(What the heck is the past tense of “debut?” Whatever.)

Anyhoozers, my short WAR & PEAS got some play at the Chicago Short Comedy Film and Video Festival. It got some good laughs, and the story seemed to keep the audience engaged throughout. I can barely watch the video anymore after all that editing, but listening to the audience react was amazing and extremely rewarding.

You can watch my short here.

Also, check out some of my faves at the fest:

Sharply written and well acted with great production value. Overall, this one impressed me most…

High-pace satire. And cats.

My only regret is that they didn’t end it with a newborn baby…

Writing a fart joke is like writing a piece of music… but instead of having twelve notes to work with, you get one. Pacing is everything.

Just kidding, I don’t own a watch. Who does anymore? With the ubiquity of cell phones, the common wrist watch has gone the way of the payphone and the fax machine—still present, but utterly unnecessary. Watches survive now as expressions of our personality… Expressions like:

“I’m classically styled and reliable.”
“I like collecting retro things.”
“I’m rich. Look at this hunk of precious metal.”

Anyway, I digress.

According to my proverbial watch, it’s been six whole months of gray, dreary weather in Chicago. I’m loving the sun like never before. So In honor of our now-balmy climate and the wonderful summer ahead, I just wanted look back at what it felt like to live in the Windy City four months ago:

Consider it a student project. This little short is a part of my larger effort to learn the craft of filmmaking and expand my skill set. I had previously done some very simple exercises in editing or directing a performance, but this newest piece was a huge step up in scale and difficulty. In the beginning, this was just going to be an experiment in shooting a 4-way conversation at a table without breaking continuity or the 180º rule, but it soon became much more than that.

I shot this short on a DVX 100b, and as you can see, I paid very little regard to the technical elements of the shoot (video noise, exposure). On the other hand, I wish I had captured better location sound. (Thank goodness for all the help I got from my industry friends in the post process. The final product turned out very nice.)

Pam: Lauren Hearter
Ethel: Angela Riccetti
Jake: Ronald Szoke
Fred: Spiro Zafiropoulos

Directed By:
Dan Pedersen

Written By:
Angela Riccetti

Sound Design By:
Paul Grajek

Original Score By:
Mark Scearce

Titles By:
Charlie Smith

“Shots of Patron” By:
Albert Hidalgo

Special thanks:
Chris Bean, John Klein, Mark Lowrey, Mike Carothers, Stace Crawley

Judo is one of many hobbies of mine (well, it is during the times I’m not recovering from injuries sustained in Judo). I thought it would be interesting to see what two-time bronze medalist and current team coach Jimmy Pedro thought about his martial art, the state of the sport, and it’s new-found popularity with UFC fighters.

You can read the results of my nerd-tastic interview here:

Part 1—Coach Pedro explains Judo and talks about his overall thoughts on MMA and the UFC

Part 2—The current state of Olympic Judo and the future of the sport

Part 3—Coach Pedro analyzes moments in MMA fights where Judo was used, and breaks down the techniques step-by-step

Coach Pedro, wearing the white gi, in his Olympic days. The man in blue is trying to save his arm from certain ouchies.

We now return to your regularly scheduled (and irregularly updated) design blog.

We were shooting footage for the title sequence of a personal project when fruit guts splashed the lights. Should have worn eye protection, in hindsight.

(See if you can spot the shrapnel as it crosses the frame.)

It’s an often-heard expression. A magazine hits newsstands, the model or actor looks way too thin, and fingers get pointed. There have been too many cases of photo anorexia lately, and as a result, Adobe’s humble little program has developed a nasty reputation for fraud and body-image quackery.

But it’s not actually Photoshop’s fault at all, no more than a scalpel can be at fault for malpractice. The problem lies with the art director. That red grease pen—with its power to prescribe, alter and heal—has given a few of us a god complex. Now, when Kelly Clarkson complains about the distortion of her own image for a magazine cover , the editor dismisses the complaint, claiming only to make Clarkson “look her personal best”.

In the 80s and 90s, Cindy Crawford nearly trademarked the mole. Now, any little fleck and discoloration is viewed as a cancer and burned away. Modern editors and designers have become numb to perfection, and some have begun seeking new highs—larger doses of symmetry, new extremes in length or uniformity.

Photo alteration has become such a valued skill that some Photoshoppers are becoming famous themselves. Pascal Dangin is considered by some to be the number one retoucher in fashion today. Over thirty celebrities keep him on retainer. The New Yorker has put together a great piece on Pascal and the world he operates in.

Dangin is, by all accounts, an adept plumper of breasts and shrinker of pores. Using the principles of anatomy and perspective, he is able to smooth a blemish or a blip (“anomalies,” he calls them) with a painterly subtlety.

Now The New Yorker could take note from Dangin on the whole “subtlety” thing, but they aren’t far off. A good retoucher understands when to improve and when they’ve stepped too far into the Uncanny Valley. And if you’ve ever personally watched one work, they really do use the pen and tablet the way an artist uses canvas and brush.

It’s not all so bad. Photo doctoring, in small doses, is an accepted part of our culture. All over the country, retouchers are curing school portraits of all manner of ailments—Acne cleared up, boogers removed, teeth whitened and eyes brightened. Wedding photographers are taking “bridezillas” from perspiring to smiling in a few clicks. Advertisements, the photos of food in your menus, the sunsets on that travel brochure–Photoshop has been an essential part of quality control in print production for years. It’s not necessarily to manipulate our perception either. The printing press can be an unforgiving tool, and some doctoring is necessary to ensure the image makes it onto paper in one piece. So, don’t blame Photoshop every time some unscrupulous editor decides to trim 50 pounds off a model. Retouching is a little like any other prescription: Healthy in small doses, poisonous in large.

Retouching: Bringing smiles to people's faces, one click at a time.

It’s a strange idea when you think about it it—some people are professionally attractive. They can sell a product just by standing next to it. But it’s not a solo effort. Behind the camera, an army of artists keep the hair in place and the clothing coordinated.

Away we go, with functional and randomly aquired attire.

That might explain why this photo looks so weird to me. These people look normal. I mean, they seem to be enjoying themselves, but the hair and wardrobe is a complete mess. There’s absolutely no indication that a stylist or makeup artist even touched them before they stepped in front of the camera.

Just like in real life.

I just watched Away We Go and Sunshine Cleaning almost back-to-back this weekend, and the characters and costumes really stuck out. Advertising has always been a little too pretty for its own good (with a few amazing exceptions), but even Hollywood normally doesn’t take the realism this far. Why would a producer shell out millions of dollars for a beautiful face and magnetic onscreen presence when the artsy-fartsy director is just going to hide it all under glasses and a $10 haircut?

Someone was paid a lot of money to make these people look normal.

Don’t get me wrong—I love it. I can relate to these characters. It’s good art direction. Both stories are about people struggling to build a life for themselves. Their charm is in their imperfection, and not many of us “real people” have a wardrobe stylist correcting our color/pattern choices each morning. “Real” people wear the socks and tie their kids gave them on their birthday—vibrating, unmatchable colors be damned. Personally, I roll with jeans, t-shirt and a hoodie 300 days out of the year (I only own one suit), so I have no fashion stone to be casting here.

The first time I saw “anti-style” like this was in very strange and amazing movie called Being John Malkovich. Supposedly Lance Accord, the cinematographer, was almost fired when the producers saw how disheveled the cast looked in the dailies. I remember being completely taken aback by the movie myself. I had never seen anything like it. I was so unprepared for the visual “dirt” on display I could barely watch the movie without squirming in my chair.

That reaction I had made me realize how overperfect TV and film usually is. Ever hear the phrase “the camera adds a few pounds?” I don’t think it’s the camera. I think it’s our minds becoming numb to the imagery. We are used to cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. We are used to wardrobes assembled by a team of artists and experts. It doesn’t have the same impact anymore. Put a normal-looking person onscreen? People will be blinded by the contrast.

Scott Buckwald has been the prop master on a variety of popular movies and television programs, including Race to Witch Mountain and The Prestige. Recently, Buckwald spoke with us about his experiences as a prop master for AMC’s hit show Mad Men. He discussed what life was like in the early 1960s, when Mad Men takes place, and the lengths he had to go to to source and create authentic period props for the show.  He also talked about TV and movie props generally, and his personal experience as a collector.

This really is an amazing interview, and from Collector’s Weekly of all places.

I’m a big fan of Mad Men (like most people in this industry). It’s a great show to sit back and enjoy, but as I watch, I’m often too aware of the characters and the story as constructs of writers and actors. I imagine the show’s staff in present-day offices, fleshing out tales of cigarettes and typewriters with the help of Starbucks and PowerMacs. These writers use suspense and surprise the way anglers use dynamite. When Don Draper’s life becomes dull or serene, I’m aware the show is just lighting the fuse atop a big pile of cruelty.

However, it’s a huge testament to the art department that I rarely step back and think about the set design or costumes or props. Sure, half the thrill of the show is holding up the 60’s pallette and comparing it to the present, but rarely do I think, “Man, that brand of beer hasn’t existed for 30 years. Who made the prop?”

A couple years ago, I did work for CAPS57, a manufacturer of packaging prototypes (you can find the print ads in my portfolio). In a few months I learned more about “heroes” and “comps” than most do in a lifetime. Each piece is hand-crafted by artists, and it takes time. To imagine the sheer scale of work that must go into every scene of Mad Men is mind boggling.

Anachronism = hate mail? Probably.