Camera tips were most helpful – especially turning off the record light so that an interviewee isn’t sure when things have stopped rolling.  Just like my classmate advised, in two occasions, the best lines were collected when the interview was “done”. I’m beginning to understand the challenges a documentary filmmaker faces when cameras are seen, and have gotten over the notion that this is being dishonest to one’s subject.

Another tip that proved invaluable was to approach a subject without any gear and to strike up a conversation with them to break the ice. Having a chat with a potential interview subject builds a relationship (albeit superficially) and makes the actual interview process far more pleasurable on both sides. Certainly my own comfort in talking to strangers made the interview acquisition process much easier, as did the flashing of the student card to prove my legitimacy.

Once in the midst of an interview, I was surprised at the ease with which questions rolled off my tongue that delved deeper into responses that our subjects had offered up. The idea of “rolling with things” while also staying on topic made for a more fulsome experience and far better insights, that I envision will end up in the final doc.

I also appreciated the tip of asking the same question three different ways at various times in the interview. This not only ensured consistency in the respondent, but also as I learned, allows for more creative editing, something I’d never considered before. I was also pleased with the simple act of re-framing our subject throughout the interview to further assist in the editing process.

While by no means the next “Barbara Walters”, I none-the-less feel far more educated about the interview process, and more confident in my skills to get the best out of my future subjects from what I garnered from Friday’s class and in-field experience. Much like with any new subject that I feel fortunate to learn about, I have a new found respect for those professionals who work in the documentary field, and I am eager to test my interview skills again soon.

I am a father, a husband, a brother, a son, an uncle, a friend. I am a man (who still at times feels like a boy), with responsibilities to myself, my community and my family. In the throes of career change, I identify first as an artist, and in the not too distant future I hope to add “teacher” to that description. I am full of potential to be a greater contributor to people and agencies in need. I am aware of the role I play, the identity I have as the glue that holds our family, my family, together – an emotionally stable force that directs our everyday routines, provides stability to young children and a sounding board for a work harried spouse. I am a lot of things and identify with many roles and this isn’t such a bad thing.

I haven’t really had cause (or direction) to lay that out before, and it begs reflecting on how this awareness might impact my academic pursuits and on a more micro level, my research and my film making. I love the power of story – could I have answered the identity question with “i am a storyteller”? What power is there in self reflex thought, in self reflex creation?

I’ve thought more about the usefulness of creative visual research – is this something I could use to help me answer some questions about my direction on certain paths? Certainly this is a tool I have had no previous experience with that could certainly benefit the subjects of my research project. In fact I think this is where my project is moving – using social constructivist learning to empower young people to think actively about the environment.

Reflecting on my identity, and on new ways of researching is sure to benefit me as a person and a professional. After all, shouldn’t the journey be at least have of the fun…?

After making our way in and introducing ourselves to the manager, we gave him our quick dog and pony show – flashed our student cards to prove our legitimacy (to whatever level that accords us) and popped the question. “Could you please interview some of the girls, and could we record it on camera for a documentary?” The first part of our query was agreed to with little hesitation, but a camera, no way. Not even an audio record. Disappointed but undeterred we ordered the obligatory round of over-priced suds and commandeered a table. 

The manager immediately engaged in busy work – unavailable at the moment; be over when he had a second. The ten or so patrons in there certainly didn’t qualify as a busy night but understood he was sussing us out.

The female contingent of our group talked to one of the dancers – a deliberate decision for all the gender and client roles associated with men being in a business of this kind. She was unwilling to come over and sit with us so, laptop in lap, I pounded away furiously on the keys. I didn’t realize at the time, our lecture was to come two days later, but I was actively engaged in “ethnographic research”. My eyes scanned over the entire room, noting the poor lighting, the bass heavy music, the dress of the dancers, the looks of the men (and women) as patrons, fingers pounding away in efforts to keep up with all that I observed. It truly was studying what was happening at that moment, recording it for digestion later in efforts to help paint a picture of subject matter.

After a while, our manager wandered over, agreeing to answer some of our questions. I’d characterize the forty plus minutes we had with him as interesting but not overly enlightening. Canned answers really, with only a twinkle of really meaty stuff that should prove of interest in our doc. Not surprising. This fella was far from savvy with blokes like us, more a victim of his circumstance, far too familiar with the droning answers he’s undoubtedly shared with anyone who cared to ask him his view of his business.

The really great part of the experience though, was that we entered the club with a clear idea of what we wanted to get, and how that would translate creatively into our project. The fact that we didn’t get that has forced us to turn the creative execution upside down, and to a person, we believe we’ve actually got a far better direction. Harvey’s refusal to give us what we hoped for, may just in fact, have given us more.

His talk was timely as I’m currently pulling together research material and analysis for my final project. I’ve asked myself how best I can talk about environmental issues without succumbing to the big “E” of the subject and thus losing my audience. Dr. Suzuki covered a broad range of topics under that umbrella but was able to enmesh the lecture with a sense of urgency – a message that we have to act and act NOW!

He elucidated that humans invented the idea of “future” (it doesn’t exist after all) and with that idea comes “foresight” – our greatest attribute. However, we have little to no foresight when it comes to what we are doing with our planet. We take and take, preferring to live with the idea of limitless growth, never asking “How much is enough?” He stated, economists and cancer cells are the only two things that think they can grow forever. He believes economists see things like trees as externalities, despite the fact that they change CO2 into O2, use their roots to prevent soil erosion into fish habitat, are the homes for thousands of species – all pretty important issues for us humans.

Dr. Suzuki beseached us to put the ECO (household) back into economics, to realize there is a limit to our growth and the effect it puts on our planet. He reminded us we emerge out of nature and when we die, we go back into nature – why then do we ignore it inbetween?

His “59th minute” test tube analogy is ripe for an animated treatment. He asked us to think of the world as a test tube, and if bacteria (us) were put into that, how we’d spread exponentially. He pointed out that at the 59th minute of an hour, the test tube would be half full. At the 60th, the bacteria would no longer have a place to live. That if we gave the bacteria 3 more test tubes, the second would be full at the 61st minute, the third at the 62nd minute and the fourth at the 63rd minute. He likens this to what we’re doing with our planet and the belief that we are living in the 59th minute. Scary.

What also resonated with me was his story of asking kids where electricity comes from, where water comes from in one’s tap, and where the toilet flushings go to. Ten year olds didn’t know – what does this say about our place in our environment? What does it say about the need to educate those kids? And what opportunities are there for me in my work to capitalize on this need for information?

To say David Suzuki is himself a force of nature underscores his value. I feel very fortunate to have seen him and I’m as motivated as ever to pursue my research and my studies in the field he has so heroically championed.

With Queen Street East as our subject, and in an attempt to narrow down our object of analysis, a classmate and I ventured into the world of adult entertainment, old school, that is to say, not on the web. We went to Jilly’s, an infamous icon of Queen East. 

Upon passing through the darkened doors, it’s pretty much just like you’d expect an “exotic dancing club” to be. Dark save for sporadic mood lighting and flashes of neon colour with a stage, a pole, a smattering of dancers and cliental spread out through the room. We were greeted by the manager and immediately advised him of our raison d’etre. Slightly perplexed, he was none-the-less quite forthcoming when we casually questioned him. He firmly believes the media portrays clubs like his unfairly, equating the dancers with hookers and drug addicts. When asked if he advertised to bring in more clients, his response back to us was, “Where? No one wants to have a strip club in their publication.” What about NOW magazine and Eye weekly we asked, two  local pubs well known for their  full colour adult advertisements located in the back of both papers. His response was incredulous – “What? We don’t wanna be associated with those guys. The massage parlours and escort services? No way.” Very interesting. When he was pressed about advertising in the beginning pages of the newspapers he stated it wasn’t even an option. No one wants strip clubs advertised and clubs have no advocates because most people just can’t get passed that fact that the entertainment they offer is a woman undressing in front of you. It seems that while these pubs are quite happy to have sex ads as revenue, there are limits as to where they can be placed. 

Television and film were no better in this man’s eyes. The sopranos and film only further portray the dancers as prostitutes and that just isn’t good for business. This, without a single acknowledgement on either of our part as a client is led off by a dancer to a more private area for a more private encounter.

So, where does that leave us from a research perspective? We understand the media portrays adult entertainment and strip clubs in particular, negatively, but that isn’t enough. We have to dig deeper to explain something further. What that might be, we still don’t know.

Over the course of two hours, my date Zita and I discussed the broad strokes and more benign aspects of database research. My knowledge going in was limited. I figured database research meant something one found on a computer, and conceptually I was correct. Oh but there is so much more than that.

Database research is an organized system of knowledge, classified according to a structure. (I  know, I get tingles too just repeating that…)

Inherent in this kind of system is a tool(s) that aid in finding data, usually with a list or index. There is little if any serendipity involved in finding information this way. 

Databases are very often subscription based with journals, magazines or other material that is not generally available to the public in other forms. There are professionals screening the material that is entered, ensuring some form of quality control. Beyond that, there are often peer reviews on the journals (written material) submitted, adding another level of quality assurance. In short, one looking for legitimate research material can feel secure knowing databases will contain professional vetted work.

One still has to maintain a critical eye however. Journals (et. al) must be impartial, and a user must delve a little deeper to ensure that material written about a certain topic has not been funded by an individual or company that stands to benefit from that particular publication.

Our date was going well and I was learning a great deal. I had to ask the big question though. Is the internet considered a database? Are website databases that are legitimate sources of research material? Zita smiled and there was a pause – wait for it – here it comes.

The internet is a search tool, with an index – a database with open access. Sites contain knowledge, classified according to a system (so far so good!). The catch though, is that anyone can contribute to that information – people without the scholarly background or professional designation that gives information its legitimacy. Furthermore, webpages could be here today, gone tomorrow, unsuitable for the rigours demanded of bibliographies and reference checking. Google, said Zita, is a good start, but libraries are far better.

I glanced at the clock. Our time was up. I’d learned a great deal about database research and felt far better equipped to tackle the challenge of my upcoming presentation, and, I’d met a friend. And in scholarly pursuits, there are few friends better than those with an intimate knowledge of the library. Thanks Zita.

And it’s off. Dark. Black. Lifeless, and quiet. Yes, quiet. Just sitting there. Waiting.

I think to myself, I worked hard to afford this tv. I researched the model, brand, display capabilities, dynamic contrast ratio, refresh rate, response time, video processor and input capabilities. I combed through weekly flyers and websites, waiting for the best price and then jumping on it when I knew I wouldn’t ever get it for less.

I recall the giddy excitement of unpacking it, setting it up and initiating it to my basement rec room with the movie Transformers (specifically chosen for the amount of action it promised, in efforts to ensure the specifications I so rigorously subscribed, were up to the task). A smile spread across my face. A smile of satisfaction and also, of bemused introspection. I mean, I don’t really even watch television. In all reality, ten months after this fine product of Japanese engineering became a part of our family, its most reliable confidants have been my kids, sharing such quality productions as Max and Ruby, Super Why and Go Deigo go (all judiciously managed at a half an hour a day).

And that sets me off on an analysis of why I limit the amount they watch. Am I concerned they’ll become slaves to the “idiot box”? No, they’re too active, and we give them many other options for play to allow for that. Is it the quality of the programming? No. Amidst the multitude of crap there are some decent productions (and the $275 investment in a PVR to specifically record the good bits ensure that is covered).

That leads me to thinking about my own role in children’s television series. After all, I’ve spent the last seven years of my life working on both the drivel and the good, on a multitude of productions. In fact, there has been great satisfaction from the thrill of hearing my kids call out my name when they see the credit flash on the screen of Busytown Mysteries. There is a sense of pride in having created something that has been viewed my hundreds (thousands?) of interested eyes, a feeling that I’ve left something tangible in this world with my fingerprint stamped all over it.

Wait a minute, how tangible and long lasting is a pre-school production anyway? Most series run for a few years and are then pulled, never again to see the light of day. Or do they? Does the digital element allow them to live on forever, through You Tube, a devoted website or blog. I’m now musing about how long it will be until our computers, with access to damn near anything, replace this 42 inches of complicated circuitry that does little more than play back what is piped into it via a small cable. A cable that I pay $36/month for, to a company that won’t even let me customize what I might be interested in watching if I ever did decide to bond with my Sharp.

I find myself staring at the carpet, lost in thought, no longer even focused on the television, realizing I’ve got a cable bill that needs to be paid