Kinetta scans!

The 16mm hand-processed b&w footage shot for "78rpm" has been scanned by Kinetta -- a lovely looking digital incarnation of the analog film footage -- at the recently opened Kinetta Archival facility in NYC.

Some aspects of the making of the project to contemplate in relation to the film's subject matter, since technology and obsolescence as one of the project's main themes:

The scenes between the interviews have been shot with newly manufactured ORWO film stock on a Bolex camera made in the 1960s, and yet these analog technologies haven't become dated, they still work to give you a "film" image.  But, on the digital side of filmmaking, what's up-to-date or out-of-date changes practically from one day to the next.  If I was making this film a few years ago I would have had the film footage put onto video (with a video tape as backup) using a state-of-the-art telecine transfer -- perhaps not even an HD transfer, since those were very expensive at the time.  But now, those telecine transfers seem to be the old-school method.  With "scanning" rather than "transferring," we've leapfrogged ahead of even High Definition video: the scans are larger than HD, and actually have to be reduced down to High Definition for editing.

I was able to sit down with the creator of the Kinetta Archival Scanner, Jeff Kreines, to see the difference in quality between a low-cost HD transfer and a Kinetta scan.  One of the striking things was the difference in the look of the film's silver halide grain itself.  Sometimes in a transfer from film to video the film grain is translated as a layer of digital "mush" spread across the image, like the lumpy surface of oatmeal. But with the Kinetta scans — at about five times the resolution of HD — the look of the grain is still there, resembling film much more than other transfers. Some nice examples can be seen here.  This is of particular relevance to a project that has been hand-processed, since hand-processing introduces all the beauty of analog imperfections, the sense of tactility, to an even higher degree than film developed at the lab -- in an ironic sounding sense, it's a matter of having the imperfections be seen at their best.

And yet, while it's easy to accept the notion that anything analog is old technology and anything digital is new, I'm editing now with Final Cut Pro 7, perhaps the most out-of-date aspect of the whole project (the 50-year-old Bolex included).  This is the discontinued version of Apple's editing software, supplanted by Final Cut Pro X, much to the consternation of the professional editing world. The term of art in obsolescent software (lacking in bug fixes, updates, and tech support) is to call it a "legacy system."  So while you can still get film for the 16mm Bolex, the days are numbered for this particular digital editing software (as soon as Apple introduces a new operating system that won't run FCP7, it's bye-bye software).

And so, to sum things up, we have a panoply of different technologies put to work, with modes of evolution and longer and shorter lifespans: The good, old Bolex (still relevant as a tool for gathering beautiful, filmic images a half-century later), newly manufactured 16mm film stock (a format first introduced in 1923), and Kinetta scans of a quality that are practically ahead of the curve (that is to say, higher quality than even HD), and obsolescent digital editing technology (Final Cut was acquired by Apple in 1999, version 7 of FCP introduced in 2009 and discontinued in 2011 -- a pretty short lifespan).  So I suppose the "newest" aspect of the project (besides the Kinetta scans) is the 16mm film, since it was just recently manufactured.

And so, as I cut together interviews of people discussing the relevance of the obsolescent 78 record in a world of rapidly changing technology, I can readily relate this issue to the world of filmmaking. . . alas.

"That's all."

"78rpm" update - shooting is done, now comes editing

An update on "78rpm". . .

Shooting is now complete. Has been quite an adventure making the project so far:

• Twenty-four HD interviews with collectors, historians, experts, and enthusiasts.

• Visits to London and Norwich UK, Los Angeles CA, Austin TX, Rochester and Albany NY, Burlington and St Johnsbury VT, Philadelphia PA, West Orange and Camden NJ, and elsewhere.

• And several thousand feet of images shot on 16mm film, now in the process of being digitized and formatted.

Now comes the task of taking all this material and weaving it into a film. Expect to have a cut in the early part of next year. A lot of work to get there, but looking forward to it. Will keep you informed on progress, as the film makes its way out of the editing room, and begins the phase of getting out into the world.

MANY THANKS to all of the project's supporters and participants!

Dancers and a Gramophone

A scene for the film, with dancers (the wonderful Momojiri Girls, and a friend) and a gramophone, shot at the charming Jalopy Theater, in Brooklyn.

A droll demonstration of the physical nature of the record -- the drowsy gramophone operator drifts off to sleep, the the spring winds down, the music slows, the dancers slow down too, until the music stops completely, and the dancers are frozen in place.  The gramophonist awakes, and then, with a change in record, some cine-magic occurs (thanks to an inadvertent selection of some hot jazz).

* * *

But I do wonder about how a younger generation, growing up in a digital world, relate to the references to the workings of archaic analog technology?  Just think of the sound heard over the telephone receiver of the clicks of dialing a rotary phone.  For one generation, a familiar memory of a commonplace occurrence, for another it's something only experienced as a sound effect in a period movie.  Even among the record collectors I've interviewed there are those who were young enough at the time remember the last days of the 78 -- just as 45s and LPs where being introduced.  And others, who came along later, growing up in the age of the LP record and the cassette tape.  To listen to the 78 record was not to re-encounter a form of technology from early childhood, but instead an act of discovering something unfamiliar, in the same way that the clicks of the rotary phone must be unfamiliar to a younger generation.  Of course, there will probably be some time in the future when films of people moving their fingers on tablet screens will seem like some strange, archaic practice, leaving one thinking, "how odd and old-fashioned."

"That's all."

Austin Texas and Amelia Foxtrot

More traveling, more shooting, in search of 78 culture.  This time arriving in Austin Texas to shoot some film with Amelia Foxtrot of the Austin Phonograph Company.  Collected some footage of her DJing at the East Side Showroom.  With the symphony in red -- red phonograph horns, red lipstick, red dress, red velvet curtains -- it felt a little bit of a shame to be shooting in black and white.

A very good interview with Amelia as well, touching on both 78s and vintage culture.

* * *

Austin is a charming place for a visitor to meander, to sample the many food trucks; although it gets pretty hot out in the sun, and so dashing from one bit of shade to the next seems to be the most efficient way to travel by foot.  Didn't see much of downtown, but stuck with the more eclectic neighborhoods to the east and south of town.

Screened some work at Experimental Response Cinema while I was there.  Nice turnout and nice reaction to the films.  Included the short piece "Victrola Cinema" with a portable phonograph supplying the soundtrack "live" for the event.

* * *

A visit to Los Angeles to interview Rani Singh, director of the Harry Smith Archives.  Harry Smith was a fascinating person; an experimental filmmaker and animator, a collector of many interesting and neglected things, including 78 records of American music of the late 20s and early 30s; hillbilly music, Cajun music, old-time country music, blues singers, folk music.  Harry curated selections from his collection into a set of LP records in the early 50s, the "Anthology of American Folk Music," released by Folkways Records, and introducing old, lost music to a new and appreciative audience.

Next came a visit to Excavated Shellac for a fascinating discussion on collecting music from different cultures around the world - Eastern Europe, North Africa, the Middle East.

Very little left to gather with the camera to be done with shooting.  But saving one of the more unusual things for last, so stay tuned. . .

"That's all."

The allure of hand-processed b&w film

Back when I was shooting at the Edison laboratory someone asked me about the 16mm Bolex camera I was using.  And in answering why I was shooting on film, I thought aloud to myself: "Just imagine a film where you interview all these people who are talking about analog sound and the beauty of the analog medium, and the whole thing was shot on digital video?  Perhaps a bit unintentionally ironic?"

And it was just this sort of thought guiding the decision to shoot the project on black and white ORWO 16mm film with HD interviews in between.  The confluence of analog image and analog sound.  The stock itself has the lush look of classic black and white film, with high silver content and a robustness of the image that results from this.  And as far as the HD interview sequences were concerned, rather than try to meld together digital and analog media, there seemed to be an aesthetic purpose to highlight contrast between the ultra-perfect, antiseptic beauty of HD with the more earthy, material beauty of analog film.

* * *

Of course, there's also a certain charm in being able to say, "I made a feature-length project and hand-developed the whole thing."  To that extent it's also something of a dare.  The Morse tanks hold only 100 feet of film, and cranking the reels through the chemistry takes time, but I realized using two tanks at the same time doubled the speed of processing.

Hand-developing isn't really a replacement for the film lab.  The results can be pretty grungy and inconsistent, with every roll coming out a little bit different the others, with all sorts of water stains, developing inconsistencies, and maybe a little random solarization on the ends of the roll too.  But the point of hand-processing is to embrace these hand-hewn qualities as the expression of the film as tactile media.  This acceptance of the imperfect as part of the experience is not too different than the sonic experience of the murmur of surface noise from an old 78 record.

* * *

DIY

Hand-processing film has a distinct look to it -- a "patina" might be the appropriate term -- but it also connotes an aesthetic philosophy of filmmaking, the  do-it-yourself school of production, as practiced by artists like Helen Hill, whose book "Recipes for Disaster" chronicles a myriad of techniques used by artists hand-crafting their films.  Sometimes it's a question of affordability in a medium often unforgiving to the independent filmmaker.  And at other times the necessity is more than simply monetary considerations:  Filmmaker Greta Snider made a hand-processed film as an act of artistic protest over a film lab refusing to print images it deemed too erotic.

In the 1960s the London Film-Makers' Co-op built their own hand-made processing machine, motivated by a desire to provide artists with the whole means of production, independent of the commercial film industry: "...Malcolm LeGrice and his students from St. Martin's School of Art began in 1967 to build the Co-op's first film developing and printing machinery, and only later thought to acquire film equipment...(the Rube Goldbergian wooden film developer leaked light and threatened to dissolve in its own chemical baths)..."*

And this desire is flourishing today in a number of artist-run film labs across the world, many of which can be found at filmlabs.org

* * *

The act of hand-developing film also has a poetic resonance to it; as if the transmutation sought by the alchemists is to be found in the blank emulsion of silver halides transforming into images.  There's something magical about seeing these little pictures emerge by your own effort.  And if a developing tank isn't accessible, all you need is a bucket!

"That's all."

______
*David Curtis, "A Tale of Two Co-ops" To Free the Cinema, David E. James ed. Princeton University Press, 1992. p 258-9

London and Norwich

Some more photos from the UK visit.  A meeting of The City of London Phonograph and Gramophone Society for a commemoration of the 100th anniversary of the Blue Amberol cylinder's introduction to the UK.  DJ MAC from WFMU's "Antique Phonograph Music Program" was traveling with me and made a recording of the presentation -- you can listen to it here.

* * *

Shot some film making the trip out to Kingston upon Thames to the site of the grave of Nipper, the "His Master's Voice" dog.  Or rather, the place where the grave once was, before a bank was built there. In the lobby of the bank is the plaque: "At the rear of Lloyds Bank is the last known resting place of Nipper the famous HMV dog.  This commemorative plaque was unveiled by Mr D. F. Johnson, Chairman of HMV Shops Limited on the 15th August 1984."

Every bit as underwhelming as I anticipated. The plaque might as well say "Nipper is not here."

* * *

A visit to Norwich to interview DJ78.  The shoot was terribly delayed by a guy in Ipswich who decided to climb onto the roof of the train station.  Ended up taking a little over ten hours to make the two hour journey from London to Norwich: waiting for hours at the station since the overhead lines that power the trains had been shut off, waiting in a long queue for a bus to drive all the passengers around the problem area, boarding a diesel train they brought in only to disembark before it even left the station when the police decided not to let any trains through, taking a bus to another train station where there was service, and then having to take two different trains to finally make it to Norwich.  Was such a welcoming sight for MAC and I to see DJ78 after so many hours of transportation limbo.

But despite these transportation woes, did get to film a lovely sequence punting on the river with portable gramophones.  What a splendid experience to be punting with the gramophone playing!  Indeed, listening to 78s on a boat seems to nicely illustrate one of the benefits of these acoustic and spring-driven devices free from the constraints of some form of power supply.

* * *

A sad event just prior to the UK visit; the passing of DJ El Nino, who I'd been in touch with in order to interview and film at a wonderful London vintage event called The Black Cotton Club.  Did shoot some footage of The Black Cotton Club.  Did get to briefly meet DJ Lady Kamikaze, the co-host of The Black Cotton Club and widow of El Nino.  Throughout the trip got to experience how greatly El Nino is missed by the many people who knew him.  He had been one of the central facilitators in energizing the vintage scene with the events he helped create, and through his participation as a 78 record spinner.  He was far too young, but cancer is a cruel and unforgiving thing.

"That's all."

London!

The end of June marked the moving past half-way point in the shooting of "78rpm."  Took a visit up to Victrola Repair Service in Vermont.  Was very nice to see the place after years of sending motors up there to be worked on and springs to be replaced.  Some other enjoyable shoots included bellydancing and music on 78 record with Kaoru and MAC at Bizarre in Bushwick; an interview with Denny Daniel of the Museum of Interesting Things; roving with the camera amid the shelves of 78s at the Rogers and Hammerstein Archives of Recorded Sound; and a fun time creating a Georges Melies inspired sequence with Professor Adam Smasher!

A good feeling to be more than half done with the shooting on the film.  Several more shoots planned out for August and September in the New York area, but July is mostly devoted to doing interviews and gathering footage in the UK.

* * *

A fascinating vintage culture scene here in London and elsewhere in the UK.  On Sunday was doing some shooting of the Shellac Sisters at the Henley Festival, spinning 78s on portable gramophones.

Picked up some records at the flea market, and also at the Tony Tunes record shop.  Was looking for examples of the "local flavor" of the place -- English music hall examples and such (found a few nice ones) -- but also interesting to see how much the American cultural influence spread itself to the rest of the world: with stacks and stacks of Bing Crosby and the like.  Passed on those.  But did pick up a little Mickey Katz, and British pressings of the California Ramblers, and Louis Armstrong, just because I couldn't resist.

Visited The City of London Phonograph and Gramophone Society, where a presentation on the Blue Amberol cylinder took place.

Coming up, shooting some film at The Black Cotton Club and a visit to DJ78 in Norwich.  You can read this very nice interview with him here.

"That's all."