Somehow fortune smiled upon me and planted the seed of frightened rabbit in my brain the one time I got stuck listening to the radio. I have to say I am overwhelmed with this band from Scotland and their amazing musical skills and talents. They are one of the best lyrical storytellers since the tindersticks and tom waits in my opinion.
Their forthcoming studio release, The Winter of Mixed Drinks is slated for release March 1, 2010 and I sit on pins and needles to purchase another amazing album from this unbelievable band. They released a 7" Single, Swim Until You Can't See Land with a song sharing the same title and another called, Fun Stuff. Another Single scheduled for release in February 2010 is Nothing Like You.
A friend mentioned that lead singer, Scott Hutchinson, sounds like Dave Matthews, and at first I somewhat reluctantly agreed, until listening to frightened rabbit over and over again, realizing it's his Scottish accent transcending the vocals.
To anyone out there reading this, I suggest you pick up a copy of frightened rabbit or check them out at their: website or at their myspace page.
12.30.2009
12.28.2009
Leslie Feinberg and Minnie Bruce Pratt
I had the wonderful fortune to be introduced to transgender socialist-activist, speaker, artist and author, Leslie Feinberg and poet-activist Minnie Bruce Pratt, who foster my creativity and allow me an opportunity to create new work unfettered. I don't necessarily think that I need to provide those modifiers to their names, but I do it out of respect for who they are and what they do, and if you knew them you'd know the modifiers are an integral part of who they are.
I met Leslie early this year and we have worked together for three seasons. My introduction to Minnie Bruce came a little later, but none-the-less it is a relationship I cherish. These two are my de Medicis with whom the pleasure to work for transcends work and becomes pure creativity.
Leslie has bestowed gifts of hir writings, which I have gladly and proudly consumed. The first writing I read of hirs was Stone Butch Blues and I have to say it was a roller coaster ride, but one of beauty, sensitivity, struggle, hardship and elegance. I still have yet to talk with Leslie honestly and in all sincerity about making a film out of this tome. As I read Stone Butch Blues it flickered like an old eight millimeter film in my mindscape and being able to honor Leslie in creating a film from hir text would make me more than proud, but we still need to talk. Leslie has also gifted me hir other writings which I have also consumed with pleasure and great interest.
Minnie Bruce and I have recently developed our relationship with the chapbook publication of her book, The Money Machine, which I had the privilege in constructing the graphic layout and makeup with use of imagery that Leslie has created. Soon, The Money Machine will be constructed in a new form other than a chapbook. I am also working on a somewhat lesser scale than I did with Leslie on Minnie Bruce's website, which we will be updating. Minnie Bruce has also afforded me a copy of her chapbook lovingly signed as are all of Leslie's copies.
Now, I am writing about Leslie and Minnie Bruce because I cannot provide a sufficient enough thank you for the patronage they have given me and because in them, I have found two loving, supportive and genuinely open individuals that are wonderful human beings and friends. As members of the greater LGBT community, Leslie and Minnie Bruce have included me without reservations. With this inclusion I stand in solidarity with them . . . hopefully the LGBT community will soon be offered as much liberty as the heterosexual status quo enjoys, but I know in all reality that they will continue to struggle against the old boy's club that plagues our body politic.
Thank you Leslie. Thank you Minnie Bruce. You both mean the world to me and it is an honor to be able to sit beside you and work.
For information regarding Leslie visit: leslie's website or leslie's pageflake
and for Minnie Bruce: minnie bruce's website
I met Leslie early this year and we have worked together for three seasons. My introduction to Minnie Bruce came a little later, but none-the-less it is a relationship I cherish. These two are my de Medicis with whom the pleasure to work for transcends work and becomes pure creativity.
Leslie has bestowed gifts of hir writings, which I have gladly and proudly consumed. The first writing I read of hirs was Stone Butch Blues and I have to say it was a roller coaster ride, but one of beauty, sensitivity, struggle, hardship and elegance. I still have yet to talk with Leslie honestly and in all sincerity about making a film out of this tome. As I read Stone Butch Blues it flickered like an old eight millimeter film in my mindscape and being able to honor Leslie in creating a film from hir text would make me more than proud, but we still need to talk. Leslie has also gifted me hir other writings which I have also consumed with pleasure and great interest.
Minnie Bruce and I have recently developed our relationship with the chapbook publication of her book, The Money Machine, which I had the privilege in constructing the graphic layout and makeup with use of imagery that Leslie has created. Soon, The Money Machine will be constructed in a new form other than a chapbook. I am also working on a somewhat lesser scale than I did with Leslie on Minnie Bruce's website, which we will be updating. Minnie Bruce has also afforded me a copy of her chapbook lovingly signed as are all of Leslie's copies.
Now, I am writing about Leslie and Minnie Bruce because I cannot provide a sufficient enough thank you for the patronage they have given me and because in them, I have found two loving, supportive and genuinely open individuals that are wonderful human beings and friends. As members of the greater LGBT community, Leslie and Minnie Bruce have included me without reservations. With this inclusion I stand in solidarity with them . . . hopefully the LGBT community will soon be offered as much liberty as the heterosexual status quo enjoys, but I know in all reality that they will continue to struggle against the old boy's club that plagues our body politic.
Thank you Leslie. Thank you Minnie Bruce. You both mean the world to me and it is an honor to be able to sit beside you and work.
For information regarding Leslie visit: leslie's website or leslie's pageflake
and for Minnie Bruce: minnie bruce's website
12.07.2009
Confrontation between the Sober and the Stoned Or the Douchebag Downstairs
So, last night (12/4/09) I had a confrontation with the tenant downstairs, the first manly pissing match between a twenty-something and me, a thirty-something. I was trying to sleep, okay maybe early for some people, 11PM my time, but none-the-less I have been sick and I'm trying to mend.
So, at about 11:20PM I can't handle his guitar playing any longer and I get out of bed, throw on my Carhartts and shirt, head downstairs and ring his doorbell, mind you it's hovering around 30 degrees and I'm standing on the front porch waiting for him to answer the door. Two minutes go by, no answer and I head back upstairs, a bit aggravated, but tired. I walk into my bedroom and hear his guitar still so I head back downstairs and ring his doorbell again, this time I lay on the button for a three count. Finally, I hear some stirring. He answers the door glassy-eyed, wearing a baseball hat askew on his head like some thug, mind you he's White middle class. He gave me this grimace, "like great, what do you want." So, I asked him if he can stop playing his guitar so I can get some sleep and he just about explodes if it weren't for being under the influence of the cheeba, it's just pouring out of his apartment. You can see it in his eyes, he's trying to pull together information to argue with me over the appropriateness of this visit. So, his retort is, "it's eleven o'clock on a Friday and I'm trying to relax a little because I'm writing my thesis." Great, am I suppose to sympathize for him because he's choosing to work on his thesis so late in the evening, that he's stoned, or that he's trying to relax by playing guitar that's keeping me awake? Now, our leases stipulate the quiet hour is eleven PM.
A bit of back story before I continue on with the confrontation. I have, in the past, rung his doorbell a few times to ask him to either A. turn down his music or B. turn down his surround sound bass. On one occasion he stated, "It's not eleven o'clock yet." That's all well and good, but I didn't come down because it was eleven o'clock. On other occasions, I had to admit, the surround sound wasn't loud, just the sub-woofer existing in a space about 20 feet in length, which acoustically only allows me, upstairs, to hear it. So, I couldn't argue with him about the level of the volume. Also, the house we live in is a two story family home, uninsulated without a sound barrier between floors, he's obviously on the first flat and I on the second. There also exists a parking situation, he parks in the narrow single lane drive before I do, because he doesn't use his car much and when he needs to get out, he usually rings my doorbell, I go downstairs and he's just standing there assuming I can intuit what he wants. Sometimes, he's not even there, he might be at his car in the drive which I can't see when I open my door, or he's gone back in his house to get something I assume, then I just head back upstairs. So, his ability to communicate is somewhat deadened by the few brain cells that are able to get him through his MA program at SU.
Back to the confrontation of last night. As I mentioned, the quiet hour is eleven PM, and our leases stipulate that. He continues to tell me, "it's Friday and the quiet hour is midnight," which I correct him by saying, "read your lease, the quiet hour is eleven PM." Well he doesn't seem to like the fact that I'm interrupting his guitar playing relaxation time, or the fact that I know what our leases stipulate. So, he begins to get all whiny, holding a pity party and begins playing the Grad School student on a Friday night victim. He begins to tell me that I've called the cops on our neighbors for playing a video game console loudly, which is incorrect. I've called the cops on the neighbors for holding a seemingly impromptu party at 2AM waking me up from a deep sleep, which the cops were never able to make it over to suggest they turn the volume down and keep it inside. He also brings up the instances I've gone down to request him to turn down the volume, which as I stated earlier in his apartment it wasn't loud, but it was loud in my apartment.
It didn't take long for me to raise my voice, which he called me out on, and I replied that I just beat him to the punch, because his voice was also rising in volume. He suggested that I call the landlord (that wasn't going to happen at 11:30pm) and I told him if he wasn't so inconsiderate that he would turn it down and I told him to step outside, because in all honesty I was prepared to pummel him and break him clean down. I've been enduring a level of volume which is invasive and pervasive in my apartment all coming from his apartment, music, guitar playing with horrible accompanied singing, loud surround sound, loud talking, door slamming (a Grad student that doesn't know how to shut a door is really pathetic), etc. Then he said he was going to call the cops for me threatening him, which was a bluff due to his cheeba stench. I have no problem with pot, only when it permeates into my apartment, and he smokes at least twice a day as far as I can smell. I of course told him I would call the cops on him for the noise abatement issue. At one point, he told me that I was forty years old and that I should move, funny, I've been in my apartment for over five years—I have no idea what age has to do with that, but that's beside the point, and the fact that I laughed at him at that moment didn't boost his confidence.
I'm sure his perspective is completely different, that I am an oppressive mother effer, and bothersome with my requests of him to turn down the volume. Funny thing is, I often agree that his volume isn't loud downstairs, but he doesn't seem to understand subtlety. He did mention, "like I don't hear your dog at 8AM in the morning racing around upstairs." It is true, on occasion, my dog gets excited and will run around like a bull in a china store. But, it's 8AM and he's already awake by his own admission, because he thought it prudent to tell me about his daily schedule, which he seems to have embellished upon. I sometimes hear him leave and know when he gets home. So, this oppressive mother effer isn't buying it.
That was the confrontation between the sober and the stoned. Oh, in the end, I won, he stopped playing guitar. He has since not made a peep over this weekend, I think he likes his apartment and enjoys smoking the herb, which he doesn't want to stop doing, so he's probably not going to stir this hornets nest, because if he does, mark my words, he will get stung, repeatedly.
So, at about 11:20PM I can't handle his guitar playing any longer and I get out of bed, throw on my Carhartts and shirt, head downstairs and ring his doorbell, mind you it's hovering around 30 degrees and I'm standing on the front porch waiting for him to answer the door. Two minutes go by, no answer and I head back upstairs, a bit aggravated, but tired. I walk into my bedroom and hear his guitar still so I head back downstairs and ring his doorbell again, this time I lay on the button for a three count. Finally, I hear some stirring. He answers the door glassy-eyed, wearing a baseball hat askew on his head like some thug, mind you he's White middle class. He gave me this grimace, "like great, what do you want." So, I asked him if he can stop playing his guitar so I can get some sleep and he just about explodes if it weren't for being under the influence of the cheeba, it's just pouring out of his apartment. You can see it in his eyes, he's trying to pull together information to argue with me over the appropriateness of this visit. So, his retort is, "it's eleven o'clock on a Friday and I'm trying to relax a little because I'm writing my thesis." Great, am I suppose to sympathize for him because he's choosing to work on his thesis so late in the evening, that he's stoned, or that he's trying to relax by playing guitar that's keeping me awake? Now, our leases stipulate the quiet hour is eleven PM.
A bit of back story before I continue on with the confrontation. I have, in the past, rung his doorbell a few times to ask him to either A. turn down his music or B. turn down his surround sound bass. On one occasion he stated, "It's not eleven o'clock yet." That's all well and good, but I didn't come down because it was eleven o'clock. On other occasions, I had to admit, the surround sound wasn't loud, just the sub-woofer existing in a space about 20 feet in length, which acoustically only allows me, upstairs, to hear it. So, I couldn't argue with him about the level of the volume. Also, the house we live in is a two story family home, uninsulated without a sound barrier between floors, he's obviously on the first flat and I on the second. There also exists a parking situation, he parks in the narrow single lane drive before I do, because he doesn't use his car much and when he needs to get out, he usually rings my doorbell, I go downstairs and he's just standing there assuming I can intuit what he wants. Sometimes, he's not even there, he might be at his car in the drive which I can't see when I open my door, or he's gone back in his house to get something I assume, then I just head back upstairs. So, his ability to communicate is somewhat deadened by the few brain cells that are able to get him through his MA program at SU.
Back to the confrontation of last night. As I mentioned, the quiet hour is eleven PM, and our leases stipulate that. He continues to tell me, "it's Friday and the quiet hour is midnight," which I correct him by saying, "read your lease, the quiet hour is eleven PM." Well he doesn't seem to like the fact that I'm interrupting his guitar playing relaxation time, or the fact that I know what our leases stipulate. So, he begins to get all whiny, holding a pity party and begins playing the Grad School student on a Friday night victim. He begins to tell me that I've called the cops on our neighbors for playing a video game console loudly, which is incorrect. I've called the cops on the neighbors for holding a seemingly impromptu party at 2AM waking me up from a deep sleep, which the cops were never able to make it over to suggest they turn the volume down and keep it inside. He also brings up the instances I've gone down to request him to turn down the volume, which as I stated earlier in his apartment it wasn't loud, but it was loud in my apartment.
It didn't take long for me to raise my voice, which he called me out on, and I replied that I just beat him to the punch, because his voice was also rising in volume. He suggested that I call the landlord (that wasn't going to happen at 11:30pm) and I told him if he wasn't so inconsiderate that he would turn it down and I told him to step outside, because in all honesty I was prepared to pummel him and break him clean down. I've been enduring a level of volume which is invasive and pervasive in my apartment all coming from his apartment, music, guitar playing with horrible accompanied singing, loud surround sound, loud talking, door slamming (a Grad student that doesn't know how to shut a door is really pathetic), etc. Then he said he was going to call the cops for me threatening him, which was a bluff due to his cheeba stench. I have no problem with pot, only when it permeates into my apartment, and he smokes at least twice a day as far as I can smell. I of course told him I would call the cops on him for the noise abatement issue. At one point, he told me that I was forty years old and that I should move, funny, I've been in my apartment for over five years—I have no idea what age has to do with that, but that's beside the point, and the fact that I laughed at him at that moment didn't boost his confidence.
I'm sure his perspective is completely different, that I am an oppressive mother effer, and bothersome with my requests of him to turn down the volume. Funny thing is, I often agree that his volume isn't loud downstairs, but he doesn't seem to understand subtlety. He did mention, "like I don't hear your dog at 8AM in the morning racing around upstairs." It is true, on occasion, my dog gets excited and will run around like a bull in a china store. But, it's 8AM and he's already awake by his own admission, because he thought it prudent to tell me about his daily schedule, which he seems to have embellished upon. I sometimes hear him leave and know when he gets home. So, this oppressive mother effer isn't buying it.
That was the confrontation between the sober and the stoned. Oh, in the end, I won, he stopped playing guitar. He has since not made a peep over this weekend, I think he likes his apartment and enjoys smoking the herb, which he doesn't want to stop doing, so he's probably not going to stir this hornets nest, because if he does, mark my words, he will get stung, repeatedly.
NAICA—a possible ressurection
So, I spoke with NAICA founder, Maria Colon over the past week. We discussed the current situations of our NAICA members and where most of us are in relation to NAICA and America's wonderful recession. I had mentioned my desire to maintain NAICA as a viable non-profit so we could continue our intended mission and grow intellectually and conceptually. She was all about it. Hopefully, aside from some of our financial situations we will be a federal non-profit. We are already a NY state non-profit, but due to our combined limited funds and other fiscal responsibilities, we must approach this with care and diligence. For me, I'm trying to save enough money to purchase a new system that will allow me to keep creating my video art, graphic and web design so I can maintain my client base, although it was feasible in the recent past, bills came first. Now, I am working toward purchasing that new laptop, or if I'm lucky a MacPro or 27-inch iMac QuadPro, if I'm lucky. This will allow me to continue my work, and be able to contribute regularly to NAICA.
NAICA is looking to expand, not to lock ourselves down to the Native American/Indigenous North America or US populations, we'd like to include the other continental Indigenous populations in our coverage and evolve in other directions that allow us to continue to provide our unique perspective and spotlight art that doesn't only exist at film festivals of 8 hours away.
So, keep an eye on the Internet and NAICA's rebirth of cool, not that it died, only seemingly hibernated. We will be working harder to receive funding so we can reach our goals, mission and evolve in a super hybrid cyborg-like organization.
NAICA is looking to expand, not to lock ourselves down to the Native American/Indigenous North America or US populations, we'd like to include the other continental Indigenous populations in our coverage and evolve in other directions that allow us to continue to provide our unique perspective and spotlight art that doesn't only exist at film festivals of 8 hours away.
So, keep an eye on the Internet and NAICA's rebirth of cool, not that it died, only seemingly hibernated. We will be working harder to receive funding so we can reach our goals, mission and evolve in a super hybrid cyborg-like organization.
12.02.2009
Googlebating, no self-deprecation here
Well thank you TJ! Now that you've educated me on googlebating, somehow after 39 years, I missed out on using that verbage for a significant period of time. A coworker was reading my earlier blog, Terrance KINDOFABIGDEAL Houle and inquired as to what exactly googlebating is/was, so I stood there looking over their shoulder, peering while they themselves googlebated. I'm not quite sure what the requisite etiquette is when one is in the presence of someone googlebating, but I didn't look away. Actually, I couldn't help but not avert my eyes as they performed this force majeure. It was like passing a car accident and not being able to look away from the aftermath of twisted metal, gnarled flesh, and blood-soaked asphalt. At this moment I became a spectator, a voyeur, witnessing a feverish symphony of self-discovery; all the more drawn in by the sheer visceral frenzy transpiring in front of me.
Eventually another coworker walked by as we were discussing googlebating and my friend inquired of them if they googlebated, a confused, somewhat guilty look appeared on their face. The guilty party questioned us as to what that meant, and we prodded a bit further, "What do you think it means." Their reply was, "When you google someone." As we corrected them, they countered, "No, not really." To wit, they have, in the past, but they haven't done so recently . . . or at least they aren't telling.
All the while a fellow coworker sitting near our conversation was in semi-hysterics over the discussion being had, making that particular party guilty of knowing and googlebating themselves.
So, my advice is to find someone you know of an older persuasion and inquire of them if they googlebate. Do it with the straightest face you can muster, preferably to someone that isn't so Internet savvy, maybe a parent or better yet, a grandparent. And, make it a practice to googlebate once a week at the least. Googlebating, it's good for you!
Eventually another coworker walked by as we were discussing googlebating and my friend inquired of them if they googlebated, a confused, somewhat guilty look appeared on their face. The guilty party questioned us as to what that meant, and we prodded a bit further, "What do you think it means." Their reply was, "When you google someone." As we corrected them, they countered, "No, not really." To wit, they have, in the past, but they haven't done so recently . . . or at least they aren't telling.
All the while a fellow coworker sitting near our conversation was in semi-hysterics over the discussion being had, making that particular party guilty of knowing and googlebating themselves.
So, my advice is to find someone you know of an older persuasion and inquire of them if they googlebate. Do it with the straightest face you can muster, preferably to someone that isn't so Internet savvy, maybe a parent or better yet, a grandparent. And, make it a practice to googlebate once a week at the least. Googlebating, it's good for you!
Terrance KINDOFABIGDEAL Houle
Okay, this is really only me promoting my friend and fellow interdisciplinary media artist, Terrance TJ Houle, from the Blood Tribe in Canada, to learn more about him here is his site: terrancehoule.com, or you can just google him, go ahead he won't mind, actually he likes to be googled, he thinks it's dirty!
He also googlebates (TJ's word not mine—oh but you know I'm gonna use it), who of us doesn't? I googlebated earlier at work, and no one is the wiser. It's so fulfilling, and satisfying, I just might do it again, but I better clear my history so it's a clean go 'round. I actually found that poorly written bad review by googlebating, the first post here, the Sandee Moore, self-proclaimed, "Inter-Media Artist." She eats gingerbread houses that are "human-sized" and calls it a performance . . . please it took her six days to eat it and it was 1/4 "human-size." I could eat it in two days, now that's a performance. TJ wants to know what an "Inter-Media" artist is, as do I. She must make tons of bank working in tv, radio, cinema, internet, print, et cetera, as an "Inter-Media" artist—she really means multi-media, but prefers to use the anachronistic term, which really didn't see a rise in usage, academically or otherwise. Go ahead, google it. I'll wait for you.
I digressed. Okay, so if you're in the Calgary area 01.09.10, check this out:
Fortunately, we have the ability to instance message one another on occasion, that's of course when he isn't busy creating work and I'm not bogged down in the drudgery of my "digital media specialist" position at my grown-up job. Although that job has afforded me the opportunity to earn bank so I can travel on occasion, not to mention the editing suite I maintain and the tools therein.
So, why am I babbling you might ask? Terrance and I are coming to a town near you, we are about to blowup and spread the theatrics of Indigeneity upon all who are near, or at least one of us will. Well, for the most part that's Terrance. He's been a great friend encouraging me to seek funding and residencies, and encouraging me to visit Germany . . . 2010 look out.
Just check out Terrance's work and watch out for him, I hear he likes to punch the moose knuckle when people wear spandex, so all you spandex clad fools better be faster than TJ, otherwise, POW, he'll sock you one right in the moose knuckle.
He also googlebates (TJ's word not mine—oh but you know I'm gonna use it), who of us doesn't? I googlebated earlier at work, and no one is the wiser. It's so fulfilling, and satisfying, I just might do it again, but I better clear my history so it's a clean go 'round. I actually found that poorly written bad review by googlebating, the first post here, the Sandee Moore, self-proclaimed, "Inter-Media Artist." She eats gingerbread houses that are "human-sized" and calls it a performance . . . please it took her six days to eat it and it was 1/4 "human-size." I could eat it in two days, now that's a performance. TJ wants to know what an "Inter-Media" artist is, as do I. She must make tons of bank working in tv, radio, cinema, internet, print, et cetera, as an "Inter-Media" artist—she really means multi-media, but prefers to use the anachronistic term, which really didn't see a rise in usage, academically or otherwise. Go ahead, google it. I'll wait for you.
I digressed. Okay, so if you're in the Calgary area 01.09.10, check this out:
The High Performance Rodeo presentsSo, I have been trying to solicit TJ's wonderfully humorous and satirical assistance in a feature length documentary, but funding opportunities are turning up dry, another rejection from the All Roads Film Project which if I had received funding from them it would have covered travel costs bringing the internationally known TJ to the US for us to collaborate on the documentary, he with his witty and cutting skills as a performance artist conducting interviews and me with my cinematography, directing and editing prowess. Now we are hoping to be able to collaborate on this documentary if funding, somehow, "rears it's head."
Grandstand Night 3
Matt Masters with Terrance Houle
Monsters, aliens, cowboys and . . . indie bands? For the third consecutive year, the Rodeo rocks to the tune of Grandstand, where Calgary’s hottest musicians team with visual artists to create an unforgettable collage of sound and film. This time ‘round, they pay tribute to the movie magic of cult films, bringing life to the silver screen by mixing film clips and soundtracks with original music in a genre-tastic re-imagination of cinematic classics.
Fortunately, we have the ability to instance message one another on occasion, that's of course when he isn't busy creating work and I'm not bogged down in the drudgery of my "digital media specialist" position at my grown-up job. Although that job has afforded me the opportunity to earn bank so I can travel on occasion, not to mention the editing suite I maintain and the tools therein.
So, why am I babbling you might ask? Terrance and I are coming to a town near you, we are about to blowup and spread the theatrics of Indigeneity upon all who are near, or at least one of us will. Well, for the most part that's Terrance. He's been a great friend encouraging me to seek funding and residencies, and encouraging me to visit Germany . . . 2010 look out.
Just check out Terrance's work and watch out for him, I hear he likes to punch the moose knuckle when people wear spandex, so all you spandex clad fools better be faster than TJ, otherwise, POW, he'll sock you one right in the moose knuckle.
12.01.2009
NAICA—the remnants of a wonderful online world
I received an email from my good friend about a website we were involved with, NAICA online (NAICA), which is an acronym for Native American Indigenous Cinema and Arts. Apparently someone is interested in replicating the content and idea behind this wonderfully constructed and conceptually based online site.
The sad part of this situation is the particular individual interested in practically duplicating what once was done, and completely funded by those involved is an educated person teaching at the university level, but seemingly incapable of conceptualizing a blog style site centered on Indigenous Arts.
Now, we never received funding of any kind in constructing the site, although, we as a group—and almost a complete non-profit entity—did receive discounts at film festivals so we could provide our unique brand of coverage. My friend wasn't happy that someone would contact them and ask for assistance when they were going to replicate the site in a university classroom environment, and I told them they have every right to be unhappy.
What irritates me, as probably does my friend, is they asked for our contact list of individuals that we worked tirelessly obtaining through creating trusting relationships over time, enduring various film festivals to meet and request interviews from individuals, cold calling and emailing people regarding their work. It's rather aggravatingly apparent this individual has no comprehension of what it takes to utilize web-based technology, let alone create a blog where one would interview an individual to utilize the content online.
Why do some people jump in before testing the waters? You might suggest that they are contacting my friend for assistance, so actually they are testing the waters. Au contraire. Assistance is one thing when you are coding html and cannot figure out how to center a "div" tag once you've coded the CSS. But it's an entirely different creature when you ask of an organization, that faded out way before its time, to provide their coveted contact list so you can virtually duplicate what we had to stop doing because we had to earn a living and time was too precious and too little for us to forge ahead.
What is obvious is that someone wants to recreate what we have already done—the majority of which my friend lost countless hours of sleep, time and money over. Sure that's flattering, but it's also insulting to contact the founder to request information that was entrusted to our organization, as well as, for the most part, ask how we did it—that shows lack of effort and capability on the part of the individual and it makes me question how they got to the university level to teach.
The sad part of this situation is the particular individual interested in practically duplicating what once was done, and completely funded by those involved is an educated person teaching at the university level, but seemingly incapable of conceptualizing a blog style site centered on Indigenous Arts.
Now, we never received funding of any kind in constructing the site, although, we as a group—and almost a complete non-profit entity—did receive discounts at film festivals so we could provide our unique brand of coverage. My friend wasn't happy that someone would contact them and ask for assistance when they were going to replicate the site in a university classroom environment, and I told them they have every right to be unhappy.
What irritates me, as probably does my friend, is they asked for our contact list of individuals that we worked tirelessly obtaining through creating trusting relationships over time, enduring various film festivals to meet and request interviews from individuals, cold calling and emailing people regarding their work. It's rather aggravatingly apparent this individual has no comprehension of what it takes to utilize web-based technology, let alone create a blog where one would interview an individual to utilize the content online.
Why do some people jump in before testing the waters? You might suggest that they are contacting my friend for assistance, so actually they are testing the waters. Au contraire. Assistance is one thing when you are coding html and cannot figure out how to center a "div" tag once you've coded the CSS. But it's an entirely different creature when you ask of an organization, that faded out way before its time, to provide their coveted contact list so you can virtually duplicate what we had to stop doing because we had to earn a living and time was too precious and too little for us to forge ahead.
What is obvious is that someone wants to recreate what we have already done—the majority of which my friend lost countless hours of sleep, time and money over. Sure that's flattering, but it's also insulting to contact the founder to request information that was entrusted to our organization, as well as, for the most part, ask how we did it—that shows lack of effort and capability on the part of the individual and it makes me question how they got to the university level to teach.
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