During filmmaking class, we were learning about lighting. The cute, dorky TAs were setting up the key light (the main light on the subject), the fill light (fills in the shadows), and a back light (highlights the back of the subject, or lights a part of the background) in the front of the classroom, which is really an auditorium with stadium seating. They set up a camera and hooked it up to the projector so you can see all that was happening. On the large screen you can see the TAs setting up the lights and everything around a chair which would be used for the person who would be the subject.
My fave TA, A., the one who is a director of photography, and reminds me of Mark Ruffalo (epitome of dorky glasses-wearing guys--and A. wears glasses like the ones Ruffalo wears in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"!) noticed that the camera was set-up and that he was being projected on the screen. [Cute, dorkiness alert!] He waved to the camera shyly and simultaneously looked at his image above at the screen. So lovely. I was one of the few who laughed at this display of dorkery. It was so beautiful and lovely and dorky that I could feel my heart glow a bright red and blush. He continued doing what he does best, disregarding the camera that was capturing every movement he made and projecting it onto the screen.
And there was more...The lighting was finally set-up. A student volunteered to be the subject. The key light was on him, and the fill light was getting rid of all the shadows that his nose cast. At first, he didn't want to be the person to explain the lighting, but the prof said, "But, you're a great D.P." He shrugged, looked at the crowd of students eagerly waiting to learn, and began to speak. A. was explaining the lights and their uses, talking slowly and softly, yet he was loud enough so that everyone in the auditorium could hear him.
He said that the backlight could be used to highlight someone and distinguish them from the background. He focused the backlight on the subject's back. His image immediately popped out of the screen, all eyes on the subject, a guy with longish blond hair and glasses. He no longer blended with the background. The light can also highlight something the director wants the audience to see in the background.
Behind the subject and against the wall was a desk with a large water bottle on it. A. turned the instrument (what they call each light) and bathed the water bottle in bright, white light. On the screen, you can see it in the background, glowing. He said, "Maybe he's really thirsty." I laughed, with a few other students who caught this soft remark, covering my mouth and trying to stifle the smile that his comment provoked.
I wanted to hide my laughter, my pleasure, for I didn't want to stand out. I sit in the absolute middle of the classroom, for my viewing pleasure, and I had my Ash Wednesday ashes on my head, the only one in the room who did. As if, I didn't stand out already.
I don't think I did though, that much, that day. I watched A. closely, taking notes on all the lights, their positions, how we should set up our own three-point lighting set. When he spoke to us, he would look at the students, becoming a better, more confident speaker--he had said earlier that he hated to talk (he even refused the microphone that the prof regularly uses). He and I would make eye-contact. Only briefly, but it was wonderful, to have someone, even a stranger, you find lovely to look into your eyes. Dorks. They're a beautiful thing.
Incidentally, the ashes I received resemble a heart. It's in my profile picture, kind of small, but I'll reproduce it here so it's easier to see. Good luck on your Lenten sacrifices, if you have any. I also added red meat to mine!
1 commentaire:
oh, chaunce, i told you not to worry about reading my blog! it's totally fine.
cute story!!! i wish a dorky boy would be me coffee. or tea, for me. haha.that straw thing is priceless.
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