Life on camera
Well, I had a camera crew in my house this week. I was coordinating and video project at work, and we needed a house where we could shoot both interior and exterior footage. Almost before thinking, I volunteered my house. I immediately began re-considering the sanity of such an offer, but it was too late to back out.
Part of me was sure that the director would come out to scout the location and say, "This place is a dump! There's no WAY we're shooting here!" However, he seemed to think it would be all right, and everything was set for Thursday morning. On Thursday morning, a big white van, several cars, and a HUGE truck full of equipment arrived. Yikes. Men tromped through my house with BIG lights, screens, cameras, and other paraphenalia. I think my electrical circuit got tripped a few times. People were running around, hoisting equipment and eating doughnuts. I alternated between hoping that these guys didn't trash the place and praying that the cameras didn't pick up the cobwebs in the corner or my shoddy drywall patch job.
We shot a few hours of video before the crew decided they had what they needed. Then, like bedouins in the desert, they packed up their gear and disappeared. After I swept the kitchen floor, it was as if they'd never arrived. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
Of course, I did notice later that they left a large black screen on some kind of heavy-duty metal stand in the back yard. I imagine it'll make a great screen for my sun-weary camelias this summer . . .
Part of me was sure that the director would come out to scout the location and say, "This place is a dump! There's no WAY we're shooting here!" However, he seemed to think it would be all right, and everything was set for Thursday morning. On Thursday morning, a big white van, several cars, and a HUGE truck full of equipment arrived. Yikes. Men tromped through my house with BIG lights, screens, cameras, and other paraphenalia. I think my electrical circuit got tripped a few times. People were running around, hoisting equipment and eating doughnuts. I alternated between hoping that these guys didn't trash the place and praying that the cameras didn't pick up the cobwebs in the corner or my shoddy drywall patch job.
We shot a few hours of video before the crew decided they had what they needed. Then, like bedouins in the desert, they packed up their gear and disappeared. After I swept the kitchen floor, it was as if they'd never arrived. A place for everything, and everything in its place.
Of course, I did notice later that they left a large black screen on some kind of heavy-duty metal stand in the back yard. I imagine it'll make a great screen for my sun-weary camelias this summer . . .
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