A revised version of David Bowie’s Space Oddity, recorded by Commander Chris Hadfield on board the International Space Station.
At Adobe MAX 2013, Adobe engineers got a chance to demonstrate their latest projects. Nick Bryan demonstrates how they’re working on a process to automate the separation of audio tracks.
Because we’re all up to our necks with “free work”
Professional Film Crew with pro gear looking to work for free (Bay Area)
We are a pro team of 10. We all have masters degrees and have Emmy and academy nominations. We have a sound stage, arri Alexa, over 100 zeis lenses, and over $250,000 work of production gear. We just want to stay busy and are willing to work for free for the following perks:
- To add to and diversify our reels
- free pizza
- to build relationships
- the possibility of growing a relationship
We believe these reasons are far more important than paying our bills or feeding our children. Frankly we think its more important to help you with your zero budget project than it is to have a value put on our work. We love seeing “No pay” jobs here because really it’s about art, not money right? If our award winning team can help you with your zero budget masterpiece, please let us know. Email at Payyourfuckingcreworsuckadick @ yougetwhatyoupayfor.com
See you at the Oscars!
Via DIY Photography
Saul Bass is a much celebrated graphic designer who was responsible for many of the title sequences during the 50s and 60s. For Vertigo, Bass wanted to create perfect mathematically defined spirals and he turned to a computerized gun controller, working with collaborator John Whitney to create what was one of the first computer aided graphics in film history.
For the title sequence to Vertigo, Hitchcock had an additional, often unnoted, collaborator: John Whitney. A pioneer of computer animation who worked in television in the 50s and 60s and in the 70s created some of the first digital art, Whitney was hired to complete the seemingly impossible task of turning Bass’s complicated designs for Vertigo into moving pictures. A mechanism was needed that could plot the shapes that Bass wanted, which were based on graphs of parametric equations by 19th mathematician Jules Lissajous; plotting them precisely, as opposed to drawing them freehand, required that the motion of a pendulum be linked to motion of an animation stand, but no animation stand at the time could modulate continuous motion without its interior wiring becoming tangled.
To solve this problem, Whitney made use of an enormous, obsolete military computer called the M5 gun director. The M5 was used during World War II to aim anti-aircraft cannons at moving targets. It took five men to operate it on the battlefield, each inputting one variable, such as the altitude of the incoming plane, its velocity, etc.
Rhizome | Read the Full Article
We all have those moments of lucid creativity – of having that perfect idea for a movie. Thing is a movie isn’t just one idea – it’s a collection of ideas and you’ll never know how one inspiration can find itself combining with another. So you may want to try creating a Spark File – a way of reminding yourself of flashes of inspiration you have over time.
The Spark File, Steven Johnson describes, is a process/tool that he uses to collect “half-baked ideas” and then revisit them. For eight years, he’s maintained a single document with notes and ideas with zero organization or taxonomy, simply a chronology of thoughts. He calls this document his Spark File.
I’ve adopted this process for the last 30 days and it’s had a remarkable effect. The most astounding part is how often I find myself writing the same thing in different ways. I’ve taken that pattern as a clue to explore a concept further, and see if it merits more investigation.
Life Hacker | Read the Full Article
J.J. Abrams sits down with BAFTA Guru to talk filmmaking, recognizes that he does use a lot of lens flares, and talks about how it’s “more important to learn what to make movies about, than how to make movies.”
In Star Wars (or Episode IV if you want to be like that), Luke Skywalker spends the first 15 minutes whining about his misfortune for having been born on Tatooine. He can’t go to Beggar’s Canyon to shoot womp rats with pals because he has to work his uncle’s moisture farm. Then he has to clean the new droids before suffering through a perfunctory family meal that ends in a storm-out, his ego bruised and dreams momentarily crushed.
Of course, fate (or destiny, in Lucas’s lexicon) would provide Luke with an escape. The cost would be tragic, and the 17-year old Jedi-to-be would never see his home again. Neither would the filmmakers. Lucas and his crew left the Lars Homestead set to rot after filming wrapped more than 35 years ago. In that time, the domed shell of the homestead sat unprotected from the desert winds, its location known to only a few locals. That is, until recently, when Luke’s erstwhile home was rediscovered by New York-based photographer Rä di Martino.
She found it by accident, she tells Co. Design. A few years ago, when Di Martino was working on a project on the Chott El Jerid, a salt lake in Tunisia, she was scanning the site on Google Earth. “I saw a tourist photo on Google Earth of a ruin used for the Star Wars films that was attached to the location.” She tracked the structure to somewhere near Tozeur, an oasis city in the country’s central region close to the Algerian border.
Fast Co Design | Read the Full Article
Quentin Tarantino’s “Django Unchained” was re-released in China after censors made changes to the film to meet the country’s strict standards. Seth Doane of CBS Newsreports.
Doug Richardson recounts the day he had to let go of the agent that got him his start in the screenwriting business.
I think I was twenty-five years old. Pretty young to have come to the conclusion that the man who’d helped me cross over the threshold into showbiz had to be shown the proverbial exit. My career was showing some lift and it was already painfully clear that the sweet old agent wasn’t going to be able to help me get any further down the road. It was time for me to move on. If only it were as easy as merely saying it. I’d been raised not to shy away from responsibility. To meet uncomfortable situations without ducking or passing the buck. A man needed to do what a man had to do. Thusly, I resolved to put on my big-boy pants and sack Harry Bloom.
A little back story first. Just three years earlier, I was a kid with an armful of scripts, tires so bald the steel belts were showing, and couch-surfing from San Diego to Los Angeles and anywhere else I could steal some power to plug in my salmon-red IBM Selectric II. Then Harry Bloom, this old time MCA agent and his assistant-slash-better-half read my stuff and signed me on to his dwindling client roster. In no time he was sending me into producers’ offices where I could pitch out my stories like some clueless nabob. In one of those rooms was a former studio boss who thought he saw a glimmer of talent and signed me to be his exclusive pet scribbler. What followed was a parking space at Warner Brothers, a converted office supply closet for an office, and a two-year paid education in the picture business. If I was grateful then, I’m even more so today.
Unfortunately, I had some contract issues. Conflicts over payments and exclusivity. Eventually, it became clear to me that dear Harry Bloom was cowed by the studio and my assigned producer. For over a year I watched him do little more than lob unreturned phone calls over the studio wall in hopes that one day they might get a secretarial return. If I was to move ahead in the game without getting squished, I needed stronger representation. Harry had to go.
Doug Richardson | Read the Full Article