Excerpt from Artists Are Self-Absorbed

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Samantha opened the door and her mentor was already filming. That first shot, the close-up of Samantha with the 16mm camera right up in her face, her expression a mix of absolute surprise and potential betrayal, that first shot was enough to let Filmmaker A know she had definitely struck a vein.

Later, as she watched the footage in the editing suite, she was startled by the nuance and complexity of Samantha’s reactions. As she re-played it over and over again, thinking of where to cut, wondering if the most interesting thing might be to simply leave the reel in tact, dead moments and all, she found herself making a list of all the contradictory aspects of Samantha’s ‘performance’:

1) She likes being watched.

2) Being watched by a technical apparatus is a new experience for her.

3) This new experience is titillating but also suspicious.

4) Flirting with the camera. Flirting with me through the camera.

5) She has an ideological love of the new filmmaking. She is not sure if this love also means she must have an ideological hatred of the old filmmaking.

6) How to reconcile her ideology with this newfound excitement of being filmed.

7) Moments of self-questioning. Had her ideology been arrived at through a reasonable process or had she rushed into it, arrived at it rashly.

8) Questioning her mentor. If her mentor was regressing towards the old filmmaking then perhaps her mentor was bogus all along.

9) Or, on the contrary, if her mentor is endorsing the old filmmaking perhaps it is the wave of the future.

10) Is flirting with the camera valid? Should I restrain myself? Or modulate my performance in some way.

11) I think I am falling in love with her.

She watched the footage again. She had forgotten the pleasure of watching the same take over and over again, catching different aspects and shadings every time as the celluloid rolled through the flatbed.

Samantha walking from the front door towards the kitchen, glancing back over her shoulder, smiling, offering coffee or a drink, as the camera follows a few feet back, trying to keep the shot steady, to keep Samantha centred in the frame, her own voice coming patiently from off-camera:

– How long have you been doing the centre for productive compromise?

– I don’t know. A couple of years. That’s not a very interesting question. I thought you were creative.

– What would be a more interesting question?

– I don’t know. Do you want to fuck?

– All right. Do you want to fuck?

– No, not on camera. That’s boring.

Samantha making espresso at the same time pouring them both a shot of something strong, the camera panning down and over as the coffee and shot glass are placed on the table beside her, remembering how she wondered if she should drink it or concentrate on filming.

– For you excitement is important? Excitement is an important part of the new filmmaking?

– You say that like excitement is a bad thing.

– No, I don’t think that.

– Isn’t that why you’re here, in my house? Looking for excitement?

Samantha knocks back the shot and her last sip of coffee, then heads back down the hall, up the stairs, towards the bedroom as the camera follows.

– Maybe you could give us an example of how the new filmmaking works.

– You’d like an example? All right. I was lying here in bed. We had all just walked out of your lecture and I was thinking of you. I had an idea, concocted a scenario. I would phone you, give my address but not my name, lie here in bed, undress, leave the front door unlocked, see if you would come.

As she is speaking Samantha stretches out on the bed. She takes the perfect pause before she continues:

– You know the rest.



[Unfinished.]



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