Every single thing.

Last post, video production was stalled, waiting for three things:

1. Capture cam from Ben, because the one I bought broke.
2. Final Cut disk from Ben, because the application spontaneously stopped working on my computer and needed to be reinstalled.
3. Firewire cable from Ben (to connect camera to computer).

Ben and Atika came up for a visit, and Ben remembered the camera, but nothing else. We visited them in St Louis, and I remembered to grab the disk, but not the cable. So I bought the cable from Circuit City, intending to return it once I'd captured everything--thirty bucks for an item that could be had off ebay for fifteen shipped.

First night I had everything together, I started capturing right away. The problems began promptly. For a select group of tapes, the cap-cam absolutely refuses to play back sound. All the tapes from Ben's trv950, I think, maybe seven in total.

The trv950 was our longtime workhorse, the camera that documented our hardest years of riding, right up until last year, when Ben got married and we began to film a lot less. When we go out filming now, it's always for bangers, but those occasions are fewer and farther between. The trv950 footy is the stuff I had in mind for the video all along, and I've been working with everything else.

So, I captured everything I could, and I gave Ben back his camera.

Working with this small amount of footage, I edited and re-edited, tried out lots of different things. I have this dogmatic belief that focus and detachment are the essential state of mind for writing and editing. And with the right editing, anything can be made to work. After a million painstaking re-edits, I have almost seven minutes that I'm totally happy with. I guess you would call the video a "mixtape." No rider gets his own part, no names on the clips, just super tight, watch it, get fired up, go ride. That kind of thing. I even know exactly where the remaining footy will go, once I figure out how to get it captured.

However, night before last, the computer acted up, taking longer and longer to boot, and crashing sometimes, which never happened before, finally refusing to boot altogether. I suspected a bad hard drive, took it to the Apple Store for diagnosis yesterday, and my suspicion was confirmed. We were able to pull some test files off of the computer, so maybe I'll be able to back everything up. Maybe not. All I need is a six-pin-to-six-pin firewire cable, and I can use the MacBook as an external hard drive.

I went to Circuit City last night with this knowledge, eager to return my useless video-to-computer firewire cable, get my money back, and buy the new computer-to-computer cable.

Denied. Fifteen days past the limit for money-back returns. Blew that one. Well, at least I was still eligible for store credit and could exchange for the new wire.

NO. Circuit City does not stock a six-pin-to-six-pin firewire cable.

So, thirty dollar gift card! That's the update. To recap, I must now

1. Buy computer-to-computer cable.
2. Back up data.
3. Repair or replace hard drive.
4a. Best case scenario: captured video still viable.
4b. Alternate scenario: re-capture and re-edit all footage.

That would bring us back to where we were. Still need to
5. Acquire capture camera.
6. Capture remaining video.
7. Finish editing
8. Figure out how to burn a dvd.
9. Get dvd's duplicated, distributed, etc.

Part of me is surprised at how short this list is, and part of me thinks that the list is impossibly long. Again, it had been my intention to finish this before the baby's birth. I don't mind continuing to work on the project, except that our footage continues to age...

Finish on a high note?.. All of the sudden, winter is over. It's 3 a.m. and seventy degrees out.

foresight

Ben instructed me to go buy a firewire cable at Target to use until he can send me one of his spares. Later, the Target cable can be returned.

I'll try to have the cable in hand before the aforementioned disk arrives. Oh! I'll buy a head cleaner, too.

epic gamble

Ben bought a capture cam off Craigslist for seventy-five dollars, pretty much never used. Same day he brought it home, an error message occurred--"CONDENSATION, OPERATION PAUSED"--locking the camera up completely.

As he had purchased it locally, Ben went back to the seller, who agreed to refund his money. Then, on a whim, he offered her five dollars for the now valueless item; she accepted his offer.

Googling the error message proved fruitful. JVC's, it turns out, are famous for their oversensitive moisture sensors and terrible customer service. With nothing to lose, some folks had attempted to troubleshoot the problem themselves, and one website provided a hopeful solution. The site directs the camera owner to disassemble the housing and to unplug a certain wire from the circuitboard: a "hard" reset.

And with that, Ben had his five dollar, almost new, capture cam.

I was bidding low on a lot of "as-is" eBay cameras and losing, when I came across a promising Craigslist post for a JVC camcorder with error message. Asking price: $100. I inquired hopefully as to the specific model and error message, and it proved to be exactly the same as Ben's. So, same afternoon, I drove to the seller's house.

He was a teenager, and this camera was in rough shape. It had seen a lot of use. I calculated its actual value to him ($5) and its secret value to me (~$75), and made my offer: $25. "How about forty?" he countered. Next room over, within view, his mother was washing dishes and eavesdropping. I asked how much he had paid new. "Umm, about three hundred."

"It was a lot more than that," Mother chimed in, without looking up from her work. She wasn't going to let her son be taken advantage of, and she was also utterly clueless.

So I paid forty, knowing that if the hard reset worked, I had scored a tremendous deal, and if it didn't, that I had been beaten by a fifteen-year-old. But I could not have left without the camera, wondering. I had to know. That's what I was paying for, really: knowing.

...

I unplugged the wire and waited the prescribed five minutes before re-plugging, installed the battery, powered up, and no change: "CONDENSATION." Powered down, removed battery, unplugged, waited. Patiently.

After a full hour, I plugged in the cord. I installed the battery, and the camera made its familiar "Battery installed" chime. Then it chimed two more times, glitchy sounding, and then nothing.

Camera never turned on again.

...

I gave it to Ben, who intends to eBay it for scrap. In the meantime, he's loaning me his cap cam. However, Final Cut (the video editing program) has stopped working and needs to be reinstalled, and I left the disk in St Louis. Ben sent that out yesterday.

Once it arrives, I think things will move along swiftly. After everything is captured, I will throw together an "Editing Has Begun" trailer and post that up.

For the time being, I wait.

mid-February

Back in November, I had a blog entry in mind that I was looking forward to writing. It was going to be a run-down of all the gear that goes into my riding life--bike, rack, tools, pads, cameras, computer, ipod... I delayed it because I hadn't received my new camcorder yet. I was going to get my brother Ben's well-used TRV950, which had just come back from a warranty repair with all new internals. He was going to give me a good price, and I was going to pay in installments. The camera arrived at my house, and Jaime (my wife) was surprised at at the apparent wear. "How old is this thing?" she asked.

"Ummm, three or four years?"

"Why is it so heavy?"

I didn't have an answer. Previously, we had shared in the excitement of documenting our life with three ccd's, but at the price we were paying, she was expecting something in newer condition. Later that night, the camera started glitching, and I was glad for an excuse to pull out of the deal. Ben assured me that I wasn't obligated, and Jaime encouraged me to continue shopping for the perfect camera. I felt glad that I had managed to avoid what would have been a disunifying force.

Time passed, and I further appreciated that I didn't have the financial burden. The start date for my new job was delayed by a month, and on my first payday two weeks later, we learned that I am paid "in arrears"--that is, I am paid not for the most recent pay period, but for the previous pay period. And I didn't have a previous pay period yet. So it was two more weeks until a paycheck. And then we learned that we will have a child arriving on July 1st--joyous news, truly. But as our budget seemed to grow tighter and tighter, I felt blessed that I hadn't taken the camera.

The TRV950 went back for even more repairs, and Ben sold the package to TJ Henderson (pictured in the October 29 blog entry), who will make good use of it.

My old JVC camcorder had crapped out on me sometime during the summer, and I applied my $450 Circuit City credit to the purchase of my first digital camera, a Nikon D70s (see Henry and Murphy in the snow). I didn't mind giving up the JVC, as it was a pretty terrible videocamera, but I suddenly found myself without the ability to capture footage. That has been the greatest frustration--all these tapes just sitting here waiting...

Then, last month, it occurred to me that I need not wait for the funds to purchase a $1500 3ccd camcorder--I could spend fifty bucks on a capture camera right away, and that would keep me busy editing for quite some time. Potentially, I wouldn't even care if it worked as a camera. All I need is playback ability and firewire output. I'm very excited about all this. I could win an eBay auction for a dollar+shipping and get what I need.

I will do the gear run-down soon, perhaps.

The blog's original concept was to document the production of "our video." Well, there's the update for the past three months.

In other news, I finally completed my bachelor's, my new job is great, the child in Jaime's womb is now twenty weeks old and healthy, and the snow is melting.

four-piece update

S&M shot me this email yesterday, in response to my questions about the Castillo Bar:

WE STOPED MAKING THOSE AROUND 2002, WE MAKE THE REVENGE BAR, THAT’S THE SAME BAR, JUST LOWER CROSS BAR.

Thanks
DYLAN AMBROSE
Sales Representative
S&M Bikes / Fit Bike Co / Revenge Industries / Metal / Black Market


Aha. I see. Low. Lower. Lowest.

Shoe Goo

Adrien Lopez's sig has been my riding shoe of choice for three years now. (Go to C1RCA to check out a formidable selection of colorways.) Actually, I've been riding the same pair for three brakeless years. I've finally worn through both heels and a toe, the soles are folding over, and the insoles no longer stay in place, so I'm moving on. Pictured above is a pair that I've never ridden in. The sole started peeling off toward the end of my four-month foreign study in Ghana, in 2004, and I've been saving them for a rainy day project ever since.

First I wiped out all the red African dust, got the two surfaces clean as possible. Then I applied a liberal coating of Goo to top and bottom. That's a safety pin holding open the gap, while the glue dries a little. After a few minutes, I removed the pin and pressed the pieces together tightly. I don't have a vice any more, and all my attempts to improvise one failed, so I gave up, even though the directions emphasize keeping everything clamped until the glue has cured. But after sitting for two days, the shoe feels solid. Also, as shown in the top picture, the toe was deteriorating. I gave that a ShoeGoo patch as well.

I figure these oughta buy me a couple of months, at least. I'll be watching the bmxboard ForSale/Wanted forum, but I think I already spotted my next pair: $19.99 @ Target.

too much writing, not enough riding

Not the sharpest screen grab. TJ and Ben, quite happy about something... (Update: TJ has informed me that he considers this picture immensely unflattering.)


An NPR interviewer was asking Todd Field, director of the new film Little Children, about cinematography. Part of Field's response was this line: "People don't go to the movies to watch camerawork or to listen to music. People go to the movies to watch themselves." For all I know, that may have been lifted directly from his Cinema Theory 101 textbook, but I immediately started thinking of how it would apply in bike video production.

The concept has at least two distinct facets, both directly applicable. The first is the matter of the viewer's attention: is it "better" for the viewer to notice and enjoy the production of the film/video, or should production strive for "invisibility"? For example, bike riding has its inherent rhythms, and syncing those rhythms up with a musical soundtrack isn't too challenging. When done perfectly, the effect can be immensely satisfying, on an almost primal level. However, I also notice myself anticipating the beat--a portion of my attention is inevitably wondering, "Is the next shot going to sync up?" One could argue that, in this case, the production is a distraction. Camera angles that are overly clever can distract in the same way. "Wow, what a great angle," I sometimes catch myself thinking (instead of "Wow, what great riding").

The most perfect example of "invisible production" that I know of is Steve Machuga's part in Transylvania by Ty Stuyvesant. When the part finishes, it's as if I'm waking up from a dream, every time--I realize that I was completely absorbed in the video. The music (Pink Floyd), the angles, the editing all stay hidden in the background, emphasizing the riding. I don't know how Ty did it, and although I consider it a significant accomplishment, I recall someone complaining that the video put him and his friends to sleep. Funny.

While I find this "invisible production" question interesting, and while the issue is critical for Hollywood filmmakers, I think I enjoy high-quality production of bike videos almost as much as high-quality riding. (However, production quality probably needs to be carefully matched to riding quality. See if you can sit through this very well produced trailer for an upcoming "bike video." I can't.) This actually brings me right to the second point, but it's a little bit complicated to flesh out. I appreciate it if you've read this far. You've a ways to go yet. The reason I love good production and good riding is not that I want to be amazed--I love these things because of the effort involved.

Bmx is different from mainstream sports because (among other things) there is no acknowledgment for your accomplishments--no audience, no endzone, no glory, and no opponent except yourself. And we kill ourselves for what? That a select sub-culture will understand why a "hard 180" is hard? This ridiculous dichotomy--the price paid and the reward earned--is the proof of our love. Or perhaps its proof of the "artness" of bmx. In addition to the scars, scabs, and premature arthritis, we dedicate our time and money, refining the skills of shooting photos and "filming" [with videotape]. Believe me, I notice, I get psyched, seeing a locally-produced video with properly exposed 3ccd footage and no heads chopped off. I love multiple angles, and I love catching sight of another filmer or photographer, or the flash of a camera, or hearing the whirr of a motor-drive. I love footage of riders shaping quickrete trannies, waxing ledges, and sweeping public parking lots. (Jason Enns's 411bmx bio is excellent, and I can't believe I don't own a copy; catch him sledge-hammering a pesky curb for wallride access, hauling a home-made picnic table from spot to spot, fashioning a 20-foot runway of sandbags and plywoood up to some monster wooden handrail in the middle of the countryside, and trimming the same rail with a battery-powered skill-saw.)

Perhaps the most powerful proof of effort is crashing. I don't intend to sound sadistic, but I have difficulty appreciating riders that never crash. If they're not crashing... how can they really be riding at their maximum ability? I want to see the trick that took Corey Martinez twenty attempts to pull. Then we would know what the man is capable of.

Effort... Well, I'm not very good on a bike, and I crash a lot. I suppose a great deal of riders crash a lot, but many pros seem able to go a whole Metro Jam with little more than a light bail. (That's a relevant distinction, too: crashing vs bailing.) This is where I return to my starting point--that we watch videos to see ourselves. Bmx is not easy for me. I have difficulty identifying with pros for whom riding is absolutely effortless.

Consider the facial expressions that people make after pulling a trick. If the rider maintains a cold, tough grimace, or turns and flips off the camera, the non-verbal message is "I'm not breaking my cool, 'cause that was easy." Alternatively, a rider pulls his trick and a huge smile breaks across his face: "That was hard. I can't believe I did it."