Month: January 2017

Upon reviewing the interview footage one thing was clear above all else; Mr Huang had a fan. It wasn’t overbearing, but it was certainly present in the footage, and I thank my lucky skittles that it didn’t oscillate. Getting rid of it was pretty simple, but it limits our choices on editing as we now have to put in some form of atmosphere behind every clip using an interview. Won’t be fun, won’t be quick, probably won’t end up destroying the project. I’m going to reconstruct the market sounds based on some clips we got that are pretty clean, We’ll probably have to treat it like we conducted the interview in the market.

Megs friend has agreed to supply us with some music and boy howdy is it a doozy. Depending on how long the video goes we may use all three pieces to set tone, but I definitely have a leaning towards the soft, lazy, piano opening as Mr Huang describes his day. I’ve been popping in and out of the edit suites to make sure all the clips are ready and logged, and that we’re in a good place to make use of the resources we have left. At time of writing there is perhaps one last day of shooting available to us, which means that the next week is going to be spent filling in the gaps, perhaps storyboarding the remaining required shots while putting together a rough cut.

We’ve also completely transcribed the interview clips; having 4 mandarin speakers cut down the time required for the activity massively, leaving us sprawled over 4 edit bays as I processed audio, Lydia and Denise transcribed half the interview, Jenny and Even translated the other half, and Meg started on what will become our rough cut. I’ve got a good feeling about where this is going for us

Perhaps Mr Huang is feeling his age more profoundly than we had previously thought. This week he rescheduled our interview that had been set for Wednesday, citing a need to visit the hospital. While I do not doubt the legitimacy of this reasoning, I feared that there was more to this than he was letting on; namely that he wasn’t feeling the doco vibe as enthusiastically as we’d thought. He later sent a text message about how he wasn’t the best fit for the assignment; that we might be better off interviewing his family or someone who works with him. This message I passed on to jenny and even, and we talked to Rohan about how to sort it out.

Considering how much rested on securing Mr Huangs involvement, Jenny and Even approached him with a considered, professional manner and explained our situation to him. He changed his mind and we were able to reschedule to the following monday. It would be just Me, Even and Jenny conducting the interview. This wasn’t quite to my satisfaction as I don’t believe having a large physical presence in a room with a skittish interview subject is optimal, but we had to make sure the footage came out alright.

We’ve also got a pretty good handle on the log sheet.

So far, this is the plan.

Mr Huang is a man with an indomitable spirit. At the age of 76 he can be found with a cigarette on his lip and a pallet of produce in his wiry grasp. Originally from Guangdong, Mr Huang takes us through a day in the life of one who is beginning to feel the weight of his years.

To capture this, our doco opens in the early of Melbourne’s inner-city, capturing the brief calm moments before the chaos. We’ll see the sleeping giant rouse itself as stall after stall opens. A Prelap of Mr Huang proudly introducing us to his wares ease us into the place of the market. He introduces us to his co-workers, one of which offers a commentary on Mr Huang. We then see him sitting at home, responding to the comments made by co-worker which have been rephrased as a question.

He’ll starts to talk about his past, and how he first arrived in Australia. This is done over b-roll of early photos of him and his family as they grow up. He indicates the people in the picture by name, also pointing out where they currently are.

We segue by way of the aforementioned introductions to another co-worker, this time a younger family member, who explains the issues the family faces. They also begin to talk about Mr Huang, and introduce potential conflict to Mr Huang’s involvement in the stall. We’ll bring this up with Mr Huang, who explains the origin of this issue, as well as how he hopes the situation will resolve, if it does.

We gave the pitch along these lines, and I believe it was relatively successful.

“Everybody comes here with a dream, and after about 4-6 months they find out that the dream doesn’t fit. The smart ones change the dream, and they’re the ones that stay here. The ones that try to make this place fit their dream usually don’t stick around.”

Couldn’t find skittles. All hope is lost. Tim Cresswells work is quite poignant, and offers less of a counter-to and more of a companion to Parag Khanna; it offers the human side to the logistical. As part of an assignment we were meant to view a documentary through the lens of the writings and draw connections between them. As a gaffe I settled on a doco on people so far removed from the global supply chain they had to build their own houses.

Life Off Grid is a documentary featuring the lives of people who live almost entirely self-sufficiently, building their houses, generating their fuel, and in some cases, their food. Filmed in the idyllic northern reaches of Canada, it features some of the hardiest folks a life of self-sufficiency can offer. As a result of their selected hardships, they have developed a sort of ‘us and them’ mentality separate from their nation of birth; forming their own region (Cresswell, 239). They present their own ‘anti-southern’ sentiments, each to their own varying degree and extent. A defining part of this is the fact that some of the people are getting more involved in ‘grid society’ than others. Where some make their living digging holes in the frozen wasteland to fish, others are taking up day jobs in the towns and cities, slowly reintegrating and losing their sense of place. This is compounded when the subject reveals that they may eventually give up their house so they might enjoy the benefits of living with supplied electricity and water. Most of the people featured in the documentary don’t come from a family line rooted in the area; rather they migrated to the regions themselves hoping to start afresh. This is important in that the area is undeveloped; the people moving there have little culture or tradition to maintain and instead elect to create their own.

Perhaps this provides an alternative to the example Cresswell puts forth using Karen Till’s writings on Rancho Santo Margarito in Orange County (Cresswell 230; rather than create their place through false tradition and culture, they instead seek to separate themselves as far as they can from it. Indeed, the ‘Off-Gridders’ have more in common with the protestors against gentrification that Reid and Smith note. Indeed, many of the outlying settlers speak of their communities laws preventing the settlement of smaller parcels of land;  as a way of defending themselves against the ‘yuppies’ that might encroach on their version of life. In this way, they can hold their version of place, yet at the same time maintain that which makes their parcels of land their ‘place’.

Consider Daniel, of British Columbia. Where Cresswell would say that Architects design building, it is, in fact, Daniel that develops his; yet, in the end, Daniel becomes the architect of his own place. From here we find a source of irony when Daniel states that he believes that most people’s houses are fantasies; where everyone is slowly and definitively creating the home of their fantasy. Implicit in this statement is the idea that he is not. Cresswell, however, would state that he has already created his own ‘place’. Indeed, one can detect a tone of pride from Daniel that he may be unaware that he projects. When he continues by saying that he believes that this is ridiculous, perhaps it comes from a sense that he has, in fact, completed his fantasy. For the rest of the documentary, this meaning of completion tinges the work. Every interviewee herein can be viewed through the lens of self-satisfaction- when a subject talks about their usage of resources in comparison to those who use fossil fuels, or resources ‘from the grid’, you get the idea that they aren’t taking into account the smoke released from their own wood powered heating systems. After all, it is easier to make theory level statements about home from the position of someone who has one (Cresswell, 201). From this foothold Cresswell’s statement that ‘Place does not come from a factory or as finished products’ (Cresswell 199) makes far more sense.

These are people who have achieved a sense of wholeness within their domicile; When one speaks of the people of the south, they speak from a place of thinking that their place, despite its obvious flaws and rough edges, is their own. While it may not come from a factory or from a place where the edges are hewn off, it is theirs. Their derision of those ‘on the grid’, therefore, must come from the standing that ‘their’ (the ‘gridders) houses originate from a mass produced, sterile place. The entire conflict, as a result, isn’t of whether or not someone develops their own resources, but whether or not they developed their own home. Cresswell doesn’t believe that this is where one should obtain a sense of place, however. In his presentation of the story of Mhay (Cresswell 201), Cresswell states that it is the little touches that matter.

This week we were meant to do observations of the market; walk around and see who catches our eye. The first time I went I left all my equipment at home and just explored, taking in the different people and their mannerisms. In the end I came up with 2 or 3 people who genuinely intrigued me. I visited the stall at around 5:30AM, and the majority of the produce section were already set up. It appeared like the majority of the people in the stalls were older, in their 50s-60s. The younger members of the stalls make the trip from the van to stall, while some have forklifts bring their goods to the booth directly. As the clock wound up to six, there was a flurry of activity as the majority of owners arrive and open, yet there was still a relaxed, jovial mood purveying the shed. The first of the customers arrived, lazily strolling from place to place as the various vibrant vegetables peak their interest, while the merchants shouted small trivialities to each other as means of greeting.

An older lady sits behind her table of greens, shorter than the stack of lettuce in front of her, but with a slow, carefree lurch serves the occasional shopper that floats her way. She is on the side furthest from the city, and it shows as the day goes on.

A Husky, majestically bearded fellow wears a yellow jacket with a black printed ‘security’ on it. He strolls from truck to truck, making idle conversation with the incoming traffic and guiding the suppliers to their destinations. Not once does his smile waver.

A young, bald and tattooed man of his mid-20s drives a forklift with practised ease. He, and those of his trade, create a unique discord with those they assist; where the merchants work calmly and methodically, He and his ilk operate with rapid pace, yelling at the merchants whose wares have arrived with nowhere to put them.

The three I have mentioned seem to be from three different generations, and as such have three vastly distinct perspectives on the comings and goings of the Victoria Market. The senior trader brings a wizened, more considered look at the day and its predecessors. The Forklift operator might give a less invested look at the history of the market and instead develop a clearer picture of its future; after all, his is a job of connections and delivery, and as such will have an idea of how the market runs from day to day. The same, however, could be said of the security guard; as a middleman, he has a clear view of the relationships between the stores and their suppliers, and therefore could speak to the stability of the market.

I later revisited the market with my camera around my neck. While I left the lens cap off I didn’t intend to take any pictures; this was more about seeing what I could get away with around different people. The older lady warily stared at the camera as I passed, despite talking to a customer. I didn’t have to ask to know she wasn’t having it. The security guard, likewise, wasn’t interested, but it seemed like his objection came from his employment, not a personal distaste. When I walked past him his manner switched from the previously smiling conversationalist to one of distracted concern. I continued on my way so as to avoid a rebuke. I couldn’t find the forklift operator I had seen previously.

I strayed into the vegan/egg area out of frustration (poached eggs are a comfort food for me, and on this particular day I had not indulged myself in a meal aside from the regular coffee). Despite my proximity to the market I’m not a regular visitor, so I figured I’d see if I could get bacon, coffee, and maybe some cheese first. The bacon I bought from a man who intrigued me with the weight he seemed to levarage on his shoulders; he walked with a hunch that spoke to years of rugged resistance to the fatigue that comes with constant hard physical labour, yet his face seemed to sing a song of kindness and joy. He too seemed wary of the camera, but I think he’d be worth pushing to get something.

From here I would usually head straight to the egg stall, but the coffee was wearing off. The path through the market to get coffee lead me through past a flower stall, and it is here I met Stuart. Leaning against a tree with a relaxed slouch he spoke with a clarity and confidence that seemed out of place amongst the rest of the market. I marked him as someone to follow in future

The x200 isn’t a camera I’ve used previously; I’ve used it’s distant cousins and younger entry level friends but I haven’t actually used the x200 itself. For the most part the camera followed the same structure and build as the others I’ve used, Multiple control centers for the zoom and recording functions, rings on the lens to control focus, zoom and aperture, and a clean HDMI out. Sadly I don’t think we’ll be getting much use out of that.

The camera itself is a solid thing, personally I don’t like the way it carries but I don’t think we’ll be doing so much hand-held with it. I’ll check one out myself to get some practice with it. I still feel more comfortable using my D800, and I’ll probably stick with that for the time being. There’s something to be said towards knowing how to set white balance quickly and comfortably, and I struggle with that on the x200.

We went on a remote location activity to get establishing shots of the market. Our group was pretty efficient as a few of us had been to the market multiple times at this point. We got a couple of cars travelling beside the market to set a somewhat mid-day vibe for the shots, and tried to get a couple of people entering or leaving the market with varying degrees of success. Definitely prefer my DSLR to the XDCam

After checking out the camera I began to play with its capabilities. Funnily enough there isn’t much in the way of online tutorials for the camera; most of what you find online are reviews or functional videos which don’t do much in the way of instruction. One facet I’ll have to explore in future is the NFC/WIFI options that the camera comes with; apparently white balance can be set remotely, as can the record and zoom functions. This was released in a firmware update, so I’ll have to wait and see how that actually works.

We were also given the reading of Tim Cresswell’s ‘Place’, a book which from the introduction offers a nice counter narrative to that of Parag Khannas ‘Connectography’. I shall read it over cheap wine and skittles.

The Interview with Stuart was a disappointment. I blame the lack of skittles and a presumed character that the real person could not fit. Rather than work for the stall as I’d believed, Stuart works for himself; he’s the sole distributor of an international brand of energy drinks, neither of which contain the same list of ingredients as their international counter-parts. He’s the same well spoken, charismatic man I’d seen in the market, however, and with the right treatment there is a lot of potential in his story; both in the way he tells it and the way it tells him. I think we can make something interesting out of the way he floats through life, pivoting from interest to interest while maintaining a drive to succeed. We could also talk about how he met his wife, how they grew together and how they came to share philosophies. Or we could talk on his business, and how he hopes to grow it over the next few years.

Regrettably, however, none of the above meet the brief. There is no ‘place’ for him; he’s a mobile person by necessity and he doesn’t really tie into the market. As cool as it would be to follow him, with Rohans advice I have dropped him as a subject. The day after the interview with stuart I went with Jenny and Even to the market to approach the elderly man they had seen previously. The guy was absolutely adorable, and seemed open to filming and being interviewed, so we politely let him know that we would return with the full crew and set up a proper time frame. Mr Huang, as we found out his name was, speaks only cantonese and mandarin. So it only makes sense that Jenny or Even takes lead on any future correspondence with him.

We sorted into groups, and I decided to go with Jenny and Even. Joining us were Lydia and Denise (two mandarin speakers) and Meg. This gives the group a comical level of versatility; it’s almost impossible for us to split up so as to not have a mandarin speaker in the group. On top of this we have a good mid-level range of skills between us; seeing as we’re all starting at the same level there is almost no reason for us to not be able to assist each other.

Me and Meg went to the market to try and get some nice morning observational footage; getting there at the ripe early time of 5:30 (again) I began to get some shots, and had been set up for maybe 4 minutes before the security guard I had been interested in came up and informed me that I wasn’t able to film without a permit. Being the strong, independant person I was I puffed out my chest, stood my ground, and packed up my gear cause that was too much, man.

At around 6 Meg showed up, and we went to talk to the supervisor on site, who agreed to let us film for the rest of the morning, but if we wanted to return we had to bring a proper permit. This result was only really possible through Megs fantastic interpersonal skills. We got some good footage of the stall setting up, but I had not checked to see how high the gain was set, and the result was footage with more grain than a plain in ukraine.

Week 3