We just got back from The Sunset 5 in Hollywood. Way back when, another lifetime ago when we were younger and cuter, more energetic and interested, we went to film school. There, oh the things we did! We made movies and developed film in the bathtub. We made movies and edited them with xacto knives and scotch tape. We walked the streets of Los Angeles with a camera on our shoulder and drooping jeans hanging off anorexic hips. We were art students, so fucking interesting and pissed off. We were warriors of the cinema, art house pirates. Devotees of Real Life and Drama. Then we graduated and were cut to the knees.
My alma mater has the highest "per capita" suicide rate of any college in the country. Legally, the school was forced to initiate a course in artistic self-esteem. We took it second term and our heads nearly rolled off our shoulders, it was such a snoozefest. But one film kid in the class before mine killed himself in third term. About two years ago, a student in our class killed himself too. Kevin went to his memorial service and said it was one of the most awakening moments of his life. How somebody killed himself because his art was not welcome in the world. How he couldn't make a living doing what he loved. And probably a whole host of other things...
Most of the kids we graduated with don't work in film. They don't work in any artistic capacity. A precious few do, but it's a struggle.
One of our working artistic friends sent us a link to an article about a grad student we worked with. For a split second, I thought it was going to be bad news - because bad news follows these alums. But the article was about our friend, Greg Whiteley, who directed the new documentary New York Doll.
Kevin and I just returned from a screening in Hollywood. I can't express the huge wash of emotion I felt watching the film. It's a brilliant documentary. Period. What he captured, unreal. And in addition to that, I carry the thrill of knowing that a warrior we fought with has kept his creative heart alive. He's made something beautiful, artistic, strong, and poignant. It's an inspiration that in the face of so much struggle, doubt, frustration, rejection, compromise, and confusion, we can still stand tall. Well done.
