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The Underground
Filmmakers combat mindless media
by Molly Kincaid
Some people struggle for years to find their passion. For Meg Vinson, the epiphany came while ironing her hair. Not long after she began studying art at UT, fellow students Sarah Long and Amira Inas, were working on a film called Tangled about different hair types, and they asked Vinson to iron her hair for it. As her first real exposure to film as an art medium, the project piqued her interest; and it wasn’t long before Vinson, who was primarily a painter at the time, was hooked.
Like Vinson, many members of Knoxville’s underground film community seem to have haphazardly tumbled into film; but for most, the fall is remembered as a sort of influenced twist of fate. At a recent gathering of SMAC, the Southern Media Arts Collective, Jennifer Buffett gushed to fellow member Rachel Burggraf, “One of your films was the reason I started studying film.”
The close-knit collective is comprised mostly of former Media Arts students at UT that assemble from time to time to share ideas and talk shop. Though SMAC’s members could argue for hours about their respective methods, they all agree on one thing: Hollywood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “As soon as I start getting paid, I know it will get corrupt, so I don’t want to get paid,” Buffett says with convincing fervor.
Though none would go mainstream, some members say it’s possible to make a living in film. “I don’t believe it has to be anti-career oriented,” Lana Carnell says, “but it’s such a leap of faith to say, ‘I’m going to make a living at this and maintain artistic integrity.’”
Though independent film has definite limits as far as marketability, there is significant demand for installation of short film pieces in art galleries. “The more media in general becomes part of our daily lives, the more the art world is going to embrace it,” says SMAC member Rob Travis. An installation setting, adds Vinson, “allows you to be a working artist. It’s your concept, whereas in Hollywood, it’s more of a corporation.”
Of course, Knoxville doesn’t have a wealth of galleries suited for film installation , but underground filmmakers make use of the options they do have, such as the Knoxville Museum of Art, which often holds screenings open to anyone who wants to show their film. The 1010 gallery in the Candy Factory also holds photography and film showings from time to time.
The UT Media Arts Department holds its own festival called Handheld, which allows student filmmakers to screen their work at Downtown West. The festival, which used to be split into two nights and accept pretty much any student work, has been pared down to one night and is more selective in its line-up. Most view the change as positive because it strengthens the overall quality of the event. In the past, recalls former student Andrew Witt, “you’d be sitting through three hours of student film, and half of them would be great, but half of them would be excruciating to go through.”
The Pilot Light, notorious for relishing in the avant-garde, also hosts some experimental film screenings. Travis and John Phillips reminisce about their masterpiece of destruction entitled, A. Flavis. They’ve orchestrated the piece, which is more of an event than a film, twice at the Pilot Light. The other SMAC members can’t get a word in edgewise as the two creators excitedly describe the scene: a smorgasbord of iconographic images and sounds that they display via multiple projectors placed around the room. Travis cites the artists of A-1 Gallery as influencing their interest in the “juxtaposition of film captured to video and the analog of sounds. It’s chaotic and overstimulating, yet random and meaningless.” Phillips adds, “It’s a sort-of sadistic media working against everything that’s given to us and taking away everything it was intended for and making it a captivating event.”
The title A. Flavis refers to the fungus that eats away at film celluloid, so at the end of the piece, the artists intentionally destroy their product, singeing the loops in front of the projector and even smashing two of the 10 projectors in a rockstar-ish frenzy. Travis and Phillips are currently working on another “event” project called The New Deviance.
Contrasting the colossal scale of A. Flavis and such events are conceptual short films, which often convey one simple thought or image. Buffett regards her work as antithetical to the works of Travis and Phillips. “I’m interested in the media deluge as well, but in paring it down to one specific thing, so specific that it’s almost overdetermined,” she says. Her film Three Boyfriends features two conjoined horizontal frames: one with Buffett herself drinking from a table full of wine glasses; the other rotating among three talkative suitors. The only sound is subtle music, yet the shifting and overlapping images manage to portray an oblique and comical story through a bleary wine haze.
Paul Harrill, artist-in-residence at UT, who won the jury prize at Sundance in 2001 for his film, Gina, An Actress, Age 29, praises the short film medium for its flexibility. “It allows you to experiment. It allows you to tell stories that could never be told in a feature, because they are too modest. Most of our lives are dotted with the modest, rather than the epic,” he says.
Modesty pervades Meg Vinson’s short films, utilizing fleeting yet stark images to portray simple, sometimes vaporous ideas. Though often based on a single concept or subject, her films possess an almost tactile pulse due to her mastery of layering rambunctious imagery with equally hyperactive beats and rhythms. She began working with found objects, but lately she’s been experimenting with animation. “I don’t like people being in my films, so if I can sit in this room by myself, I can become patient and get really creative.” Her first attempt at animation is Element, which features a single branch-like image that mutates viscerally to a strangely alive, pulsating sound.
Vinson is concerned about the sound elements in her films, so she often records her own rhythms or manipulates music made by friends BJ Barbe (of the Knoxville band, Slick) and Bill Henderson. Pushing the natural marriage of film and music further, Vinson has screened her films at the Pilot Light as Henderson’s band, Reality Asylum, performed.
The general public is trained to think of film as always being narrative, but it could be argued that conceptual film gives both the filmmaker and the viewer more creative license. “I don’t think narratively,” says Vinson. “I’m sure you could find narratives in my work, but it’s not intended.” Likewise, Travis and Phillips strive to saturate the senses so completely that it’s almost impossible to take it all in. “We hope people kind of make the connections themselves,” Travis says.
The documentary format has long been used by underground filmmakers, and has even become popular with mainstream audiences as of late. Amira Inas is currently working on a documentary called, Naw Man, She Ain’t Chinese, which chronicles the experiences of several Asian Americans and people’s perceptions of them. Inas has tackled racial and feminist issues in many previous projects. “I guess you could say my films are inspired by the subject matter in my life,” she says.
As do many Knoxville artists, writers, musicians and history buffs, the filmmakers here seem to have a special bond with the city itself. Harrill is passionate in his belief that artists should create art in their own community. “I know Knoxville. I’ve lived here all my life, so it’s a really logical place for me to tell stories,” he says.
Many SMAC members share the desire to stay in Knoxville rather than bounding off to a bigger city. It doesn’t hurt that many folks in the community are willing to lend artists a hand when they are able. Andrew Witt, who worked on set design for Asia Argento’s film, The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things, says, “A lot of people gave us stuff for free or next to nothing. That to me was just really life-affirming as far as making film in Knoxville.” Witt has also filmed his own narratives and documentaries around town and recalls many businesses being hospitable in letting filmmakers use their spaces.
As far as Knoxville’s reception to viewing independent film, Travis says, “It’s pretty good compared to other Southeastern towns of its size. I think there’s a counterculture in this town.”
Lana Carnell interned at the Knoxville African American Film Festival and the on-hiatus international film festival, Valleyfest, which was held yearly in Knoxville until last year. Carnell was impressed to see that, “a lot of baby-boomers came out to see experimental work. There were a lot of interesting people there who really understood what was going on.”
As conducive as Knoxville’s community is to making art, underground filmmakers still don’t have an easy road, and they often have to act as their own producer and promoter just to get their work out. Though most aren’t seeking commercial success, they want their films to have an impact on people outside the arts community.
“I’d much rather a random person see my work than some big-name artist. I don’t make art for artists,” Vinson says.
Underground filmmaking toes the line between making art for art’s sake and the oft-repeated mantra of SMAC, “making something people want to see.” The consensus seems to be that it’s important just to keep creating. Much like struggling musicians, many Knoxville filmmakers have day jobs to fund their film projects. When asked why she forges on in filmmaking despite its many struggles, Rachel Burggraf says simply, “Because otherwise I’d stay up late at night thinking about making films.”
Meg Vinson will show four short films at the Tomato Head on Oct. 3 at 8pm. Rob Travis and John Phillips will screen “New Deviance” at the Pilot Light on Oct. 8.
September 23, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 39
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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