hi everyone! :)
i'm so honoured & excited to be a part of the team of resident curators for the site, as a video & text curator. i'm champing at the bit to support & encourage the incredibly talented writers, video-makers & remixers on hitRECord.
here's a little video i put together to introduce myself & tell you a bit about what i'm planning to do.
Stop Motion & Icon: IrmaVep
Music by: TheTenant & TheBoxSets
Key Illustrations: xobreexo23
I think how you put on a duvet cover says a lot about you. I mean, first up you have the bolshy types who turn it inside out & pull it over their head, before grabbing the duvet and turning the cover back the right way round. They’re the not-afraid-to-get-their-hands-dirty folk who don't fear going head first into a situation, quite literally in these circumstances. Thinking outside the box while inside the covers. Creative problem-solvers. And, well, then you have the people who just crawl right on inside to get the job done and I’m pretty sure that has disasterous consequences most of the time - worst case scenario is suffocating for the clumsiest (and I’m sure it’s happened) - though I must say I admire their gumption.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the people who shuffle it in a little at a time, feeding it in a bit then shuffling, feeding, shuffling more, all the while wriggling it around a bit to get it just into the right place. Cautious types. Methodical. They probably write to-do lists and never go overdrawn. And they also probably get all snarky at the unruly no-holds-barred just-shove-it-in-and-button-it-up people. Not really my kind of folk either. The do first and think later types. They’re the ones who phone into work on Monday mornings with hangovers. Plus, people who don’t understand the luxury of a well-made bed baffle me senseless.
As for me, I’m a four corners kind of girl. What that means is I wrangle in just enough duvet to reach the four corners of the cover, then I hold onto them for dear life and shake shake shake until all the rest of the duvet gets straightened out. And I suppose that shows that I like to get the very important stuff sorted and in position, then create a bit of chaos and watch the rest fall into place. It’s fool proof, works every time. Unless you’re a little too vigorous on your shaking, of course, and that’s when corners get dropped and you have to drag it all out & start again. And sometimes once you’ve shaken the duvet, you realise you had the duvet twisted in the middle all along. And you have to pull apart the poppers again and switch around the bottom two corners. Or, worse, you then twist the bottom corners the wrong way again getting a double twist and then you have to re-configure for a second time. And, well, sometimes you just have to sit down on your half-made bed, blow your matted hair out of your hot red-cheeked face and call a friend to come and help. Cause sometimes you've just got to have a friend on standby when you’re doing the important things in life, like making sure your duvet cover goes on in just the right way.
Audio & Story: MadisenMusic (& Gabrielle)
Images: Kimshuttle & tori
A long time ago, I had this idea for how to animate "Skip & the Turtle" by MadisenMusic, but I didn't have the time to complete it. Well, finally, a year later - here it is. :)
I’m in the bath staring down at the scar on my knee, the ugly reminder of the tumble I took on the way to my work’s Christmas party in the middle of December. I was running late, I wasn’t really looking where I was going & I was wearing a pair of ridiculous high-heeled shoes, the only pair I own, the only pair I’ve ever owned. I can’t walk in heels, but there seems to be this societal understanding that a girl who can’t walk in high heels is some sort of failure, so I bring them out to make myself a little more camouflaged at unbearable things like work Christmas parties. I didn’t really know where the party was and I guess that the moment I spotted the venue, I stopped watching where I was going, and I caught my foot on an uneven paving slab. For a moment, I’m doing a slow motion dance - I actually feel a little graceful trying to find my balance but I can see people throw out their arms at me & even though I feel like I might find my footing, they obviously see that I’m going down.
I fall on my knees and they instantly sting but I force myself not to think about them. There are five strangers standing over me trying to help me up and I’m embarrassed, not at the humiliation of my fall, but at giving them cause to step outside of their lives to take care of me. I remember that. I remember not being embarrassed at falling, though I was annoyed at myself, for wearing the heels and for not looking where I was going. I thank all the people profusely. I distinctly have the image of the three girls walking towards me just as I begin to fall, their mouths open and the middle of the three diving for me. She grabbed my arms just as my knees hit the ground. I thank them in amazement because there were five strangers near me when I fell and every single one of them stopped to check that I was okay.
I get up quicker than I would have done if there was no one there, hurry inside to the party just as they announce my name to collect my Secret Santa present. I haven’t even had time to take my coat or bag off or greet anyone. My knees are really stinging by this point and I go up to collect the gift, wondering if my right knee is bleeding, whether there’s a hole in my leggings. I take off my coat, ask for directions to the toilets and the chief executive stops me to comment that she likes my shoes. I remember that she said the same thing last year. I remember that I wore the exact same thing last year. I remember that Adam and I ballroom danced on an empty dancefloor to Fairytale in New York last year. I’d already kicked off my shoes and I danced an irish jig around him during the instrumental part in the middle.
When I get to the toilets, I check my knee and it’s bleeding quite badly. I dab at it, but I’m pretty useless, so I wash my face, apply some lipstick and head out and order a double whiskey. The night wears on, I do two rounds of karaoke, singing Fairytale in New York as loudly and obnoxiously as possible, wishing Adam was there to dance an irish jig around, before getting a taxi home, feeling drunk and unfestive.
Almost three months later, the scar is still there and I think about the lack of resilience that my body has, its inability to heal, which spurs me on to check the bruise on the knuckle I trapped in the door last week and the cut on my foot. Next I check how much my fingernails have grown recently, and then think about how long my hair feels, wet and stuck to the middle of my back. It’s the longest it’s ever been in ten years and in terrible condition. I think about how ungainly I feel, how I’m suffering my third bout of flu this winter, even though i’ve been taking multivitamins and cod liver oil. The tips of my fingers are starting to wrinkle from being in the water for too long. I take out the plug and reach for my towel. I stand in front of the mirror and stare at the blurry version of myself in the condensation. I can’t even make out my features no matter how long I stare at my face and the bathroom tiles are cold under my feet.
INT. HOME - DAY
An ALARM CLOCK goes off. We see a montage of a man, GRAHAM, getting up & excitedly going about his morning routine as he gets ready & goes to work.
Do you ever feel like a salmon? Wait, hear me out.
So, there are all these fish: trout, cod, haddock,
rainbow trout - - uh, what were the ones in Finding
Nemo? Anyway, there's all these fish just going with
the flow, making their way sensibly down the river.
Then there's you, the stubborn little salmon forcing
your way upstream against the current, like an idiot.
Mondays make me feel like a salmon. Fridays too, but
mostly Mondays. On Mondays I'm a happy go lucky
salmon, and by the weekend I'm not usually feeling
so upbeat anymore. Perhaps it's all that swimming.
INT. OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
GRAHAM arrives at work. Head up, he strides past a bunch of people who look miserable at a slow pace. He greets the receptionist, MARGARET. She has a mountain of coffee cups already forming at the corner of her desk.
Morning, Margaret! Lovely day, isn't it?
Margaret just looks at him sourly as he walks past. He goes up in the lift to his floor and sits down in his cubicle. The office is drab, his colleagues all look grey and beleaguered. He looks across to the adjacent empty cubicle and audibly takes a deep breath. He looks at the clock, then his watch, then the clock again.
POLLY is standing at the entrance to his cubicle.
Hey Polly! How was your weekend?
Quiet, but that's the way I like it. How about you?
Same. Pretty quiet in all. Thanks for asking.
Polly sits down at her cubicle across from his. He leans over towards her.
Polly? Do you ever feel like a salmon?
Polly laughs and copies him in leaning back.
A salmon? Like the fish?
Yeah, like the fish. Hear me out…
Their boss, CLIVE, appears and stands between them facing GRAHAM. They both lean back again into their cubicles.
You two! If I have to discipline you for talking again, I'll do it.
And it won't just be a rap on the knuckles this time. It's 9:05
and you haven't even got your computers on yet. Polly, for god's
sake, you've still got your coat on. Get to work!
They both face forward and turn on their computers. Clive wanders off. The just audible sounds of him telling off someone else can be heard in the background.
He looks up & across to her.
How did you know?
How did I know what?
Polly unzips her coat quickly to reveal she's wearing a salmon pink jumper with sequins on it.
That I feel like a salmon! It was the first thing
I thought when I put this on this morning!
Graham tries not to laugh out loud. Polly pulls the collar over her mouth and let's out a quiet laugh into the inside of her jumper.
CLIVE (Off screen)
I can still hear you.
They stop laughing instantly and face their computers again.
INT. MEETING ROOM - DAY
Graham is at the front of the room giving a presentation to a group of people all sat around a table in the middle of the room. At the back of the room, there is a large window.
…So, as you can see, figures suggest we really
need to tighten our belts this month or… or...
Graham loses his train of thought as he sees Polly animatedly pretending to swim past the window with her salmon pink jumper on.
EXT. GRASS OUTSIDE THE OFFICE - DAY
Polly and Graham are sat on the grass with their packed lunches.
It is. Highly offensive. I'm offended.
But you're not a tuna, you're a salmon.
Us sea creatures have to stick together.
Graham takes an exaggerated big bite of his tuna sandwich.
But he was so young! Cut down in his prime!
She points emphatically at the sandwich. Everyone in the park is staring at them. Graham takes another bite of his sandwich.
Alright. I didn't like him much anyway. If
I'm honest, I always thought he was a bit fishy.
Graham groans. They grin at each other and continue eating.
INT. OFFICE - AFTERNOON
Graham and Polly are sitting at their cubicles again.
Oh, Polly? I've got this letter to post but I'm not sure if
I've got the correct postage. Do you have any scales
I could - - Oh, wait, stupid question.
Polly sticks her tongue out at him & shimmies so the sequins on her jumper twinkle under the lights.
First class or second class?
INT. OFFICE - EVENING
The office is quiet. Graham turns off his monitor while Polly is zipping up her coat.
See you tomorrow?
See you tomorrow.
Same time, different jumper!
Polly leaves. Graham smiles to himself and picks up his coat and bag.
EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE THE OFFICE - EVENING
Graham walks out of the office building just as Polly is getting into the passenger seat of a car. Her husband is driving. They hug and kiss and he drives off. Polly spots Graham and gives him a wave. He waves back and his shoulders slump once the car has driven off around a corner.
He begins the walk home. He passes a large group of people all heading into a restaurant. They all walk around him and he struggles to keep out of their way as he walks in the opposite direction. He looks back at them briefly and sombrely before continuing his walk home.
EXT. THE PROMENADE - DAY
HARRY is sitting on a bench outside the hotel. LILLIAN walks over, hesitates, then sits down next to him. He noticeably doesn’t turn to look at her.
Where’s your chaperone?
Don’t call her that. She’s just trying to be a good friend. (beat) I said
I felt faint so she’s gone back to the hotel for water.
Harry nods slowly still looking straight ahead. There’s a long pause where neither of them speak.
Are we going to talk or just stare at the ocean?
Oh, I don’t know. There doesn’t seem much to say and the ocean’s
looking pretty inviting this morning.
Please don’t be mad at me. It’s not my fault you showed up
Harry finally turns to look at Lillian.
I showed up too late? Did you ever think maybe it was you who
settled too early?
when I found katasul's "we were sailing the seas", I knew I wanted to make a makebelieve world where the little boys could sail off into dreamland in their little tin boat. (all the resources just fell into place so easily for this remix. hitRECord is a treasure trove.)