SCENE: Bedroom. Night. Streetlamp right

SCENE: Bedroom. Night. Streetlamp right outside the window prevents total darkness. Awareness of my feet piercing the plane at the end of the bed. No comforter? There’s a sheet, and it’s tucked in. Something alights on my toes. Brushes against them. A butterfly? No, of course not. Damn you, Vladimir Nabokov… No, an Other’s toes. We’re sleeping close enough to brush toes. The mattress doesn’t have a giant seam running right down the middle. Time? Four o’clock in the morning. I’m wide awake. The role of the Bad Dream in this scene will be played by a thirteen-hour trip from normally-six-hours-away France. Well, at least there’s a DSL connection here. Vacation’s over.

Greetings from France. I promised

Greetings from France. I promised at the start of this log that I would generally avoid travelogues/journals and stick to documenting the process of making a documentary film, but since I ended up not bringing any tapes with me on our vacation in France, the project is on vacation as well. That said, it’s not out of mind. There are a few things that we’ve seen here that stick in my mind and will probably find their way into the project/story in some way:

  • Gleaners (see the link below on 8/5): My wife’s family’s house is in Provence, in a small village of farmers north of Aix-en-Provence. Fields everywhere of grapes, melons, tomatoes, and potatoes, which all remind me of Agnes Varda’s film.
  • Farmers: Of course, the rhythms and activities of the farmers around us here are very similar to those in Mapleton, the location we shot in earlier. Just today, in fact, we passed a truck loaded with baled straw. The fact that many of the farmers we see around are quite old also parallels the US, where it’s rare for young people to stay with the farming tradition of their families. One exception to that is the vintners, most of which continue as family businesses.
  • Nabokov’s Ada: Nothing like dense, intense reading on an otherwise unplanned, isolated vacation. I’d been told this was the most difficult of Nabokov’s books, and it is certainly complex. The narrative structure and fragmented timeline–written as commenting on looking back, memories out of chronological order–is kind of enticing and annoying at the same time. Nabokov gets the benefit of the doubt (I’m only 1/4 through); would people indulge such a complex structure for the film? Could I pull it off? Think about the film, Memento, which isn’t Nabokov, and forefronts the structure. battery’s running low. gotta go. a bientot.
  • I killed most of the

    I killed most of the afternoon looking for our tickets to a sold-out concert tonight at Madison Square Garden, turning our apartment inside out (and feeling compelled to return it to more-organized-than-before condition) in the process. Why? because American Express doesn’t provide purchase protection for tickets purchased on ebay [note: perishable link].

    The desire to post this otherwise evaporating anecdote doesn’t bode well for my ability to keep this weblog on topic, though (see 28.07.2001 entry)…

    Whether you are Greg, looking

    Whether you are Greg, looking for some other Greg or looking for what this Greg is doing, welcome. I hope this site will be useful and interesting.

    I am about to go to P.S. 1 to do a little representing for a group I’m affiliated with, hang out with some friends, and listen to some music.

    Rather than a window into my soul or my daily existence, I was initially spurred to create this weblog as a tool for a personal documentary film project. I expect to use it to lay out and manage the elements and themes of the film; to log the progress of it during preproduction, location, and editing; and to enable interested parties (including some of the project’s participants) to follow along. For now, others beyond this small group can follow along, too.