Driven down from The Heights and cast out from a community of academics, over-achievers and esteemed members of the creative class, the people who would later become known as the People of The Willows sought refuge on the rocky western slope that faced The River.

A resilient ad hoc tribe of recyclers, tinkerers, bricklayers, petty thieves, banjo players and dock workers, the people of The Willows immediately took up the task of community building.

Though the slope’s inhospitable terrain offered little encouragement for the establishment of suitable habitation, the land proved itself to be surprisingly malleable.

The newly arrived refugees cleared brush and gathered stones to create the slightly uneven streets that we see today. They forged homes from a wide variety of architectural philosophies and planted community gardens on rooftops and in alleys, cultivating crops of succotash, brussel sprouts, sugar beets, cress and yellow carrots, while also making room for small patches of undomesticated grasses from which to feed the seventeen goats, some of whom occasionally roam The Willows’ narrow streets.

Within a short period of time, the first general store appeared, followed by a bicycle repair shop and a seltzer water dispensary (which doubled as a package delivery service). Not long afterwards, the first cast iron streetlamps were installed.

With a natural disregard for authority, The Willows has neither a school nor a police precinct. Instead, children are either home-schooled or left to their own devices, while low-level “criminal” activity is often overlooked, unless the people of The Willows deem a grievance too grotesque to accept, in which case they will police themselves.

Though the people of The Willows are loosely organized and non-hierarchal in structure, there are many characters who distinguish themselves from the others.

Amongst them:

JEBEDIAH: a bearded man with thick glasses, whose gait suggests a perpetual discomfort with his seemingly ill-fitted boxer shorts, he has made it his routine to check in on his fellow Willow people as he monitors the progress of the emerging village. Much of his day is spent visiting shops and gathering places along the two streets that make up the heart of The Willows. Though he has no dwelling to call his own, he is always welcome in the other homes of the community, and so Jebediah never lacks a place to sleep.

DESDEMONA: regardless of the weather, she is never observed without her high-collared coat, of which she has many, thus no one alive has ever set eyes upon her neck and collarbone. Her hair is kept short, with a feathery tuft of grey in front, and she favors leather work boots. She provides legal services for the people of The Willows, using most of her working hours to petition the regional chamber of commerce, as well as the city government, to recognize the legitimacy of the property claims coming from The Willows, while also promoting the cultural legacy that is currently being fostered in The Willows. On most afternoons during her lunch repast, she can be seen working on the exterior upkeep of her house on Willow Place.

DORIS: it is her life’s ambition to document, preserve, promote and perpetuate the beauty of the willow trees that give her people their namesake. Especially enamored of the willow branch in springtime, during its tantalizingly short interlude before the pods unveil their April bloom, she creates vast works of art based on them, including oversized daguerreotypes, acid etchings and intentionally crude lithographs. Easily recognized by her proclivity towards woolen shawls and jeans, she is often found by the stand of willow trees near the formerly unimpeded Furman Street – the last group of virgin willows in the county.

SIMEON: a former fireman (well, it should be noted that he was admitted to the Brooklyn Heights Fire Department’s Training Program but failed to appear for three out of the first five sessions and was thus summarily dismissed), he now works at The Willows Social Services office, advising residents about the finer details of passport applications, out of state driver’s license tests, and correspondence school programs. Always dressed in a denim camouflage jacket and a ski hat, when he is not holding court at his place of business, Simeon regularly finds himself at the end of the bar at the Weeping Willow Public House, where from he enjoys extolling the virtues of home slaughtering – that is, the slaughtering of livestock for human consumption performed in the privacy of one’s own home.

JENNY: were one to stroll through the district of The Willows, one would never “see” Jenny, yet her presence is everywhere. Many of the woolen hats, shawls, scarves, gloves, leg warmers, blankets and small rugs are made by Jenny – proudly articulating her enthusiasm for colors such as turquoise and violet – thus helping to cement the nickname that outsiders have bestowed upon The People of The Willows: the “Purple Pirates.”

The casual observer might note that well over half of all of the knitted winter hats on display on the streets of The Willows are made by Jenny’s hand. Furthermore, during the more frigid months, the goats are often seen wearing warming jackets, also made by Jenny.

To say that all of these objects are hand-made is perhaps misleading, because Jenny actually produces many of her works through the help of an enormous loom, which occupies almost all of her living room.

Excruciatingly agoraphobic, Jenny pins her finished works on a clothes line, which she lowers to street level through an elaborate series of mechanical pulleys and levers, which then enables her fellow residents to more easily preview and select an item. When a resident chooses one, he or she replaces the item with an envelope that contains coins and bills. Customers decide for themselves how much they will pay, though if Jenny determines that they’ve offered too little, the undervalued item has a mysterious habit of disappearing from its new owner – frequently within a few days of the initial transaction. In its place, one would find a handwritten note, which states very simply: “not enough.” Once restitution has been made, the item is returned, often under the cloak of night.

RICARDO: a Norwegian transplant christened with the name of Ole Rikard, Ricardo arrived in The Willows after a stormy life at sea. It is rumored that he has fathered fourteen children, for on a few occasions, a child of mixed ethnicity who bears a striking resemblance to the wide-eyed, blonde-topped Ricardo, will be seen surveying the streets, as if looking for a lost keepsake. Should Ricardo catch sight of such an inquisitor, he will hurriedly duck into the Weeping Willow Public House or the Last Journey Café – depending on which end of the street he finds himself.

Though forever intermittently employed and always just short of cash, Ricardo is nonetheless a popular figure amongst the People of The Willows. He wows locals with his feats of strength, often challenging outsiders to arm-wrestling matches and staring contests. To this day, he remains undefeated.

It has been said that Desdemona once openly speculated what might happen should Ricardo ever face a challenge from one of the children he has cast-off, in the event that they ever return to The Willows as adults. A topic such as this provides ample fodder for late afternoon conversations when Ricardo is beyond earshot.

GEORGINA is often found seated on the front steps of an unoccupied corner shop, which since her arrival, has been re-dubbed as “Georgina’s.” She rarely moves from this spot, entertaining guests and passers-by with her impressively broad tastes in danceable music, which she shares by virtue of a portable music machine that has been connected to a set of amplifiers. On occasion, Georgina will take out a battered steel-plated slack guitar and strum along.

Though she is well read and tells tales from the far corners of the globe, no one in The Willows can recall a time when Georgina was ever absent from her stoop for more than half a day.

A lover of homemade chocolates, she typically offers one of these hand-crafted morsels to anyone willing to bring her a cup of her favorite triple-roasted Yemenite coffee from the Iris Café located on the middle of the block.

Georgina’s celebrity was greatly enhanced when it was discovered that she is one of the few residents who has ever stepped foot inside of Jenny’s lair. She has personally testified to the enormity of Jenny’s loom and, when dark sentiments get the better of the locals, is rumored to be one of Jenny’s henchmen. However, when the late winter sunshine casts its golden glow upon Georgina’s cherubic cheekbones, it is hard to conceive of her as anything else but a bon vivant, albeit a lazy one at that.

BENJAMIN: In truth, Benjamin has no business being amongst the People of The Willows, for he is over-qualified and earns far too great an income, yet he counts himself as one of them. A writer and cultural critic by trade, he spends almost all of his daylight hours locked away in the back room of his dimly lit railroad flat, keeping exclusive company with a quartet of exceptionally well-behaved cats. In the early evening hours, he will make his presence known at the Weeping Willow Public House, seated at a booth with a gin martini while reading through theater reviews from foreign newspapers.

On most evenings, he will travel to The Island to preview gallery installations in advance of their formal opening. He’ll then make a second appearance at the Public House back in The Willows, where, with the assistance of two glasses of Sazerac, he’ll fulfill his socializing needs before retiring to his apartment and four cats.

… TO BE CONTINUED

put together by The Willows Preservation Society and written by Christian Svanes Kolding

what is the islate trying to be? is it really going to bring about a new wave of innovation, as many predict?

is it an iphone on steroids? or is it a smaller, more useful version of the macbook air? or is it a kindle-crusher because it can do more?

from what i can tell, the islate will incorporate many aspects of the iphone, using a similarly designed interface and many of the iphone’s core functions. furthermore, it will look like a larger iphone but will boast the computing power of a macbook. it may have some additional functions, like being useful as a tablet (so that one can use a stylus on its interface – which i would welcome) and i’ve heard that it’s going to be useful for teleconferencing. great. built-in camera too. maybe it will be good for games as well – bigger screen than the iphone, feels more substantial… nice. and, i suppose, it will also be a nifty e-reader, which is one of its core selling points.

in terms of size, it will be thin like a kindle, and about ten inches across, right?

are people really going to carry around with them their iphone, their MBP and their islate? three devices that do many of the same things? that seems a bit silly. who would carry around all three, especially all the time? when you travel long haul, will you have all three with you? when you commute?

perhaps one takes it completely for granted that consumers will happily haul around all three but i’m not so sure.

does anyone today carry around a kindle, a laptop and a phone? anyone outside of the social media vortex?

if not, then which device gets fired? which one becomes less significant? it would seem like one of the three needs to go.

one can’t get rid of the iphone because it’s small and handy and works kinda nicely as a phone… if i ditched the iphone, would i carry around this tablet-device as a de facto phone, propping it on my shoulder like a boom box while i had voice conversations? (i mean, if i was walking and talking, where else would it go? i can’t hold it front of me and talk into it, i’d bump into things… so, i’d want the speaker by my ear… oh great, headphones)

i don’t know if i’d get rid of the laptop, because i’m used to sitting down at a desk, doing work with a keyboard and my stylus, and it’s pretty darn portable so that i can work anywhere… but not so portable that i’d take it out on the subway and work on something…. besides, isn’t the iphone there for just that kind of need?

so, where does that leave the islate?

it will be the third device that i leave at the office, and when i want to do a show and tell, i might grab it… and if i want to take notes in a meeting, i might grab it… maybe i’ll take it with me to lunch, which i wouldn’t do with the laptop (i’d read magazines just like in the mag+ video by the berg boys)…. but when i go home at night, i think i’d take the laptop over the islate… that’s my guess. i wouldn’t lug around all three…

i’d leave the islate behind because if i left the laptop behind, then what’s the use of keeping a laptop around? might as well get a desktop then.

now, if the islate can be set into a keyboard (like the old palm pilots were top mounted onto an external keyboard – which looked really funny but i loved them…) then, i suspect that it’s the laptop that becomes a bit clunky and less useful.

i might be overlooking something substantial, but the arrival of the islate reminds me a bit of that skit by eddie izzard in regards to the spanish inquisition. cake or death? nobody wants death, but choosing cake isn’t really getting to the heart of the issue.

for as long as i can remember, i’ve told stories to friends and conspired to find new ways to share these stories. as a kid, i created plays with puppets, then discovered the video camera, exchanging the makeshift stage for an actual location, i’ve used friends as actors, in order to fulfill an obsession with creating skits and short stories.

i eventually found my way into the film business and worked for many years as a production designer, most of them while living in copenhagen.

i invested a lot of energy into production designing, throwing myself into intense periods of research for the feature films that i designed. i viewed environments as characters, and just as a writer might create a back story for a character, i too created back stories for each environment.

in some ways, my approach to the work was like being a detective as well as a student of the human condition.

it shouldn’t have been surprising that i designed films that were steeped in psychology. from a professional point of view, the quiet  intense thriller seemed to be the genre that suited me best.

during this time, i started to develop as a director, feeding my curiosity with stories that i created for my own projects. while working full-time as a production designer for commercials and feature films, i directed a number of short films and music videos on the side. much to my satisfaction, i discovered that there was an audience for these projects, as films that i directed were accepted into a number of international film festivals.

directing is a lot more fun that production designing. the types of collaborations are fundamentally different and i would discover that directing is a lot easier too.

while everybody who works on a film has an obligation to serve the ambitions of the script, a production designer has to juggle more responsibilities and obligations than a director. a production designer has more masters to serve in a working environment in which there is also a lot more ambiguity. i found that few decisions for a production designer were clear-cut. choices were often somewhere between painful and less painful. once the periods of research and pre-production are over, the production designer becomes a task master and a diplomat who manages a wide variety of personalities, while doing the best that one can to stave off disaster in the face of inevitable surprises and chaos.

a director is also a manager, but, in my experience, the choices have always been easier to make, even when there are constraints. as a director, the focus is entirely on the ideas put forth by the script as well as the collaborators. even though both the director and the production designer endeavor to find the best possible expression for the narrative, for some reason, it has always been easier for me to manage this as a director.

then came the move to los angeles, and with that, after thirteen years in the business, i saw an opportunity to shift my focus away from production design and onto directing.

while my directing projects in copenhagen have mostly been works of fiction, the projects that i would work on in california would all be documentary in nature.

i made a number of small films, while it took almost a year to land that first paid gig as a director here in the united states. i was asked to direct a documentary project as part of a team that was working on IBM’s smarter planet campaign. it was a very rich experience that lasted several months.

the project came to its natural conclusion and, shortly thereafter came the move to new york.

and since then, i’ve enjoyed the process of directing and collaborating so much that i’m always looking for new ways to continue this.

the book can be previewed and purchased here.

Open

selections from a b…

By Christian Svanes …

book preview

and more information, such as additional pictures, is available here.

if you are an independent filmmaker without the backing from a major studio, the distribution landscape looks very different today than it did just a few years back.

in order to respond to these changes, should filmmakers examine and draw inspirations from the leading role that some musicians play in today’s music industry? even more so, should filmmakers look to how museums and other cultural institutions have survived in order to develop new approaches to film financing?

BACK TO BASICS

i tend to believe that the best way to get your film out there is to start with a good product. that is, at the very least, a filmmaker has to produce a unique piece of work of exceptional quality, and that doing so starts with the manuscript. the script is the most important building block to a film that will ultimately generate revenue and open doors.

in terms of production costs, i think that there are many compelling reasons for filmmakers to create films which correspond to their budget and accept these constraints as a benefit. the films “old joy” and “wendy and lucy” are really good examples of this. these two films make the most with what (limited) means they have at their disposal and have done quite well. others filmmakers would benefit from adopting a similar approach.

DISTRIBUTION THEN AND NOW

once you’ve made a film that has a compelling story and is assembled by maximizing its budget and constraints, the film needs to be put into circulation. as many have noted, a few years ago, most films with at least some sort of backing found distribution via a theatrical release or dvd-distribution, or even the support of netflix. at the same time, independent films found some inroads via netflix, and a few operators were even able to secure a limited theatrical release for their films. today, most films will be shown online, either as their primary mode of distribution or as an important supporting aspect of the film’s general release.

the benefits of online distribution are many and widely publicized (for one, it levels the playing field, somewhat, between major studios and tiny independent distributors) but the drawbacks are also significant, primarily that films tend to quickly lose their monetary value, especially if unauthorized versions of the film are distributed for free. major studios are fighting the unauthorized distribution, and, in time, major online distributors like youtube will also have to fight it. this is primarily because of the costs of maintaining bandwidth that increases with so much demand, which means that youtube will eventually be compelled to re-think their revenue models because they won’t be able to afford to keep it free… but we haven’t reached that point yet.

for now, the argument about films that are available online is why pay for something if you can get it for free?

this is especially true for independent films and even more so for short films.

in such an environment, how are filmmakers (as well as film producers) going to make money from their work, let alone recoup their investment?

GIVE IT AWAY

there’s a compelling argument making the rounds right now that films, just like music and other works of online art, should be given away for free.

chris anderson is one proponent of this discussion, which he recently re-formulated in his book, aptly titled “free: the future of a radical price” (found here – it’s also reviewed in the july 6, 2009 new yorker).

i want to draw some connections between chris anderson’s notion of free and an article connecting anderson to recent trends in the music industry, because there seem to be some obvious parallels between music distribution and film distribution.

over at wired, the aforementioned article connects chris anderson with trent reznor, who supports the idea of giving away much of his music for free.

the gist of the article concludes that artists would best serve their interests if they make their primary products available at no cost to the consumer (like radiohead and nine inch nails have done) but in this process, in which they build up loyalty amongst their fans (consumers), they will have a market that will be very interested in purchasing customized, personalized, or rare and hard to find products or artifacts from the artist.

this is where the artist will make their money.

i’m wondering if this would apply for film? it smells a little bit like a bait and switch. is it?

of course, as of september 2009, the reality is that musicians make most of their money from touring and merchandising, which, as of today, does not apply to filmmakers, but i’ll come back to that later.

for music, i can kind of see how this notion of free would work. an artist releases an album for free, but charges for rare commodities such as earlier versions of certain songs, songs that never made it for release, documentary footage of the artist at work, to very personal things like certain touring mementos or even more personal / rare items (like what amanda palmer of the dresden dolls has done recently, such as selling off old love letters and items of clothing that she’s had for years)….

in fact, while the artist imogen heap (an innovator, or at least an early adaptor, when it comes to music distribution and cultivating fan support via her acumen for social media) just released her new album via conventional means (itunes and cd distribution), she has also invested, and continues to invest, a lot of time and energy into releasing the following items at a premium price: a limited edition vinyl version of the album with artwork that comes with some sort of pass to be used for special features at upcoming concerts; hand-crafted videos where the artist offers insights and introductions to each track on the album; the same album with instrumentals track only; and, perhaps six months after the album release, there’ll be a special edition dvd which compiles many of the previously mentioned special editions, to name a few.

can filmmakers do this? is this a viable model? what are we talking about?

IF IT’S GOOD FOR THE MUSIC INDUSTRY, IS IT GOOD FOR THE FILM INDUSTRY?

should filmmakers create special limited edition versions of their films? should filmmakers charge fans for the director’s insights on the film (which, generally speaking, appear as an extra feature on the dvd or the film’s website – for free)?

should filmmakers release “unfinished” versions of their films, at a price, so that fans can remix the film or add their own score? and, like imogen heap, should filmmakers stagger the release of these so-called rarities to maximize demand?

or have i missed the point?

i have no problem with giving some things away for free, and, in the process of creating every film, there are always discards and ideas and darlings that never make it to the final cut – yet are these the items that “fans” will later covet?

if i was a fan of a particular film or director, it would seem that one of the few things which would be very desirable to obtain from filmmakers is something that filmmakers have so little of themselves: TIME (i.e. the user experience of spending time with the project’s creator). musicians do this right now. for someone like imogen heap, it has become a part of her travel and performance schedule to spend time with her fans, who are, in many ways, her direct benefactors.

filmmakers can give away their time to spend with their followers / fans / supporters in a variety of ways. the producer ted hope (adventureland, american splendor, the savages, happiness, the ice storm) does so by way of his blog over at truly free film. that said, i can quickly see how that might also lead to a glut on the market (a whole lot of directors and producers all of sudden ready to give away their time…)

which brings me back to the reality of the music industry. as i mentioned, most musicians make most of their money by touring and the merchandising that comes with touring, and this seems to apply to well-established musicians as well as much lesser known acts.

should filmmakers do this?

should filmmakers hit the road with their film tucked under the arm?

why not?

what if more filmmakers no longer aspired to release their film on a national scale and instead, cultivated an online following while touring the country with their film, visiting cinemas for one or two night events? there, they’d make themselves available afterwards for q & a, sell merchandise related to the film, create an event out of it, perhaps with live music or some sort of community fundraising built in, and then move on to the next town.

didn’t the documentary film beautiful losers do something like this? and, in some ways, the cinema tuesdays events at the montalban in los angeles, which are put on by flux, seem to tap into a similar spirit… and here, the events are always free of charge.

IF IT WORKS FOR THE MUSEUMS, WILL IT WORK FOR FILM?

the merchandising approach could be similar to how museums manage it. filmmakers would be advised to take a look at the way museums have staked their financial survival for the future.

the museums have the right model, as a friend of mine points out, by linking the user experience that is associated with the headlining exhibit with the retail experience. museums emphasize their merchandising over their admissions fee – though, in most cases, the admissions fees are varied and priced according to demand. frequently, the merchandise on offer is directly related to the exhibit, is relatively rare in number, and only available for a limited period of time. this makes the merchandise that much more desirable.

so, while the product is not free, it is relatively low cost, and it is the souvenirs from the experience that will cost the consumer a lot more. in this case, the product is the user experience, available at a relatively low cost through the price of admission, but the souvenirs from the experience is where the museum (and hopefully the artist/exhibitors) will make some of their money.

i’ve always found this particular retail experience to be somewhat distasteful – though, i guess, as others have pointed out, if this is the way that museums need to survive, then i will support that. will the same work for film?

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MUSIC AND FILM

of course, a very significant difference between the two industries is the cost of production. while it is true that both the costs of producing music as well as producing film has been significantly reduced over the years, there’s no comparison between the two. it is still far more expensive to make film and therefore, compared to the start-up musician, there is still a huge mountain of expenses that a film needs to recover before a filmmaker can even generate a profit on his or her project.

as long as this is the case, then filmmakers will be reluctant to give away their product for free.

but what if there is no other way?

LO-FI VERSUS HI-FI

would filmmakers consider releasing a low-resolution version of their film for free while charging for the HD version?

this could be achieved through a variety of means, notably, via wireless handheld media as well as via services like Apple TV.

. . . . . .

that’s all i have for now. there’s much to consider while i take a breather…

to be continued….

note: the thoughts above are part of an ongoing discussion that i’ve been having with a number of friends and colleagues, who have made valuable contributions, without which i would not have been able to put together this piece. this document represents the first effort to consolidate all of these thoughts. thanks!

“before i was twenty, i mean, i used to think that life was a thing that kept gaining impetus. it would get richer and deeper each year. you kept learning more, getting wiser, having more insight, going further into the truth – ” she hesitated.

he laughed abruptly. “and now you know it’s not like that. right? it’s more like smoking a cigarette. the first few puffs it tastes wonderful, and you don’t even think of its ever being used up. then you begin taking it for granted. suddenly you realize it’s nearly burned down to the end. and that’s when you’re conscious of the bitter taste.”

– paul bowles, the sheltering sky