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Sometimes It's The Little Things

Lately I've been stuck. Stuck on a detail that is no small thing and yet, is certainly less consequential than I probably think it is. How do I close the exit of my set from the inside? I'm trying to box myself in, to seal the set's doorless room from within while making sure that the illusion of a room with no egress is complete, I want no sign of the outside world seeping through possible cracks. This would be easy to accomplish from the outside or at least easier, but I need to be on the set, in the room to make this film.

I think I've figured it out. It seemed like a throwaway concern at the beginning and it would have never been a concern at all if the set was created in a more "normal" or traditional manner but that's now this project is going. I'm happy with my solution in theory and putting that theory to test has revealed something.

Tolerance is an important consideration but exact tolerances can sometimes lead to more harm than good. I've built this portion of the set, the alcove with some fairly tight tolerances. The slotting mechanism I've created to slide and pull the alcove walls into the rest of the set are tight enough to hold the walls firmly but not without struggle and now it seems to the impediment of bringing the parts together and even more so in taking them back out when it is time return to the "normal" world. So now I find myself considering how much is too much, how little it too little. I'm finding that if I had loosened my tolerance just a bit maybe it would have worked more smoothly from the beginning. Now I find myself trying to lessen wall thicknesses without removing too much - too much and it does not stay in place, Too little and it doesn't move easily enough. My walls have a Goldilocks problem. I'm trying to find the just right.

In the real world there isn't much that is just right. Life is more of a pendulum, with the sway from good to bad and easy to difficult. The funny thing is that these swings from one side to another are never evenly balanced. Often it feels like the stretch of momentum that moves towards or away from those negative experiences seems to be moving through a thick morass while those swings in the positive side of the arc seem to be aided by a slipstream moving us at unexpected speeds, and it is only when the pendulum begins to draw towards the middle are we even able to see what lies behind us and before us. Only then does the force of the swing lessen enough for us to truly see and appreciate all sides of the experience.

Lately I've had my share of the morass, we all have, but I've also had my fun in the slipstream as well. The old adage "it was so close I could almost reach out and touch it" comes to mind. I've been close on a lot of goals and desires recently. That joy while short lived always invigorates me. This project is another great example. There are times when I walk through the set everyday only because I have to do so to get to other things that need my attention. It is an in-my-face reminder of what still needs to be done, but there are other days where I'm riding the slipstream, where things are coming together where a skeleton of one-by's becomes an old plaster and lathe wall. Where a floor comes to life in its stillness below my feet. I hardly realize these moments and experiences though until I reach the center of the pendulum swing. It's at that point that I write. With perspective and insight. Much like today.

No pictures of the alcove in this post. No examinations of the too tight tolerances to share, but peace knowing that the pendulum will continue to swing between the extremes, and that where ever we find ourselves on the big arc we're still moving and there's always good that can come from that.


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