Spring of my junior year of college, I took an experimental film course. It was one of the best classes I took during my time in school. One day, we skyped with documentarian, Alan Berliner. He’s a great artist, and I love his work. These were some gems of quotes from that interview (useful when applied to both art and to life):
"Everything you do should be the hardest thing you’ve done."
"Each of us have our own way of doing things and we have a responsibility to discover our way."
"It’s okay to get lost. In finding your way, you’ll make your art."
"I have to wait a year after I make a film so I can forget how hard it was and I can feel motivated to work again."
"Every work of art is a balancing act between what is revealed and unrevealed. It’s a mitigated vulnerability."
"If the audience can feel that I’m protecting him, sentimentalizing or praising him, something is lost. The audience must realize the risk, the fragility, the existential pain — instead of in the bay, we are now in the ocean. There are sharks out there and you can drown."
"There’s only one Ultimate Meal, and it doesn’t come in flavors." (ha!)
"Waste your time. Waste your money. That’s the only way to learn." (not Alan’s, but his friend’s quote.)
"What don’t you know if you can do? What don’t you know if you have? Find out."
"I aim to keep the word ‘inventor’ in the air at all times."
—And my favorites:
"It’s inevitable. You become who and what you are."
"If it doesn’t come from a place where your heart and mind intersect, don’t do it."
"Art requires fascination, urging and need."
six rascals from austin who had never done improv together did a month-long run at upstairs gallery in november 2013
keanu is molly moore, danny catlow, devin race, brady james, max lipchitz and kayla lane freeman
I grew up learning to be a feminist. I wasn’t given Gloria Steinem board books or Riot Grrrl coloring pages; I was not indoctrinated. I learned about equality and respect for women from my mother who never once entertained the idea or endorsed an ideology that her daughters could not do anything that they set their minds to. She rejected the Catholic church because she knew that her daughters would not have an equal place at that table. She is a woman who does not shrink at social pressure in the face of her beliefs.
When I was 5, I wanted to be a major league baseball player. I loved going to ProPlayer stadium in Miami and watch the Florida Marlins. I don’t know that I even liked baseball as much as I liked dot races on the big screen, the booming announcer voice, and eating ice cream with rainbow sprinkles out of a miniature teal helmet. My parents signed me up to play t-ball; the only girl on a team full of boys. It didn’t occur to me that it was weird until they all ganged up on me and teased me.
I played with Legos and Hot Wheels as often as I played with Barbies and Cabbage Patch Kids. I didn’t understand that a car or a house of bricks was gendered until the clerk at McDonald’s said they were all out of “boy toys” when I asked for a racecar instead of a doll.
I held the hand of my best friend Chelsea in kindergarten, and declared that we were going to get married. Kyle Tyson called us gay, and all I knew was that meant we were happy. And we were! I think my teacher cringed, but my mom never batted an eyelash. She told me that if I wanted to get married to Chelsea, I could do that someday, but I’d better wait until adulthood to make any life-changing decisions.
I was not a tomboy, in the sense that I did not reject all things stereotypically “feminine”. I loved to wear sundresses with sneakers and run around outside and play kickball. I had long hair that I hated being brushed, but never wanted to cut.
I seldom remember being told to “sit like a lady”. Instead, my mom just learned to stick bike shorts underneath all my dresses. I was encouraged to be ambitious, to be loud, and to chase my dreams. My mom never celebrated the fact that I was a girl who could do math; I was not smart “for one of the girls”. I was smart, and that was celebrated in itself. My mom killed spiders, opened pickle jars, assembled furniture, and fixed cars. She also baked cookies, vacuumed, went grocery shopping, and braided hair.
I was raised to be a feminist, because I was not shown a discrepancy between gender. I was not told that there were things for boys to do and things for girls to do. I was not shown a woman who was weak or subservient, nor a man who did not treat his wife as an equal partner. Seldom did I feel like a “girl” growing up, for more often than not I just felt like a person. Gender equality made sense, instinctively, because being kind to all people made sense, and the distinction between boy and girl felt as measly as eye color or height.
My mother raised me a feminist because she saw potential like starfire in the eyes of her young daughters. She saw curiosity and intelligence and capacity for talent. And she would be damned if she let that go to waste because of some silly, self-imposed idea that success was reserved for the boys.