Mission Accomplished—Or at Least Begun

Here’s how it all went down, Dear Readers.  I am now going to work on the latest Gus Van Sant show as their standby painter, because they did have a budget for me, after all.  I am also assisting the lead scenic, who is away on vacation right now until the twelfth of October, so any and all questions and plans are being fielded to me by various members of the art department.

As you will remember from last week, I was about to call my union Business Agent once he had returned from his first visit to the newly-opened production office to inquire 1) whether they had a production designer (yes) and 2) whether they had an art director (yes), so I was spared the possible embarrassment of presenting myself as a candidate for either when there were other, more experienced candidates.  Whew!

I am under enough stress right now as it is, with my new flip house undergoing asbestos testing for its popcorn ceilings as well as the budgeting I am required to do for the millions of repair projects to make it saleable and “too cute to fail”.  In fact, now that I think about it, I am already doing production design for my own movie: about a house destroyed by a mysterious family of ape-like creatures with a hatred of all kitchen appliances, flooring, and working bathroom fixtures which is then rescued by a caring interior designer who wants to rehabilitate it for a new life with a loving family (of non-apes who have no desire to destroy houses for no good reason).

Anyway, so my friend went in to apply for the lead scenic position, got it, and asked if I could start the show for her while she was gone on vacation, and they said yes.  The designer wanted to meet me, which she did, last week.  It was a good meeting, held in one of the upscale boutique hotels in Portland.

As I searched for the parking garage, driving slowly past the front doors of the hotel, I saw a bevy of movie types getting into cars, probably for a location scout, all talking or texting on their Iphones or Blackberries, dressed in that certain manner which conveys the message: “I am visiting here from LA and I am very busy on this very important film project”.  My people.  It was good to see my kind, even though I’m removed from LA by a few years.  However, I suppose LA is injected within my genetic structure in many small and large ways, forever a part of my being.  I don’t mind.

The designer and I met, and I like her very much, having already been impressed by her web posting site, which she built just to convey the breadth of research she had amassed for the script’s visual components.  She even has a specific paint chosen for its color properties, something I agreed with and further was impressed by.  We talked and I showed her pictures from my portfolio on my website, during which time we were visited by the UPM, and interrupted by a phone call and text messages until it was time to head back home, to my own movie (The House with the Expensive Ceiling Repairs and Who Knows what Else) which is not directed by Guys Van Sant, but by me.

I begin working on the film next week, technically, but already I’m getting emails and calls about various projects that need attention or research and planning, so really I’m being drawn into the maelstrom right now.  That’s fine by me—I am so ready to make a movie with this group of people, and some of my favorite fellow local union brothers and sisters are filling out the main crew.  It’s going to be super cool!

Now, I haven’t met Mr. Van Sant yet, so I can’t call him, you know—“Gus”.  But it will happen, you’ll see.  By next month “Gus” and I will be on a first name basis, and I will once again be honored with the job title of “Standby Painter” for another film.  And, as I always do at this early point in the process of getting onto a film, I think about the true wonder of how, right now, I don’t have a clue as to who I will get to know on this show, but they are all up there ahead in time, my future friends and colleagues.  I will be glad to meet all of you.