It’s not the first time that entrepreneurs (who happen to be LDS) have developed a technology-based business based around making popular media more LDS-friendly. You might remember Cleanflix, which offered rentals of edited Hollywood films. There’s a fantastic documentary on the business and its competitors where you can see clips from the Cleanflix-approved edit of The Big Lebowski.
So here’s the conflict.
As an artist, I get a bit riled up whenever people decide they need to change an artist’s work to make it “better.”
As a techno-utopian, I get excited by technological opportunities for audiences to interact with their media and do more with it.
As a fan who grew up with George Lucas’ original Star Wars trilogy, I’m very defensive of an audience’s right to enjoy the media the way they want to enjoy it.
But I think what ultimately wins out in me is the evangelist for democratized media. And that’s the part of me that just does not understand.
First of all, it does not understand the fascination that the customers of these services have with consuming media that they know features content they don’t wish to consume. It seems to me that — all questions of the quality of the writing aside — someone who is disgusted by graphic depictions of sex and/or bondage should probably not be reading the Fifty Shades trilogy, even if they’re reading an expurgated version.
You ever get the feeling like everyone threw out their crap cards during the round of Apples to Apples that you are judging?
In possibly the only instance when “Canadians wins this time” is grammatically correct.
Unless you’re playing against inveterate cheater Bob Canadians.
You may recall that I draw a comic called FPK. Here is my first experiment with something new — a process video showing the drawing of a strip. I’ve used YouTube annotations to add notes about the process. You’ll probably have to watch the video on YouTube to see those.
I popped by Kindle Worlds to check out the rules for writing a story about The Dead Man (a series I was already interested in trying to write for) when I noticed a very familiar charicature mixed in with the logos for Pretty Little Liars and The Vampire Diaries.
When I was a theatre student at Virginia Tech (longer ago than I care to admit), I started every directing task by making sketches inspired by the text.
Often, the sketches had nothing to do with the physical reality of the final work. These were not costume or set renderings — they were just my ideas given shape, usually in the pages of a fancy sketch journal. And at some point the cast would see the journal, and hopefully get an idea of how I was seeing the show in my mind’s eye.
It’s years later, and I find myself preparing to direct The Winter’s Tale for Open Air Shakespeare NRV. This time, however, the sketch journal is digital, living on my iPad in Paper by Fifty-Three. Which means my sketches get to be a little more elaborate — a little more color, a little more playing with the texture of different tools.
But still, the core concept remains. The images are there in my head. It’s not about getting them onto the stage (or screen, as the case may be) verbatim, so much as it’s about getting them drawn so that I can see my thought processes.
And then I can start to build on those thoughts — creating something that’s completely different, but still heading in the same direction.
“He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.”
— William Shakespeare, Hamlet
I’ve been editing The Winter’s Tale for a production I’m going to be directing. Editing Shakespeare is always an interesting task. When you start out slashing lines and cutting scenes, you get a real sense for the poetry and rhythm, and how much your edits are hurting it. You see lines that are eloquently written — and that you truly love — disappearing under your pen, and it doesn’t take long to start to feel like the hackiest hack in all of hackdom.
Then, somewhere around the final moments of your first pass through the text, you start to realize something. Shakespeare was, first and foremost, a writer. An amazing writer — a writer that is unsurpassed in the English language — but still a writer. And as a writer, he dealt with the issues that all writers dealt with.
Shakespeare had deadlines to meet. He had actor egos to consider. He had wealthy and demanding patrons to satisfy. None of these things make him any less of a writer, but they all become more and more obvious the more time you spend parsing his work.