There is an old adage that people who make television don’t watch television.
I stopped watching television about 15 years ago. Prior to that I had worked on a weekly live cablecast music show that featured a live band every week. I became a Public Access Television producer, and part of a 10-person crew. The show was called “Virtual Noise” and was on its 10th year in Austin, Texas.
I ran one of three pedestal cameras used for dolly shots in a beautiful and vast soundstage, and acted as Stage Manager. The show featured a host and live interviews, great sound and lighting, and a look that was constantly in motion. One of the crew was game developer Richard Garriot, son of astronaut Owen K. Garriot. He had become famous for his video game “Wing Commander”, and recently became one of the first space tourists to orbit the earth in the space station. Richard ran the “Spasticam”, the shoulder rig that was mobile and versatile. Sometimes he shot from a ladder, other times from flat on the floor.
It was a blast. Trying to hear the director through the headphones while Sunflower plays through their Marshall Stacks cranked to 11 was a total hoot. It was a great time, as were the live concert videos I helped film from onstage and from in the crowd with the shoulder rig. Below is a video I ran camera on for Austin sensation Ian Moore, now of Seattle, Washington. Working where others are there to play is sometimes an awkward mix. I remember once looking out from my closeup shot and punching a guy in the crowd who climbed into my booth when I was filming!
I had also began a documentary on the Columbus Fleet ships and crew which entailed sailing with a generator to run the cameras aboard the 15th century ships. Definitely not the hot set up!
“Virtual Noise” ended its decade-long run in the ’90’s. My Columbus Fleet documentary was never finished. But when it was all said and done, I still preferred making my own videos, quietly and deliberately. I would take a week’s vacation from my job and turn my small apartment into a set. I would record ten pieces in five days, in different settings and moods and create a video collection for my mother to watch back home on the farm. Because of illness, Mom spent a lot of time in bed. She was my biggest fan, and she wore those tapes out.
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Years later, when my mother died, I couldn’t play at her funeral.
I stopped playing guitar altogether, and wondered if I would ever play again. I declined to be part of events where I would have to perform.
Nine silent months passed.
Then I began to practice a mantra for healing as part of my walking meditation in haiku and within a day of beginning it I received a request from someone who wanted me to teach them guitar.
But the most telling thing was when I received a phone call from a guitarist friend on a tour bus headed to Nashville. Out of the blue, Keith Rivers called from the Eagle bus and said he wanted to nominate me for the Nashville Musicians Registry, an invitation-only reference of Musicians for Musicians. A high honor.
I couldn’t tell him I had stopped playing.
As if I had never stopped, I began playing again. And all was right with my world.
I believe this was Mom’s hand at work.
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A round-about story to say, Thank You, for all of your loving support. And Happy Mother’s Day. You always knew what was best for me.
You will always be my biggest fan. And I am yours.
The image above is known to all in video as Bars and Tone. It is used to calibrate the screen and audio dynamics of the equipment.
Below is one of the videos I made for Lillian from my couch.
Love and Light,
––H.
