striking

For his first real assignment for Art School, Middle had to shoot film. Which is to say: real film. Old school film, which is purchased and developed by the foot.



It was a nifty little camera which made a wonderful whirring sound when it was running.

But, when one borrows a state-of-the-art film camera from Fancy Pants Art School, one also gets a lighting package and batteries. The batteries of which I speak are two very large belt-like things with batteries that are just smaller than a car battery built into them.



They weigh a lot too, as does the camera in its case and the lighting kit.
We brought the Jeep into town on Tuesday, so Middle could pick all of it up and take it home. He brought the gear down to K's office in a taxi, with his crew, and shot for a while.



Then we lugged it to the car.

Middle shot all day yesterday (though he seems prudent when it comes to "burning film") and then set the lights for a shoot in the kitchen while I made dinner.



He taught me to not look at the lights when he turned them on.
On a film set a gaffer shouts striking so the actors don't look at the lights when they go on.
I stirred pasta and chopped broccoli and did my best to be nonplussed.



Everyone should have an opportunity to see their kitchen lit for film.
It's an eye opening experience.



I need to repaint the entire first floor of my home.




Today we lug it all back.