The Salt Student Blog » Documentary Perspectives http://blog.salt.edu Tue, 17 Aug 2010 16:19:19 +0000 en hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0.1 all these places have their moments http://blog.salt.edu/all-these-places-have-their-moments-2 http://blog.salt.edu/all-these-places-have-their-moments-2#comments Sat, 22 May 2010 01:22:14 +0000 Emma http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1648 “Clarissa had a theory in those days – they had heaps of theories, always theories, as young people have. It was to explain the feeling they had of dissatisfaction; not knowing people; not being known. For how could they know each other? You met every day; then not for six months, or years. It was unsatisfactory, they agreed, how little one knew people. But she said, sitting on the bus going up Shaftesbury Avenue, she felt herself everywhere; not ‘here, here, here’; and she tapped the back of the seat; but everywhere. She waved her hand, going up Shaftesbury Avenue. She was all that. So that to know her, or any one, one must seek out the people who completed them; even the places. Odd affinities she had with people she had never spoke to, some women in the street, some man behind a counter – even trees, or barns. It ended in a transcendental theory which, with her horror of death, allowed her to believe, or say that she believed (for all her scepticism), that since our apparitions, the part of us which appears, are so momentary compared with the other, the unseen part of us, which spreads wide, the unseen might survive, be recovered somehow attached to this person or that, or even haunting certain places, after death. Perhaps – perhaps.” -Virginia Woolf Mrs. Dalloway

“What have you learned this semester?”

A question I’ve been asked countless times. Where can I begin?

Craft. Structure. Ethics.

Editing. Transcribing. Promo-making.

There are too many things and not enough words. But if I had to summarize the most important thing I’ve learned at Salt it’s this: stories give life meaning.

Without stories we have no literature, no films, no music. Without stories we have no heroines or conflicts, no plots or through lines.

Stories invite us on a journey.

Sometimes they’re scary. Sometimes it’s easier if we choose not to listen or view or read. They make us uncomfortable because we’re forced to confront the troubles and tensions present in many lives.

Sometimes they’re light-hearted and humorous. They make us smile. We forget that we’re taking time out of our day in order to partake in the journey.

Most stories give us a team to root for. They inform and inspire. They make us understand humanity.

While looking back on this semester, I’ve come to realize that all forms of art strive to create connections among people and places. All art tries to show that things matter.

This is where I look to Virginia Woolf and her commentary on those unseen forces. The experiences we have shape who we are in such a way that the memories live on within us…and our stories live on long after we do. But it all depends upon one condition: the need for excellent storytellers.

I’ve come to appreciate the honor and power behind such storytelling.

So, thank you Salt.

We’ve turned in our keys. We’ve said our goodbyes.

But our voices will continue to linger within the narrow halls of our eclectic little building on Congress Street. The late-night hours and coffee trips, the photos and writing and audio clips, the younger versions of ourselves will still haunt the place that taught us how to view the world in a new way.

And if we ever find that we’re lost in a vast Alaskan wilderness or among a bustling crowd in the Big Apple or by ourselves on a dusty, Tennessee country road, we can think back on our time at Salt and remember: wherever we are, our stories are. And thus, we are never truly alone.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/all-these-places-have-their-moments-2/feed 0 down the rabbit hole http://blog.salt.edu/down-the-rabbit-hole http://blog.salt.edu/down-the-rabbit-hole#comments Thu, 20 May 2010 05:00:05 +0000 Sarah http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1643 Alice’s adventures in Lewis Carol’s book is an accurate way of describing what I have felt this past semester at Salt, like Alice entering the world of wonderland. There have been many times where I went down the rabbit hole, chasing stories and chasing photos–and I have ended up in places and situations that I wouldn’t have ever imagined being. That is the beauty of chasing stories. You find yourself lost in another person’s world for a second and you take a snapshot.

And so, it finally comes to an end. All of those thousands of photograhs. Those countless hours. And the glorious feeling of accomplishment. whew. i feel a sigh of relief. a sigh of pride. a sigh of exhaustion. and a sigh of freedom. I made it through what has been an experience so unlike anything I have before–so unique that what I have learned, loved, and worked for can only really be described as ‘salty’. There is no other descriptor that fits it best.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/down-the-rabbit-hole/feed 0 ends and beginnings http://blog.salt.edu/ends-and-beginnings http://blog.salt.edu/ends-and-beginnings#comments Wed, 19 May 2010 23:49:31 +0000 Tom http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1641 So, by about this time tomorrow, the gallery show will be nearing its end, and this whole Salt thing will have culminated, leaving me wondering exactly what it was that just happened to me, and more pointedly, what I am supposed to do now. While I’m sure that both will sort themselves out in due course, I’ve recently been reminded that the world that we entered, by heading out and plunging ourselves headlong into other people’s lives, is still going to be there. Through some weird twist of the universe, one of the people that I’d talked to in my second story, about the closing of the last sardine cannery in the states, just moved in across the street, and we ran into each other through mutual acquaintances. As strange as it was to see this person in a different context [insert the deafening sound of world's colliding], it did serve to remind me that the end of Salt is certainly not the end of this life. Which brings me to some desperate grasp at what this might have been: a kick into a way of being. Through these mad weeks, wherein I lost contact with most anyone not found in the Salt kitchen, life has been reordered, and new possabilities have appeared. It’s a bit of mental / existential chiropractic adjustment. Whether it sticks, we’ll see, but at least, for the moment, it seems something has been popped into place.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/ends-and-beginnings/feed 0 Almost There http://blog.salt.edu/almost-there http://blog.salt.edu/almost-there#comments Tue, 18 May 2010 20:17:11 +0000 Zachary http://blog.salt.edu/almost-there This semester has been long and grueling, but the view from the top looks nice! The story of the past several months has been filled with discovery, conflict, and quick pacing. The shift in perspective on a story from its birth to its completion is simply astonishing. The strangest part will come once our work is played in front of a live audience. All of the hours of our scrutiny will pass by in a matter of minutes, and our ideas will pass out of our computers and out into the universe! I can hardly wait.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/almost-there/feed 0 A pretty cool Maine magazine. http://blog.salt.edu/a-pretty-cool-maine-magazine http://blog.salt.edu/a-pretty-cool-maine-magazine#comments Fri, 30 Apr 2010 03:22:04 +0000 Cait http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1628 Hey guys, my friend Jess Harvey helps publish a small magazine about Maine every few months.  It’s called “Flannel Magazine”.  It is dedicated to Maine arts and culture, and they focus on the cultural significance of Maine life: the great outdoors, the creativity, and the do-it-yourself attitude. As their website says, “Maine is more than lobsters, tourism, and lighthouse paintings.”

The website for the magazine is http://flannelcollective.com/

A few of my photos might be in an upcoming issue, so I thought I’d pass along the information for you guys to submit your work.
If you’d like to submit photos/art to the magazine, email your photos to sean@flannelcollective.com.
If you’d like to submit a writing piece to the magazine, email your piece to travis@flannelcollective.com

If your work is put into the magazine, it’d be a cool keep-sake to have from your time here in Maine.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/a-pretty-cool-maine-magazine/feed 0 Exchange http://blog.salt.edu/exchange http://blog.salt.edu/exchange#comments Thu, 08 Apr 2010 20:18:24 +0000 Kelley http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1616 I go to the island of Vinalhaven and ride around in a car with a young woman. We go round and round. She shifts gears and talks. I put a microphone in her face.

Doing documentary feels a bit like stealing souls sometimes. You show up in this person’s life and you start pulling language out of them. You take their words, their thoughts, their insecurities, their innermost conflicts, and you shape it all into something that you slap your name on and present to the world.

But I like to think documentary is more than that. That there’s a reciprocity that happens when you’re sitting there with the documented, with your microphone or your camera or your notebook and pen. An exchange occurs.

The girl whose story I’m telling says she doesn’t write in a journal, but that my listening to her has the same effect as if she did. By telling me her story, she says she’s hoping to shed light on something that people regularly misunderstand about her. I want the final project to somehow reflect that hope.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/exchange/feed 0 courting a story http://blog.salt.edu/courting-a-story http://blog.salt.edu/courting-a-story#comments Thu, 08 Apr 2010 03:19:17 +0000 Maura E http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1598 in the writing track we’re about to dive head first into story #2, and leave #1 by the wayside, abandon it in the bowels of microsoft word for a while. i’m excited for the refreshment of a new project, and honestly can’t look at #1 in the same way anymore.  we’ve gone through a lot together, me and #1. there have been ups, there have been downs, laughter and tears. and now we need. distance.

Melissa gave us a great way to think about our stories – it’s like a relationship:

you have a first date, and if the sparks are there you keep things going – this is probably the first draft.

there’s the honeymoon, where everything is new and exciting. you’re learning new things, creating a bond, entering somebody else’s world.  it’s all you want to talk about, and keeps your mind spinning at night sometimes. you see the potential, and it’s intoxicating.

then things get serious: draft after draft, revise, edit, transcribe, delete, undo, redo, tweak, rewrite… suddenly the words you thought were brilliant when you were fresh and foolish look like. garbage. it’s not that the words are really bad, it’s just that you’ve spent too much time together, and can’t see them in their true light anymore.

it’s sad to let it go, but know that it’s the best for both of you.

we’re all courting now, and making commitments for our next fling.  #1 taught me a lot, i learned from our mistakes. #2, i think we’re really going places.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/courting-a-story/feed 0 hurry up and wait http://blog.salt.edu/hurry-up-and-wait http://blog.salt.edu/hurry-up-and-wait#comments Tue, 06 Apr 2010 19:00:15 +0000 Madeleine http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1600 I walk a fine line of ethical boundaries on a daily basis. This last week has tested my ability to decipher the lines and where they get blurry. When is it acceptable to help my subject and when do I become a part of her story? I can’t help but think that I am already a part of it just by being in this person’s life. I guess the idea is to not become the story. As I learned this week (after talking it through with Kate like three times), sometimes it’s okay to reach out a minor helping hand in a time of extreme need. Even just the action of reaching out might gain you more access. It could also ruin everything. So far, so good.

It all feels like a grand manipulation in order to get people to share with me the most intimate details of their lives. Is that what makes a good documentarian? All I know is that it’s working (sort of). Slowly but surely I am becoming trusted… only to be angrily pushed away again for a while. Two steps forward and one step back, right? I feel like I’m constantly waiting to plan and planning to wait, which sort of drives me up the wall. But I’ll continue to push and pray for a little more access and maybe at some point I can get to that sweet spot where I am all at once admitted, accepted and forgotten.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/hurry-up-and-wait/feed 0 lesson learned, price paid http://blog.salt.edu/lesson-learned-price-paid http://blog.salt.edu/lesson-learned-price-paid#comments Tue, 30 Mar 2010 18:39:16 +0000 Maura B http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1544 So it’s week 7 and I’m thinking, “why don’t my subjects DO anything?!” And while I’m busy lamenting that “reality,” away from my subjects, frustration oozing out of me, the BEST moments are happening. A 15 minute walk away. And I’m ignorant of THAT reality. The real reality. The learning continues. Wait around a little, be patient. The goodies are there.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/lesson-learned-price-paid/feed 0 How wet should I let my camera get? http://blog.salt.edu/how-wet-should-i-let-my-camera-get http://blog.salt.edu/how-wet-should-i-let-my-camera-get#comments Tue, 30 Mar 2010 15:34:35 +0000 Leah http://blog.salt.edu/?p=1541 Why must it pour every time I shoot something outside?

Running down the Stone pier wharf on Chebeague Island yesterday my mind was full of dreamlike images of the Deborah Lee, run aground, so it’s captain could check out the damage he did to her over this past scalloping season: Him inspecting her wooden hull, peering under the massive boat as she leaned against the wharf on the beach.

But it was pouring. And he was hiding inside. And I’m not sure how wet I should let my camera get. After trudging around in the mud and seaweed, shooting the old girl but seeing rain marks on my lens in the preview, I ran back up to the car, waving to the islanders as they walked hunched to the commuter ferry, “What a rig!” one guy said, taking a picture of the Deborah Lee with his camera phone. “Yea, I know, right?” I shouted hopping into the truck a little disheartened. And this morning, I’m back in Portland via the Casco Bay Lines, praying that she’ll get hauled out again this spring for painting and I’ll get the images that are in my head and not my camera.

]]> http://blog.salt.edu/how-wet-should-i-let-my-camera-get/feed 0