Chicago Go South to St. Louis

Well, there is just so much to say, but basically many things have transpired, and now I am dreaming about starting an outdoor movie theater which sits within an urban organic garden in the heart of the San Fernando Valley. I envision benches and fruit trees instead of drive theater stalls. Perhaps a small brew pub provides great local brew, and dogs and goats run free over the property. It is all a dream. But it is an amalgamation of a road filled with daydreaming.

Check out Paolo and Lisa at the Echo Park Film Center. They had us play with making film, and their passion for each other, creativity, film, music, Los Angeles, and Life, absolutely tickled me to no end. I am so happy to be from La La Land.

We then sweat it out in Valparaiso, IN at the county fair, and I got to meet the almighty Sean "Shug" Emery (check out his hammock camping vids at shugemery). I am a big fan of his hammock camping and outdoor vids. He met up with us in our RV, and has been hands down the most animated interviewee to date. His story telling was hilarious and poignant, and I was sort of star struck. It was great to have such a candid discussion about life, the struggles and the triumphs.

We changed the course of this trip against the will of the rigid producer. We were heading to Iowa, and we duck hooked it to St. Louis for an interview with Bob Cassilly the created of the City Museum--think playground and acid flashback, rolled into what Disneyland should be, then microwave it, spit on it, and jump in the first hole you see--that is a taste of the brilliance. The encounter saw us running and climbing like Thundercats were still on the Saturday morning line up, and then heading to Bob's new project, Cementland. I climbed a 270ft tower, with no guidence or saftey net, and I got the blisters to prove it. After that we spent a few hours jumping off a rusty dock into the Mississippi River.

We have since booked it West, and are in Wyoming, but pictures and thoughts on that front will have to come retrospectively. I am tired and spinning, but I love you all.

Chicago: great city. I had a scotch 96 floors up, interviewed Ms. Ella Jenkins (a wonderful woman, filled with laughter and music), swam in Lake Michigan, snuck into the movies, and continued to make this trip authentic. The inflexibility of the producer is continuing to show its head in sad ways. I feel as if a 4-person group has formed, and most likely for another tragic time in his life, the producer has found himself on the outside. I am continuing to find strength in my voice and convictions.

As a group we stumbled across the City Museum (a recommendation from past roadtripper Calvin), and amazing art location/playground, and a possible interview with the head artist/designer. Realistically to make this work, we would have to sacrifice an interview I lined up with a bio-diesel dude in Iowa. When we approached the producer about this a few days ago, which was the impetus for another conversation about loosening up the reigns, he said that we are not allowed to cancel an interview once it is made (sighting that we were informed of this in our first skype conversation). I told him, I understand that policy, however in this situation, having talked to the dude myself, and him being a friend of a friend, I am sure I could approach this situation without any harsh feelings being incurred; the math equations in his mind were inflexible on this front. As a group we decided to see if we could land the interview with the City Museum artist, and move from there. Once we had landed that interview, I called the bio-diesel dude, and he was in fact relieved with the change in plans. He said that he had been sort of sweating the situation, and that there were no hard feelings. He in fact said that I could stop by any time that I was back in his neck of the woods. When I informed el jefe, of our group move without his consent, he offered up the following analogy: When someone is married they make a commitment through thick and thin, and they don't just break their vows when they see something nicer/more interesting that comes along. I agree with his comment about marriage, but I told him that I do not find this to be analogous to this situation. The name of Roadtrip Nation is not marked negatively as a result of this choice, and the canceled interviewee does not feel like a cheated on wife. Although I see the importance of keeping our commitments, I also see the need to allow the group dynamic and collective inspiration to inform our common sense and ability to make things happen. The interview we have just locked down is something interesting and invigorating to the team, and I was willing to sacrifice my individual interview for the sake of the team--it feels good to have built that bond, in which the collective We (The Royal We), has been inspired to seek out an interview and to augment the path of this trip. Although I have been the one to voice this act of dissent, I am not pulling strings or acting alone--this was truly a group decision.

So it goes...

NYC and Philly

Starting to realize that my distaste for this camera thing is due to an individual's style, not the inherent nature of the show.

Thought: When they invite people to be apart of this process, they should invite them to spend the first three days in Costa Mesa at their headquarters. Those first days should be about engaging the "cast members" in a dialogue about what it takes to be apart of this production: what the aims of the company are, what the series is used for, how the cameras and footage are captured and processed, and so on. I feel like this would bring the "roadtrippers" into the group more, and give them a greater sense of agency in the creation of the trip; make them a fellow artist, instead of just a canvas or piece of pastel, in the hands of others.

In NYC (Brooklyn Heights, specifically): we met a sweet man by the name of George Davis. We had arrived late in the evening, and were searching for a laundromat. Mr. Davis stumbled into our conversation, while exiting from the CVS, and asked us what our plight was. He replied, "Well the only laundromat I know is in my house, that is I have my own machine." After a slight pause, he continued with, "would you all like to come up and use it?" Stunned by this act of humanity, we all sat silent for a brief moment, and then unanimously responded, "YES!".

George had a lovely apartment which smelled of moth balls and menthol. He had a burgandy velvet wrap around couch, which made the large wooden floors and white walls, seem like they were all old friends. Their were old books and pictures scattered across a built in book shelf. He lead us to the laundry machine, and set us up with detergent. He set the timer on, showed us the remote control for the tv, handed us coronas, and told us to not bother him for the next hour, he would be out when the buzzer went off (He said it in a sarcastic tone, which really said, "Welcome to my home, I enjoy you here, and godspeed.").

George popped back in an hour, and he had switched to his night time attire: shorts and old white t-shirt. It was sucha beautiful little gesture of love and compassion. We asked George if we could return in the morning to talk with him before he went off to work. We took down his favorite type of bagel and his coffee preference.

Next morning, though we had two other interviews lined up, we arose extra early, and headed to Montague Bagels and got George his poppy seed bagel, untoasted with butter, and his coffee with milk (not half & half), and two Sweet & Low's. We went to his apartment on Henry Street, road the elevator up to the 5th floor with the attendant. Once in his apartment, and after the morning formalities, we sat down in his livingroom. We had brought our little hadn held camera, and left the spectacle back in the RV. George told us that he was 78, had lived in that apartment for over thirty years, and that he still worked five days a week on Wall Street as a Stock Broker. He reads two newspapers a day (The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal, though he never reads the Sunday version of the former, as it is, "Too heavy"). He told us about his three daughters, and his house out at the beach, which goes to every weekend. He talked about his routines, and his friends who are 15 years younger than him, and they in turn keep him young. He said he let us into his house, because we seemed like good presentable young people, and then he dropped, with a slight smile, "I honestly think that I got more out of this than you all did". His eye seemed to glow with a wisdom that knew that at his age it was the connection to perhaps the unknown, the youthful, the random which would make that morning stroll to work a little brisker, a little different, and he delighted in it.

Thus far, this experience has been the most monumental in my mind and heart. I feel inspired to be old and still have the heart and confidence to embrace the unknown.

New York also gave us a great candid interview with Nat Pynter of Charity Water: an English Major turned Engineer at 28, now 39 and loving life. He was so articulate and present. I loved the conversation.

I got a chance to hang out with good ole Shimmy Boyle a few times. We had a great evening sipping Jameson on the Rocks, and rambling the zoo that is Brooklyn. Subways, reflections and realizations, street art and people watching, danced about my psyche.

Sweet lips and under the table hand grabs with the wild mystery of the night--life is something of a song, when you chose to sing along.

One man behind the camera, has increasingly become a human being, while the other, still struggles to let life live and exist without twisting its will to meet the prefabricated notions in his mind. I promise you, that the good fight will and should be fought with vigor and truth.

Pictures:

So the Final Chapter Begins

Note: I am typing this on the RV on the highway, and I am feeling queasy, so there will be no editing for typos---bare with me.

So I have let this blog go. AS life dealt me many cards at once, the need to socially, verbally, and visually document the happenings of my life, faded into the background. However, now I find myself on the road engaged in the drama, bullshit, and magic of being the subject of a reality television series called Roadtrip Nation. This will be a dumping ground for not only a photo collection of the road, my thoughts and reflections from the interviews conducted and the experiences embraced, but an analytical and impassioned deconstruction of the hollow tomb that is forced social documentation.

(This is where it starts and what it looks like.)

I applied to be apart of this show back in December, and three days after my father's passing, I was informed that I would be a member of three man team. I was excited to have a project to work on in the wake of my life taking on a new chapter and meaning. The program would sponsor our (two other individuals) travel across the USA in a 35ft RV, on a 40 day 4500+ mi trip from Maine to California. In that time we would individually and collectively line up interviews with "leaders" who care talk about how they found their path in life. In my mind, at the time, this seemed like a great opportunity, especially after leaving teaching in pursuit of the unknown and more autonomous freedom. The whole thing was pitched as the magical experience this revelation in the pursuit of freedom and self-understanding.

The aforementioned battle cry is really a hollow smoke screen for narrative based reality television (though they love to make the distinction that this is a "Documentary Series"). Perhaps in its inception, Roadtrip nation, which was the brainchild of three wealthy white kids from Laguna Beach, was a genuine voyoge into the void of American Society to seek out experiences and conversations. However, whatever flicker of spontaneity and wild freedom they sought after, has been extinguished with the presence of production minded film school children and a need to create a profitable product. "Be natural on camera, and be real," they say as the microphone rips my chest hair, the camera shutter speed snaps and cracks, and I am asked to drive past the same spot for the third time while discussing my feelings about driving a large vehicle." Their are quotas and needs for The Story's arch, which was written years ago, and to which our lives are now stretched across its brittle skeleton.

Now, its not all bad. The people that film us aren't bad people, but they on the same token are forced to prodcue with out a need for growth or progression--they are told to document what has been done--to seek out the safe and familiar. A human beings they are agreeable. The two other roadtrippers, who applied just like me, are a lovely lot. We are making our relationship a reality in moments when wires and red lights cease to cloud the foreground. We have the challenge of maintianing our authenticity, and to fight to make this trip our own. So shall I be obstinate and defiant? Yes, only when I feel like it is warranted.

Below is my written response to the mild mannered director, after she wrote me an email addressing my statements on the pre-trip interview, acknowledging my awareness of editing and the biased gaze of the lens, as potentially problematic ingredients in this experience (Also some photos to tickle your visual needs).

Godspeed Citizens,

Kuhn

I thank you for your thoughts. What I mentioned in my first pre-thoughts interview, has ignited from a spark of fear to a wildfire of concern. So as of today, July 9, 2011, I will give you the two sides of my perspective on this project:

1) The Long-Winded Verbose Negative Brain Fart: I dislike this process, because in its essence it is not three people on the road, and truly the emphasis isn't on documenting the conversations with the leaders and the revelations which occur there. Those moments seem totally authentic and inspiring, and in that sense the cameras become a tool. However, when the focus then becomes, "well what are we going to do with the rest of our day, and how can we make a narrative out of it", it totally shuts me down, i.e. let's go for a swim in the ocean, but stage the entrance into the water, or let's get to know each other on a rocky cliff with a great skyline, or let’s turn off the music so I can shoot you eating cheez-its, or let's go get the oil changed, and have you all stand there, even though this could be done by one person, and the event isn't a revelation.

The superfluous filming of our lives outside of the moments that are directly linked to the researching, attainment, and reflection of the interviews with leaders, seems cheap, forced, counterproductive, and aims no higher that to be just another cog in the wheel of modern reality TV.

The beauty of this idea, was the conversations with leaders, the work it takes to break down social and self imposed barriers to have a pure conversation with an inspiring individual. However, that seems to have taken a back seat for film school ethics on plot development and the recapitulation of a pre- existing narrative: “Three lost 20 somethings, hit the road in a big scary RV, to struggle with new experiences and places, and to engage in some “changing life shit”.”

This is not 2001, we are not Nate and his buddies, and when you put the cameras into the hands of people (strangers) who have been trained to do a job (create reality programming), the scenarios become anything but organic: moments are stopped and started for angles, quotas, needs, and inherently the lens is not coming from those on the trip. This trip is between five people not three--there are silent figures here that occupy the space of controlling the entire situation, yet are free from having to display themselves in a marketable and consumable way.

I feel like all I have heard from RTN is about this magical experience and all of this amazaingness which is beset before us, but there is a failure to acknowledge or address what it has meant for your movement to take the agency of documenting the experience out of the hands of those who are supposed to be at the core of it. To put the gaze of the lens into a third party and to initiate an experience with the intent of creating a product, is somehow glossed over as a side note or secondary, when in fact it has become paramount.

2) The Nicer and Briefer Side: I know I should just let go an embrace this experience for what it is, and accept the cameras as apart of this process, and in many respects get off my fucking high horse, and just have fun. I know that our travels to the leaders is also apart of the overall journey to speak with them, so it is valuable to acknowledge that it should be documented. Brooklyn, Nekeed, Dan and Willie, are great human beings (and I feel us all getting closer, especially when we are out in the evenings). We are learning about each other, and seeing many new things. I can embrace an awkward camera here and there, and not feel like I am compromising my morals. This is an opportunity to try and utilize the platform of RTN to strengthen my self confidence, and to access situations which might not normally be available. A spectacle isn’t always a bad thing.

As for your Question:

Worst case scenario in 10 years I have chosen to stop pursuing interests, challenges, and creativity, and I am sad pathetic man--I am not shooting for a job or a rank or a specific goal. I feel totally confident that I will accomplish what I am supposed to do with this life and that happiness will be my reward. I came on this trip to speak with leaders, simply to speak with them and engage in conversations which challenged me intellectually and emotionally, and allowed for a mutual musing on the struggles of life and the pursuit of contentment---but I am not approaching them from the standpoint that I am lost or somehow need guidance--I am exactly where I should be, and have complete faith in that fact.

I have fear of owning my role as an artist in this world and not being super confident in my skills. But somehow I have a feeling that I will make that happen for myself, be it on a personal or global scale. I have a life time of growth ahead of me.