a small printing factory was a grim experience, but I saw that there was a “story” played out every day. The pressmen and the women bookbinders had worked together for years – this was their factory family. Their lives were proscribed by long workdays and short nights. Humor was an essential part of their interaction; with a background of machine clatter, some murmured Cockney ditties, others sang funny songs and one man danced like Chaplin. I was an outsider, an observer. I don’t think that I went to the cinema more than a dozen times before I was 16 – it held little interest for me. Music brought joy, and some of my friends were violin and piano students. We formed a society to help “undiscovered artists” make a debut performance. I found myself in halls and homes well outside of my background – I was a spectator in an environment that was more interesting than the movies.
Though you work almost improvisationally (i.e., without a storyboard or plan of action), you must still do some sort of pre-shooting fact-finding.
I film alone as much as possible because I am looking for the unrehearsed, spontaneous moment. This is made easier because there are no large cameras or truckloads of equipment. Having a crew and equipment has obvious rewards. But working alone is a luxury that I find irresistible. I carry a small camera wherever I go and use it as a notebook. Editing with no storyboard, no plan of action is fun – just spread out the thousands of frames like a massive jigsaw and watch for those “telling” clips yelling for attention. Ride the story that starts to appear and be ready to cut it or run with it; it nags, gnaws, exhausts, exhilarates and excites.
Your Eye & Hand series attempts to capture “skills that may soon disappear in the high-tech production factories of the 21st century.” Are you making these films because you bemoan the loss of people who have these skills (e.g., wigmakers, cigar rollers) despite the relative lack of need for them anymore?
Preserving old skills may not be as important as trying to communicate the characteristics of the practitioners. There is a dignity expressed in the work, with pride and good humor that needs to be preserved on film. This is what I am working to show in my Eye & Hand series.
Why did you move from the publishing industry to “very independent” filmmaking? Was there an allure to working in a visual and sound-based medium that attracted you?
After book publishing for more than 30 years, it was time to get into my vault of images and memories and see if I could make sense of all the accumulated information. The technical challenges in making films have been somewhat overcome, but my focus is on content with a continuing interest in passions.
Tell me a bit about the Contemporary Artists series.
The idea for this series was motivated by a couple of thoughts. First, I would show a glimpse into the lives of these performing artists and give a sense of what it takes, both creatively and practically, to maintain a life in the arts. In doing this, I hope to also dispel some of the common misconceptions about what it actually means to be an artist, and perhaps open a door into a set of possibilities for younger viewers. The other main motivator is really down to something fundamental; I’m interested in people. I love interviewing and getting to know people discovering all something of their personalities and background, and learning what makes up their identities, as artists and as people. Sometimes I feel a bit self-serving in that I get so much out of the process, but ultimately I’d like to think something meaningful is communicated.
”Speaking for Myself” explores the life of a tabla virtuoso, organist, Noh performer, a Broadway actor, and more. How did you go about finding the artists that were featured and how did you begin telling their stories?
I originally set out to make a film about the “unseen NYC” and spent more than 2 years wandering the streets with a camera, seeking unexpected sights and events. I accumulated many hours of this unusual footage. Once I started editing, however, I began to realize that I’d end up with a more satisfying, personal and meaningful result if I used this material as a background/foundation to a film about how artists survive in Manhattan. I had been connected to artist friends for many years, and once I started interviewing, I was “passed on” to others that had real-world stories, were articulate, and had unique things to say. I also wanted to help dispel the common myths about the “romantic lives” of artists often portrayed by Hollywood and the popular media. Looking back on it, I regret not including a painter, architect and opera singer/producer. These are individuals I’d like to eventually feature in a separate film.
What struck you most about how the artists in the film viewed New York?
They were tough, uncompromising in quality standards and competitive.
You’re a seasoned filmmaker, who has been granted numerous accolades and critical acclaim, how does this film differ from your previous work?
Until the Elliott Sharp film, my focus had mainly been on people who work with their “Eye and Hand” (series name).
The starting point of ‘Speaking for Myself” was to move onto a larger canvas and also raise the production standards of my work.
Working alone up to ‘Speaking for Myself” was fun (an essential component for me), but I found that I could not continue as a “one man band”. Also, because of my background in educational publishing, I felt the need to help correct the misrepresentation and trivialization of artists and their work that is frequently presented in our schools.
You worked in the educational publishing industry for most of your life, what led you down the path of documentary filmmaking?
Drawing on years of working with creative people, I realized that I can’t dance, sing, write or paint, so this is my medium for self-expression.