For The Illiterate

Looking for Artists/Art Director for Animation by swiechnik

Hi everyone.

I’ve decided to start work on my first independent Motion based Full Animation project. It will be approximately 6-8 minutes in length and tells the story of a boy who on his fifth birthday discovers the ability to be any age he wishes. It’s simple and the story is told mostly through voice-over narration like a children’s story being told but doesn’t gloss over things like sex, alcohol, or drugs (it refers to them in the same manner of fact tone that it uses when referring to riding a bicycle or getting a job).

I’m going to go through the process of making the animation in motion and doing all of the editing, but I’m looking for someone who thinks they might have an interesting or unique art style that might fit this project, or knows some people who do.

As for art, I’m happy to work with all sorts of styles. Please pitch anything that comes to you. I’ll let you know if it’s too much.

If so, I will send out the script to you to read through, and if you could send me sketches or whatnot let me know. There is no money in this, it’s done completely for love (but it might be good for a portfolio).

Thank you and Please email me if you have any questions.

New Site! by swiechnik

Hey. For the new site, check out either: shane.bandofchildren.com or Argyleblog.tumblr.com

It covers my twitter, regular blog, reader favorites, new Youtube videos, and anything else i have to say.

Still under construction.

shane

FTI moving and under construction by swiechnik

Hello

Here’s the deal.

I want to start getting more use out of this blog. It kind of died in the ass recently. So i’m going to be rebuilding the damned thing somewhere else.

Peace

Time Away by swiechnik

Apologies for not having posted recently. I’m going to make an effort to get back to work on this blog and spruce it up again. Much to post about.

See ya soon,

Shane

Public Urination by swiechnik

by Shane Orion Wiechnik

int. hallway (high school). day

BILLY hastily rushes up to the door of a handicapped toilet. He looks around nervously before opening the door.

int. handicapped toilet. day

(more…)

Memories by swiechnik

int. lounge room. night

MAN sits on the sofa staring at a staticy television screen. He puts his leg up on the coffee table, and picks up a hack saw from beside him. He throws back a shot of whiskey, prepares himself, and begins sawing into his own leg. Once the leg is chopped off he tosses it to his dog. He then takes another shot and starts cutting at his leg again. He cuts a very thin slice and looks at it. He gets up and hops over to the television set. He pushes eject on the dvd player, and places the slice of leg in the tray, then closes it. He presses play. The television begins to show home footage of children running around, It’s cutting quickly through old family videotape images. The man smiles and stares.

END

©Shane Orion Wiechnik

“A Horse” Short Film Script by swiechnik

Inspired by an art piece created by Maurizio Cattelan.

Written by Shane Wiechnik

 

          INT. KITCHEN (COMMERCIAL BUILDING). MORNING

 

          A MAN walks into the pristine white KITCHEN/employee lounge. He’s

          dressed in a white button down shirt and black tie. He has

          short¬† hair and large framed glasses.¬†

 

          While the door is open, the sound of several people bustling quickly

          through the hallway is heard off screen. The MAN closes the

          door and the noise is stifled. The MAN, walking with the

          exhaustion of being awake far too early, stumbles over to

          the cabinet and retrieves a coffee mug. He then heads

          towards the tiny white coffee machine and looks into it.

          Inside the coffee pot are only enough for half a cup of

          coffee. He looks towards the coffee grounds on the counter,

          begins to reach his hand towards it lifts the hollow

          container up to his eye revealing that there is none left.

          he sighs heavily. His hand plummets towards the counter and

          he plops the jar back onto the counter, and after a short

          pause he drags his arm over towards the coffee pot, lifts

          the pot, and pours the dregs into his mug.

 

          The man turns around and leans against the counter. He lifts the

          mug towards his mouth and reluctantly takes a sip,

          immediately recoiling with disgust.

 

          The man then drops his arm, holding the coffee mug down towards

          his side, takes in a deep breath and moves back towards the

          door from which he entered. He opens the door, and the sound

          from the hall seems to blow him back slightly. He takes

          another deep breath, sighs heavily, and trudges out of the

          room.

 

          INT. HALLWAY (COMMERCIAL BUILDING). MORNING

 

          The MAN is walking slowly and tiredly through a long

          straight white hallway with doors lining it every 15ft. The

          doors are all black. Other men, dressed in full suits, are

          rushing up and down the hallway around him, carrying

          paperwork, and moving with great urgency and holding

          themselves with pride and a hint of job satisfaction

          (however that might be represented).

 

          The MAN continues to walk for a while, taking sips every now and

          then from his mug, and then recoiling immediately back,

          pursing his lips and clenching his eyelids.

 

          He looks to the side and sees a plain white door. he stops dead,

          and takes a step back to get a better look. He turns towards

          the door and stares at it long and hard. The door reads “A

          Horse.”

 

          The MAN, raises a single eyebrow, takes a sip from his mug, recoils,

          looks around at the men still rushing by him, shrugs, and

          moves forward pushing open the door.

 

          INT. LARGE ROOM (COMMERCIAL BUILDING). MORNING

 

          The MAN enters into a massive empty white room and closes

          the door. This room has no windows, and no other doors. The

          walls are completely white, and the roof is nothing but

          panels of flouresent lights. The floor is white marble tile.

          The sound of a large industrial fan is heard in

 

          The MAN looks across the room and squints his eyes. He

          raises an eyebrow again, leans forward and squints his eyes

          again. He stops, shakes his head, and starts moving across

          the room. Every footstep squeaks loudly and echoes

          throughout his surroundings. As he gets closer towards the

          other side of the room, his movements become a bit more

          hurried. Some of the mush in his coffee mug splats against

          the floor as he begins to jog toward the other end.

 

          He stops dead 10 feet before reaching the opposite wall, where

          the body of a HORSE is hanging halfway up the wall from it’s

          head which is somehow miraculously stuck in the wall, as if

          it were dipping it into a pond, and the pond instantly

          solidified.

 

          The MAN stares briefly at the horse before relaxing a bit, and

          chuckling nervously to himself, searching the room furiously

          as if he just tripped on his own shoelaces and wants to make

          sure no one saw. He wags his head back and forth and moves

          more calmly towards the horse.

 

          The HORSE is motionless. The MAN examines the strange being in

          the wall, from all angles. peering curiously at every inch,

          bending over to get a look from underneath. As he

          straightens his back, he examines quite carefully at the

          point where the neck reaches the wall. He sips his coffee again,

          but his response to it’s flavour is muted. He scans the

          HORSE one last time before nodding respectfully.

 

          Then, after drawing his brow low and rubbing his hand

          against his mouth, he reaches out, finger first, and pokes

          the leg of the HORSE. It instantly jerks viciously around

          and starts pounding at the wall with it’s legs. pushing at

          the wall from which it hangs, and straining it’s shoulders

          and neck muscles as if pulling with all it’s might.

 

          The MAN stumbles back, looses his balance and collapses to the

          floor. His mug smashes against the white marble and pieces

          scatter across the floor. His eyes are wide, and he scoots

          backwards frantically away from the HORSE which is still

          struggling wildly against the wall.

 

          The MAN does not move, but just stares at the horse. It’s frantic

          movements reflect in his glasses, and his jaw hangs

          unhinged.

 

          The horse stops struggling, and moves more calmly, every now¬†

          and then making a quick jerk as if to catch the wall off

          guard.

 

          The MAN pulls himself to his feet still holding the broken handle

          to the coffee mug. he looks down at it. his hand is

          bleeding. he tosses the handle to the side and sucks on the

          wound in his finger. His eyes are clenched heard, and he

          moans with frustrated pain.

 

          He then takes the finger out of his mouth, grips it with his other

          hand, grimacing tightly, and then shakes the finger in the

          open air before returning it to his mouth.

 

          The HORSE begins to frantically thrashing against the wall once

          again and the MAN’S eyes open. He lowers the finger down

          from his mouth, cradling it in his other hand.

 

          There is blood dripping from the point where the HORSE’S

          neck meets the wall.

 

          The MAN rushes towards the HORSE once again, making sure to avoid

          it’s swings, and stares up at the blood. The horse stops

          again, and the man takes a few steps back.

 

          His jaw is dropped again, and he tilts his head slowly to

          the side. His eyes are sad, and concerned. The ROOM is

          silent for a moment.

 

          Then, suddenly, the MAN’s eyes wander to the left, and he sees

          a glass case on the wall that had not been seen before.¬† The

          glass case contains a shot gun and two rounds. The horse

          begins to thrust more violently then ever, and the man

          clenches his finger one last time before letting go and

          rushing quickly towards the glass case. He smashes the case

          open and removes the shotgun and the ammo. The horse is

          moving more quickly then ever. The MAN loads the the gun

          looking up every few seconds at the horses actions, cocks

          the gun and stands up with great purpose, but then stops.

 

          The horse is still thrusting violently, but the man is

          moving slowly and more hesitantly now towards the horse. He

          raises the gun to his shoulder, and aims carefully. The

          horse is moving with more speed and force then ever before,

          and the MAN clenches his eyes tight before firing two rounds into

          the creature.

 

          The shot echoes through the room and there is silence for a moment.

          The horse hangs limply and the man is frozen.

 

          The man drops the gun to the floor and hangs his head. blood is

          dripping from the horses body now directly onto the marble

          floor.

 

          The echoes from the sound of the gun falling fade and there is

          silence again.

 

          The MAN begins to turn away when a cracking noise is heard. The

          MAN stops, and turns back towards the horse. It’s torso is

          moving oddly, like something from the inside is pushing out.

          Cracking is heard still, and ripping. he body of the horse

          sways a little from the force of it’s spasms. The man looks

          wide eyed once more at the beast but not moving.

 

          The back of the horse then splits down the middle and it’s sides

          rip open like double doors to a strange alien space ship.

          The skin of the horse pulls taught and rips apart as they

          open.

 

          The MAN steps back away, but moves around towards a position from

          which he can see the inside. The sound of steps on a metal

          latter echoes from within the HORSE, getting louder. The

          sound stops.

 

          Out of the HORSE reaches a wrinkled human hand, holding a wooden

          cane. The MAN recoils much like when he tasted his coffee

          and covers his nose.

 

          A tiny OLD WOMAN pulls herself from inside of the beast and stands

          on it’s lower back. She has a warm and friendly demeanor,

          and she smiles widely. The man looks around slowly, sees the

          MAN and gestures for him to come closer.

 

          The looks behind himself, then back towards the OLD WOMAN.¬†

          He then gingerly walks towards her, taking only baby steps.

 

          As he gets within arms reach of the OLD WOMAN, he opens his mouth

          as if to speak making the first sounds of a question before

          the OLD WOMAN presses a finger against his lips, silencing

          him.

 

          She then holds her arm out, and tilts her head up proudly.

 

          The MAN helps her down from the back of the HORSE and places her

          on the ground. She looks up at him one last time, winks, and

          jaunts happily out of the room like a child skipping through

          the woods.

 

          The MAN stands open jawed again. He looks down into his hand to

          see a brand new mug of coffee full of delicious, steaming

          coffee. The man tastes the coffee, and smiles hugely and

          surprised. He looks over towards the horse.

 

          The HORSE hangs lifeless and broken.

 

          The MAN, perking up, winks at the horse, and struts out of the

          rooms whistling happily. When he opens the door the sound of

          people bustling through the hallway is heard again.¬† He

          stops, before confidently striding into the hallway mug in

          hand. The door closes behind him.

 

          The only sound in the room is the industrial fan in

 

          END

Hamlet- Shakespeare and Company (2008 tour) by duffydouff

Directed by Eleanor Holdrige

Shakespeare & Company came to Keen State College to not only perform their production of Hamlet but to deliver a Masters Class. unfortunately i missed it. The performance was wonderful and thought provoking- as i always find Shakespeare. The cast was obviously well versed in the delivery of lines and the meanings. the conversation- for the most part- flowed with the theater version of Average modern conversation. jokes were punctuated with relatable gesticulations and all that stuff necessary for keeping the audience awake during Shakespeare. in general the acting kicked, save gertrude. The dry lofty way she would speak the lines disconnected me from the performance. she was portrayed as a weepy pathetic woman, which i have never seen before.

Hamlet was quite good, his rage and confusion made me feel like he could be anyone i know in that crazy situation, i dug how he would sometimes be incoherent mumbling to himself or butchering words through emotional fits. he was clever and intense.

 Ophilia- crazy crazy. they drew from Titus (directed by Julie Taymor) Lavinia is driven mad by torture in one scene. the costuming also followed this scene closely. I would say that i was most struck by Liz Raetez’s performance, i can still hear her scream in my head, bloodcurdling. Being manipulated by her father, by Hamelet, by Polonius was subtle which i enjoyed very much.

Last comment on acting- Johnny Lee Davenport. Wow. he was amazing.  His sence of space, physicality and speech was beyond enjoyable. Playing the roles of Ghost, Grave digger, and Player-king. 

Scenic design elements included clean lines and metallic touches. they used florescent bulbs to frame the space and also as torches during the Ghost watch scene. Maximum set dressing involved 2 acrylic clear chairs and 2 cube ottomans. Really caused the focus to be on the actors. though the interesting thing was that the lighting was harsh directional, cross stage almost no frontal lights at all. so the deep chairo scuro obscured the faces most of the time. disassociation ran rampant in my brain. these people were not human, they were memories. “…I have conceived a production that centers the play in Hamlet’s brain in his last few dying moments” this becomes apparent by very well planned details which could possibly be more worked. the lights and audio would occasionally flash and a sound of shocks or electricity would give the feeling that the power was going out in a very violent way. it dint register to me at the time but after some discussion and reading the directors notes it made more sense. OO and the delivery of many soliloquies and monologues Jason Asprey (Hamlet) would grab his arm- where he would later be stabbed with the poison blade.

No bad things to speak of (they existed but hell, lets focus on the positive)

Duffy