The recent snowfall in Baltimore reminds me of home, as snow tends to do. It’s not an identical situation by any means (considering that snow typically stays on the ground where I’m from), but it’s something familiar to hold on to, even if the city’s drivers can’t say the same.
I’ve been dwelling on the idea of home frequently. Winter break is a funny time for college students who attend a school far away from home. For me, going home meant a mix of familiarity and culture shock, which gradually developed into an event that was anticipated with dread.
Coming from the background that I do - a Midwestern origin and modest means - I’m statistically a minority at Hopkins. It can often feel that way, too. In this regard, home was at first a welcome release from a school that often seems dominated by east-coasters and kids with money. But the idea of “home” takes on an entirely different meaning after living in a new place with new experiences for a long period of time. What was once so familiar to the point of being unconsciously normal is now strange, and a distant familiarity develops. Home is something you were once close to, but which you can never approach in the same way. Without realizing it, you’ve become a different person: holidays are now more chore than celebration, and living far away deepens hidden wounds that resurface at would-be merry gatherings.
This is a phenomenon – that is, coming back to a family in decay - that I wanted to capture during winter break. I wanted to take a life snapshot, to document my feelings of coming home during my final winter break of my college career, but to also have something tangible that I could then use in the process of creating something new. This “tangible” thing would be represented through audio and visuals. I would try create something about my life at home through film. All of these thoughts came last minute, in the anticipation of going home for break. I was lucky enough to be able to take a 16MM Arri SRII camera and Zoom recorder home with me.
The plan was loose. I was going to shoot at home, but knowing how camera-shy my family is, this would have to get creative. The audio recordings would be easier to pull off, I knew, because I could easily hide the recorder around my home, which I did. The terrifying part of the project is that I had no knowledge or control over what might happen, but I can tell you that what did unfold I couldn’t have expected, and that it was dramatic, to say the least. Whether I can skillfully edit this raw material into a polished final project is another question.
What will follow this semester in future posts is a recounting of the process of shooting and recording for this film, as well as a diary of the editing process. The film, at this point, feels like a mix of documentary and fiction. It will be a restructuring of things that did happen (audio recorded with the Zoom and, at critical times, my iPhone) and of somewhat staged situations (visuals recorded on film) to make a hybrid of sorts. In the process, I’ll continue to explore what “home” means for me, especially relevant considering that I’m not quite sure where I’ll be living in a few months post-graduation. The idea of what “home” is and what it connotes will continue to fluctuate for me, I know, but in the end I think this film will represent a very specific time, place, and feeling in my life, especially as it relates to home; a very personal film indeed.
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