I am nearly done with logging tape, just about ready to compile my edit script before this week is out hopefully. I want to give myself enough time to at least complete a rough cut of the first half of the film, which will take place in Rochester and act as a setup for the trip to Puerto Rico. 

I have delved into some of the earliest tape that I shot for this project recently, leaving the last material to log at the very end. I hadn't planned to do it that way, but in some ways, it is a nice little bookend to the process. I just went through the first tape that I shot, which oddly,  was done on Superbowl Sunday. My wife's parents had brought Grandma home from the nursing home, which can be a challenge since she is rather immobile and completely dependent on others to get anywhere. Try lifting 130 or so pounds of dead weight and you'll understand. These occasions always revolve around her since she in many ways is still the matriarch of the family. In Puerto Rican culture, and I imagine in many Hispanic cultures, the women tend to have a dominant role in many aspects of domestic life, and particularly the eldest women are revered. Donia Andrea, a title of respect for Grandma, is always the center of attention when she does visit, and so I took the opportunity to document this rare occasion since there are only so many of them left. On a night traditionally reserved for an American past-time, the traditions of my family's Puerto Rican roots permeate the event. Lucy serves up chicken wings and chips, but not without some arroz con habichuelas (rice and beans) to accompany them. Spanish music fills the air and during a half-time lull, the TV inevitably flips to Univision momentarily.  

Holidays are always a good opportunity to capture family together, preparing traditional foods, spontaneously breaking into dance, peppering the air with a mixture of English and Spanish, at times within the same sentence. This is how I spent last Easter, and the 4th of July. It is most interesting to see how these days, not typically associated with Spanish culture per se, become reasons to celebrate their traditions. It is not that they always set out with the intention of transforming everything inherently American into a Puerto Rican festival, but it seems that their every action is so infused with the culture, they cannot separate one from the other. 

As I reflect on the material that I have shot, I am both amazed at the amount of content I have to work with as well as disappointed by what I see as missed opportunities. It is of course, impossible to capture every aspect of a culture in one documentary of any length. There will always be those events that I failed to get for one reason or another, as well as those that I thought were going to be so crucial, which in the end don't make the cut. I always try to remember a sentiment uttered by another artist: "If you are in love with an idea, you are no judge of its value". For this reason, I try never to fall too deeply in love with any single aspect of my work, but rather treat each element with an equal dose of skepticism.

I have been busy logging tape over the last couple of weeks, just finishing going through some footage I shot in August. After hearing the stories from my wife and her sister about the car rides they took as kids to their parents' old neighborhoods in Rochester, I knew that I wanted to go back there and experience it along with them. It had been a number of years since their last trip to Weld and Woodward Street, Hudson Ave., North and Scio Streets. In their day, these neighborhoods were poor, at times violent, with drugs becoming a growing problem. But they were nothing compared to what they are today. Many of the houses and buildings they remembered have been torn down, or are abandoned and neglected. If anything, drugs and violence are a bigger problem now, with poverty having grown as well.

Yet they did not lament the fact of change, even negative ones. To them it is just that, a fact. Sprinkled throughout the struggling spread of homes and businesses are those places that have been kept up, and the people who have stayed. They stick out even more amongst the depressed state of things around them. We stopped the car at one point and step out into the street and are greeted in Spanish by a woman who had just stepped out of her front door. She is hidden behind a mesh of fence, but my mother in law Lucy recognizes her immediately. Both she and my father in law, John, knew her from their years living here, though it has been more than a decade since they have spoken. She lives in the house where Lucy had last lived with her mother and several sibling before she was married. The house is a bit rundown and surrounded by rustic emphemera stacked about the yard, but in better care than some in the area. They converse in Spanish through the six or seven foot tall steel gate. She passes a few herbs from her garden over the top for us to take to our own garden. Her friendly demeanor reminds me of the people in Puerto Rico, the older generation that Lucy has spoken of, who always welcomed everyone, no matter who you were.

They spot another familiar face across the street and strike up a conversation with her. Then we are all invited inside the gate's confines to view the additions and subtractions to the house over the years. They reminisce for a bit, then make their extended farewells, the "Puerto Rican goodbye" as my wife often describes it.

We travel to the spot where my wife's parents first met. Only one of their original houses at the location still stands. My wife and I both have come to these neighborhoods in our jobs covering news stories, usually bad news. Shootings, stabbings and fires are common here and much of the area is worse for wear. It doesn't seem to reflect the positive memories that John and Lucy often speak of. But to them, this is just a sign of how time changes things, sometimes for the better, and sometimes not. 

Our encounter with the two old friends does remind me that not all is lost here. I think of our impending trip to Puerto Rico and what we will uncover as Lucy revisits a past that she tucked away more than two decades ago. It is bittersweet at times to revive bygone days in this way I suppose, and often,  it leads us to avoid a past that might otherwise edify our present.

I just wanted to finish up on my discussion of process that I began in yesterday's post (see below).

As I shoot, I try to spend time periodically logging footage, which is a tedious and time consuming task. Its importance to my process is immeasurable however. It involves a lot of playing and stopping tape, transcribing sound word for word, as much as possible, and making notes of the images as well. This does two things for me; first, it offers me the opportunity to review footage to find elements that I may not have noticed while concentrating on shooting, and second, it provides a detailed record that I can reference later by timecode to quickly evaluate and locate elements that I want to use in the final piece.

Up to this point, I have logged over 100 pages from the interviews and other material I have captured on over 10 hours of tape. I typically shoot a ratio of somewhere between 12:1 and 20:1. That is, for every minute that ends up onscreen in the final edit, I have shot between 12 and 20 minutes of raw footage. I have been working a bit more loosely, experimenting with things that may not make it into this film at all, but that I could use in the future, so I may end up shooting over 20 hours for a 45 minute to 1 hour documentary. I have heard of filmmakers who shoot on the order of 40:1 or more, which seems insane, but in the end is all about what works for an individual. In all, this is a lot of logging, but as I go through, it is essential to the process.

Once all my footage is logged, I go through all of my logged material and highlight any material that I think might be useful in the process. Initially, I try not to be overly discerning because once I have done this, I normally ignore anything that is not highlighted. Next, I highlight, in a different color, all of the elements that I think are important, and likely would work well in the final piece. This is not to say they all will make it in, but I go through with a more critical eye, evaluating the raw material for its inherent value to the narrative. Finally I go through once more, this time usually with a red pen or marker, and underline all of the most salient points, the things that I think must absolutely be in the film. These are the points that are at the heart of the narrative that I will build everything else around.

From there I will begin to lay down the sound of the narrative, and as I move through this and the story begins to take shape, I will start to write and experiment with my own voice in the piece, supporting the story that each character is telling.

As I continue on with this process, I'll share some of the stories that have come out during shooting and I'll have more to say about the shape that the story is taking.