Hi Girls, Miss Me?

Writing a screenplay can be as fun as painting a picture. While distinct similarities exists between the two, my brain seems to be working from a different place while I'm writing dialogue. In both cases I'm painting a picture. I'm using words to paint dialogue, hoping to find some rhythm and texture just as I would when applying oils to a canvas. But the process, the brain activity, seems to be different. I cannot explain it. I'm not a brain specialist. I love doing both, writing and painting, and they are great compliments to one another. Both are creative practices, apparently exercising different parts of the brain.

Below is an excerpt from a screenplay I'm writing. It is fun to do this kind of thing after a week of painting in the studio. It's all about expressing what it means to be human.

(Excerpt from a current screenplay...)

INT. LAUREL GROVE HIGH SCHOOL, BOY’S RESTROOM, DAY

Brando is staring into the mirror of the restroom. He has a bloody nose.

SAM

                          You okay? Your nose looks crooked.

BRANDO

                           It hurts like shit. But I’ll survive. That prick was lucky. I didn’t see him.

SAM

                          Why do you put up with it? Why don’t you beat his ass?

BRANDO

                          He’s the size of a buffalo. I wouldn’t have a chance. He would break more than my      
                          nose.

SAM

                          If you don’t do something he’ll keep it up. I’ve been picked on my whole life. I’ve
                          gotten used to it. But you. You can do something about it. Your dad’s the sheriff for
                          God’s sake!

BRANDO

                          So...you want me to run to daddy. Is that it? I’d rather get beat up.

SAM

                          Your Dad would throw him in jail.

BRANDO

                          But then what? I’d look like an idiot. Running to Dad to fix my problems. My dad        
                          already thinks I’m a pussy.

At that moment the bathroom door opens and Satchel walks in. He’s tall, well-built, but still has baby fat around the waist and chin. His hair is long and messy, like he just got out of bed. He’s laughing to himself. He notices Sam and Brando in front of the sink and mirror. They both turn as he walks in.

SATCHEL

                          Hi, girls. Miss me?

Last Week of Class at AAU

It's been fun, but the long road to a master's degree in fine art at the Academy of Art in San Francisco is coming to a dead end this week. My last Group Directed Study class with Jacob Dhein and other grad students at the Chestnut location was yesterday. All of us were tired and ready for the semester to end. We were told to bring three paintings for a final critique, but I just couldn't do it. Instead I chose to bring one painting and a study from a Malcolm Liepke painting.

My copy of a Malcolm Liepke painting.

"I'm just so tired at looking at these paintings," I said. "You all have seen them. I've done nothing to them since the last time you saw them." It seemed like overkill to bring the same final thesis paintings for another "final critique" to this class. I had shown the same paintings the week before in my Final Thesis critique.

 I told my class and Jacob, "At some point. you just have to move on."

The process was weird, the steps I went through the final weeks before graduation. The commencement ceremony came first (I did not attend), followed by a Final Thesis critique. Then another final critique in GDS class yesterday. Tomorrow I have one last class in Professional Practices before I'm done.

So, for my final class in Group Directed Study I brought  in one painting, "The Priest." I also brought in a study I have been working on, a copy of a painting by Malcolm Liepke.

"The Priest", 30x30, oil on canvas. Made the visit to my last GDS class for a  "final critique."