Tyler Gibb - Writer, Director, Editor, Filmmaker

Recently I was at a bit of a family gathering type thing. I was introduced to cousins to whom I am related in ways I can never quite remember - I’m terrible at these things. Anyway, human gatherings aren’t especially within my comfort zone but with the warm label of “family” attached to this one I felt as at ease as I could in such a situation. My state of mind is important here because of the following conversation killer.

It was announced that one of the young cousins, suffering through the age of high-school, is fond of illustration. All heads turn my way. Any career advice for the young man? they asked the unemployed “artist” suffering through the age of mid-life.

This is where the state of mind becomes important. See even in the most comfortable of social situations, I’m still usually so wound up that my brain is only running on half-power. This makes for doing things like giving life advice to an impressionable teenager at the drop of hat a little stressful.

So I stalled. Collected my thoughts. Then just went with whatever came to mind second. (Because, naturally, what came to mind first was marry into money).

I told the young, impressionable and doomed cousin that nobody’s going to care about your grades, they’re going to want to see your portfolio so focus on that. But go to school anyway for the experiences and try every discipline, eventually you’ll realize what you love most - even if you never figure out why. And most important remember that rejection is not a measure of the quality of your work, sometimes it’s just not the right fit.

At least that’s what I think I said. It’s what came from my gut so I hope it’s fair advice. My theory on advice is that the adviser is only ever going to be able to speak from their own experience so objectivity is pretty much moot. But that said if you happen to hear something that resonates then so be it, its just a new perspective to consider.

Poor guy. Illustration. Yikes. Even so called fine artists think us illustrators are half-assing it.

Many moons ago I stumbled upon a podcast. An unabridged, lo-fi and hopelessly honest podcast by a pair of restaurateurs from Minnesota who moved to Hollywood with the dream of being paid to write. Earlier this month, the SyFy channel (US) and Showcase here in Canada premiered Haven.

Haven is a supernatural series based on a Stephen King novel and executive produced (that’s TV speak for written & created by) by a pair of restaurateurs from Minnesota; Sam Ernst and Jim Dunn.

The Sam & Jim Go To Hollywood podcast (http://ow.ly/2dtBp) contains hours of material that charts the rise of two writers for better and worse in real time. This isn’t revisionist history, or a biography; it’s a real account, spanning years, of the trials and tribulations by these guys learning as they go. What’s more, it’s full of useful insights on the industry and tips for writers by guys who went balls out to achieve their dream and succeeded.

Bravo.

Not so long ago I was the acting soundman on the production of a short. What was particularily interesting to me was that this “film” was being shot on a DSLR camera. That’s D like Digital and SLR like Single Lens Reflex. Even though DSLR cameras - as far as I can tell - have no need for a reflex device, the name remains.

I know, I’m a little late to the party on posting about the wonders of DSLR video innovations but I hadn’t actually seen the short film until recently. Two years ago, this kind of “filmic” video quality was not widely available. Now it’s the consumer norm for parents-to-be looking to upgrade from their old point-and-shoot digital which has suddenly been rendered unworthy to photograph their impending offspring. The quality is actually pretty damn awesome.

I would encourage everybody getting geared up to shoot their next no-budget indie, not to buy one. “Not” because surely, 18 months from now, an even better technology will be built into wristwatches or something and we’ll all want to shoot our next short on that.

What’s particularly remarkable about the DSLR technology is the response to low-light levels. Now, I’m not terribly well versed in anything photographic since 35mm film but it’s always surprised me how crappy video is in low light. You’d think, I don’t know, my digital camera could print to the flash card what I see on the LCD viewfinder instead of stopping it down by five points… But I digress. I guess camera manufacturers wanted to preserve the authenticity of traditional photography by including those most irritating aspects of film technology such as crappy low light response. Regardless, it doesn’t matter any more, because finally these DSLR badboys are finding the light in those dark places. This short I was working on was lit with nothing but a flashlight and my radiant smile.

What was my point with all this? Oh, right. I’ve got some nighttime shots to coordinate for an upcoming project and I was thinking about low-light. Being that we’re not all expectant parents looking to upgrade our point-and-shoot digitals for the latest space technology optics, I’ve been thinking about shooting day for night. Never done that before. I usually hate it when I can spot it in a film but who knows how many times I haven’t spotted it, so yeah, I’ll be sure to report back.

This has been a pretty slipshod post. Sorry about that. It’s a long weekend. Which means substantially less when you don’t actually have a 9 to 5, but oddly enough, it seems to affect my brain in the same way.

Conclusion, if you’re looking at cameras, look at the new DLSRs. If you’re stuck with an aging two year old buick, maybe day for night will work better?

I heard an interesting interview with Nicholas Carr recently on CBC radio’s Spark. A little nugget from the discourse that stuck with me was about our human predisposition to having a lack of concentrated focus. From a prehistoric perspective, it doesn’t suit survival very well to be too focused on any one thing. Because, as Carr was saying in the interview, you’ve got to be on the lookout for predators and make sure you don’t “overlook that nice berry bush”, so we’re constantly distracted.

I like this notion. Especially during days when I find my focus to be a little off. It’s a good excuse. Roaming through a bunch of ideas in my mind and not being able to decide which one to focus on can feel a bit like a failing. But I suppose in those instances I just haven’t found the nicest berry bush to work on.

What interested me more about Carr’s notion was actually the flip side to this. I began thinking, if our natural state is to be distracted, that just makes times of extreme focus - like, say, actually writing a screenplay - all the more astonishing. And I don’t like feeling distracted. I like bringing everything home to the fine point of focus it takes to write… Man, I would have been eaten alive in the jungle!

I wonder if the more focused you are when you’re focused, the more disorientating the distractions when you’re between periods of focus. It can sure feel like that. But maybe that’s what it takes to stumble on a new idea. Extremes over mediocrity. Maybe.

I’d contemplate this some more but it requires more focus than I can spare at the moment. I need to go gather some berries… And sprinkle them on my cereal.

I know, I know, bad blogger. But what can I say, chanterelle season came early.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about investing. Not about banking but about the entertainment business and where those in it place their confidence.

Someone’s making a film about Mattel’s Magic 8-Ball. Battleship, Monopoly and Candyland too. Children’s games. Remember the first Hollywood remake you ever heard announced? And you thought, if it ain’t broke… Why are they remaking something that was great to begin with? Then sequels and prequels became the rage, or rather, the safe bet. And now with Transformers and G.I. Joe bridging the gap between remakes and action figures it’s no great leap anymore to get to boardgames and toys.

(I got an early glimpse at the new Slinky script - so brilliant! Touching, really.)

What’s the lesson here? Business people want to minimize risk. Ergo, an iconic trade mark with nostalgic appeal, few million dollars in marketing and star power and voila: No risk, no worries, and everybody will go see it because the TV told us to. I get it. It makes sense. Where is it going to leave us in ten years when we’re all out of children’s toys to pervert and the remake of 2013’s Jenga: The Movie has just flopped at the box office, well, that’s some else’s problem.

How do I figure into this? Not terribly well, really. I like writing new stories. Exploring new ideas. But, save for grabbing a camera, going out and shooting something myself - which I have been known to do - I also like to try to get others involved when possible. Namely investors. The trouble is, I don’t own the life rights to the shoe from Monopoly or any other property that harkens back to simpler times.

The closest I have is Minushi. It’s no Coke and Mentos video but it’s always had a following and therefore could be the closest thing I have to a property. I spoke to a literary agent a few years ago hoping she’d be interested in reading a new script I’d just finished writing. I was super amped about it, really knew it would impress. She wasn’t interested in reading. “What about this Minushi movie of yours, why don’t you send me that. That looks like something I could sell.”

Sounds like good news, eh? Yeah, at first. Until you realize you’re talking to a literary agent who doesn’t read. Wow. Score one for “picture’s worth a thousand words.”

People don’t want to know you. They want to know what you can do for them. How you can, as quickly and as painlessly, make them money. Once upon a time, people invested in people. In long term potential. It took responsibility, foresight and yeah, maybe some balls. But it was an investment. Maybe it’s symptomatic of an industry that’s being shaken up like a cup full of Yahtzee dice, but shortsightedness seems rampant. That’s the same kind of behaviour we see in people going down in a sinking ship.

Once upon a time, somebody at Mattel took a chance on the original Magic 8-Ball. Good for you Guy at Mattel in the 1940s… With your cigarettes and your fedora… Your big post-WWII capitalist balls… Good for you, buddy.