Let's give a warm welcome to Video Coffee Break.

This summer Process will betaking a critical look at video art and film. I'll begin by giving a shout out to the usual suspects that were influential to me, while also opening up the discussion to include the role of women in contemporary film and television. Perfect timing: Mad Max Fury Road is on fire right now for busting through all sorts of barriers— in post (a woman editor) and on the screen.

I'm also starting a sister site on Tumblr, called appropriately, Video Coffee Break, where I'll be posting clips, links and essays daily. My intent is to have VCB function as a resource and a starting point for  those who want to discover more about the medium. A primer, of sorts. I'll also be taking submissions. More on that later.

As I get the site up and running, there might be an overlap between Process and VCB, but please check it out and follow us. And share. Sharing is always nice.

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There's been a bit of a gap since video was my main practice, so part of my process will be using this blog as a forum for thinking out loud. Have no fear, posts about painting, drawing and the mundane will still make appearances here—all in good time.

Process will be ten years old this coming fall. Ten. That's like an eternity in the blogosphere. And the fact that we're still ad-free and haven't migrated to a hipper platform after all these years is just plain lazy crazy. I've almost deleted the blog twice. Instead, I deleted the first two years of posts. It was somewhat of a compromise and there was no rhyme or reason why I left the remaining years in tact.

Nonetheless, if you've only been following along since 2005* or you're simply confused, you might be thinking, Video? WTF? I thought you were a painter. If you are checking in for the first time since 2001, you might be thinking Painter? What? So here's the deal—

In my ongoing quest for my art and life to work like a well-oiled machine,  I'm once again questioning the act of making physical art objects. I am in no way suggesting that painting is dead to me. (The middle way, remember?) I'm just reminding myself of the facts:

I publish a blog called Process. I have written statements whereas I stress the importance of the process of painting, and refer to objects as being the by-product of this act. Much of my video work is either about the process of not painting, the process of work, or the process of domestic life and relationships. I hope this is not a deal-breaker, but it's never actually been about the object, as nice as these objects can sometimes be. It's about being in the moment and finding meaning.

Of course, this insistence that process is all that matters is in direct conflict with the statement you'll read in the next paragraph where I suggest that destroying artwork is a rather ornery act negating years of thoughtful labor and the quest for meaning, and so it is.

# 1.
Back in LA, there is a storage unit packed like the proverbial sardine can with nothing but physical art objects of various sizes and their fate is weighing heavily on me. It's not like I took an oath, but I do recall one of my mantras as being, "Take care of the art and the art will take care of you." I still believe this to be true and therefore I am obligated to tend to this herculean task. For everyone who suggests destroying art is a liberating and egoless act at mid-life, I suggest you burn your house down, cash out your savings and go on a weekend bender. Hit me up afterward if you feel the same way. Meanwhile, I'm currently talking to interested parties who are helping me place some of the large pieces in collections on the west coast. Plan B is for the remainder of the works and I'm equally excited about that project.

# 2.
For those of you keeping score, I worked extensively making video art. (editor's note: back in The Day). Simultaneously, I renounced my vow of poverty by having a couple of respectable jobs in post-production during those years. When I retuned to painting, I felt guilty for ditching painting and tried to kiss and make up by sweeping my history with video art and post production under the rug. Don't judge. In hindsight, it affected a couple areas of my life somewhat negatively, and I might have chosen the middle road if I had a do-over. On the other hand, everything is just as it should be.


Meanwhile, tune in while I make amends to Video.


Don't ask why, but Ed Wood was a minor influence for this video. I believe this might have been edited on 2 VCR decks located a couple of feet apart from each other. Envision a mad scientist working in a lab. Yes, that's it. 

* Before there was Process, there was Plastic Ass, a dead tree 'zine I produced in the mid 90's.

The Art of the —

—Like crazy.

I'm always amazed at how much I can do when the wheels start turning. 

Self-Help Still Life

Years ago, my mom was going through some vacation ephemera and unearthed the above postcard. While children growing up in Manhattan had museums, I was refining my tastes on the roadside travel souvenirs found at nearly every Stuckey's located on our family vacation route. 

After re-discovering said postcard, my mother thought it appropriate to place it on the dresser in my childhood bedroom—the room where I stayed on my trips back to visit. It was an inside joke, but not about anything in particular. We laughed. The truth is always funny.

It remained there forever until recently finding it's way to a new location atop a small box where I had carefully placed unfired bullets from a gun I found in the house.

It co-existed with the bullets for no apparent reason until recently, when I decided the postcard should be in front of my monitor.

Still a sucker for souvenirs, the coffee cup was from a visit to MoMA's gift shop.

The book to the left is somehow related to all this.

Aaaaand, it's official.

Grades are in, student work has been posted, and the semester's bag of email has been archived. For the next few months I drop there term "adjunct" from my identity.

Chris Burden - The TV Commercials

Ahead of the game.

Now that I'm in a creative free-for-all with aces wild, I'm blissfully at leisure to muck around with what I was doing before I hit stride in the studio with painting. And because once upon a time, rumor had it that even a William Wegman video could be had for a modest $3000- $5000, artists like myself tended to glom onto jobs in "The Industry" as a mean of support. This was back in the dark ages before desktop editing liberated the industry from professional standards and before having an MFA meant you could recoup your tuition with your first solo show- the summer after graduating. But I digress.

So, yes, while I was making video art, I supported myself as a commercial film editor cutting commercials. Aka, advertising. Wha!!! Yep. Of course being a newly minted MFA graduate in the 90's, I also subscribed to Adbusters and deconstructed ever clip of film that crossed my Avid, because that's what I do.

This ad from 2007 is an excellent example of a short-form narrative film doing double-duty as a commercial about sustainable energy.  Eight years later, it's still fresh.

For more about this spot, go here.

Nostalgia

Back in the day...

Life goes on.

The last few weeks were particularly difficult for us. Trips to the vet, home care, and moment-by-moment analysis trying to figure out the right thing to do. The vet couldn't diagnose the new issue, we still had the old issues that weren't improving, plus there was mention of a 3rd complication. I had even looked into doggie wheelchairs but those images you see of handicap dogs romping around full-speed on a farm didn't seem to apply to us. I never want to have to make that decision again. Ever.

RIP

Guess who got fired up for shooting a guerrilla-style documentary last weekend? [Rim shot] Or Who's Your Tailor?

About a month or two ago, I had an epiphany. It coincided with a computer failure and it wasn't so much an epiphany as it was a throw-down-the-gauntlet-Howard Beale-inspired move. Long story short, I invested in an NLE system suitable for doing grass-roots documentary work and remembered I was a film editor that could cut a story. It was like coming to after a bout of amnesia and remembering I was fluent in a foreign language. So in addition to painting, I'm officially back in business as a film editor.

More on that later on, but for now, just know that I had a vision and that I stopped short of making an advent calendar leading up to last weekend's NRA convention in Nashville, Tennessee, aka Music City, USA, aka Nashvegas, aka Athens of the South, and so on.

Nashville, you may recall was dubbed the "It" city by the New York Times not too long ago. It was also listed as the second-most vibrant arts community in the United States. I'm not making this up—it ranked ahead of New York. Those losers in my former home town of Los Angeles, didn't even place in the top ten.

In fact, we are so vibrant that we welcomed the 2015 National Rifle Association with all guns blazing. We are an ethical city if nothing else. And speaking of ethical,  knowing where one's bread is buttered, I was fascinated that nearly every Republican candidate to date would be sequestered in one room at a "Leadership Panel." Realistically I knew it would be a bigger issue than I could cover solo in one down-and-dirty day of shooting, but I packed my camera and mic and did my best to grab some on-the-fly interviews and stills.

NRA program highlights included the "2nd Women's New Energy Breakfast," a "Prayer Breakfast," and an artillery of other events suitable for the entire family. And yes, I even talked to a priest packing heat. (Don't they all?)

Who needs a gun** when you can slap this calendar on your front door?  

Or better yet, put it in your daughter's bedroom so she can count the days

 until she turns into a torso. 

Adorable, no? Target practice at the "Freedom Festival."

Maybe it's just me, but, this reads a little awkward given 

what's been going down lately.

Finally...a display targeted to the cultured elite. 

For moment I thought I was at Art Basel again.

Just when I thought everyone and their mother was making an easy buck off the NRA, I saw one woman with a hand-made sign. Thank you, lady, you made a difference. 

At times it was heart-breaking and emotionally tough to witness an industry thriving on violence, paranoia, sexism, ignorance and indifference. At street level, what I gathered was that everyone feels need to protect themselves from the proverbial, "Other" or that they like to kills things as sport. As a practicing buddhist, the whole thing goes against my idea of right livelihood. I understand the economics. And that's part of the problem. 

Meanwhile, judging by the suits manning the booths inside, the real question should be, "Who's your tailor?" and "Cash or Credit?"

* * * * *

Note:

In full disclosure, the author inherited a pearl-handled .38 special with her grandfather's name engraved on the handle and has been known to hit a bulls-eye. 

So much exciting news to report.

Except it's not news. It's just exciting.