This is simply a handfull of shots put together for testing 3 things: • a new mini rig set – though it’s a bit pretentious to call that a rig • a tweaked to taste Vashi Nedomansky’s VashiMorphic40 template • and incorporating LUTs to my workflow, in this case Fujifilm Eterea
Thanks to my dear gifted André Tasso =)
also thanks to Vashi and TrackZillas
It was in Berlin 9th of November 1989, the day the ”Mauer” (the wall) came down. At this time I was a film student at the Berliner film school DFFB (German Film and TV Academy). We were living with my recently born son and my wife on top of the Berliner ”escape museum” at Checkpoint Charlie. To maintain my studies and my family I was part time working as a camera assistant for the news department of the ZDF (German second TV channel), but the correspondent studio was based in the east side of Berlin. In the Ex DDR.
This morning I took my car, drove through the checkpoint, 500 meters further on, to our east side studios, smiled to the STASI (east Germanys secret service) guys just in front on the other side of the street, who were always starring at us through their windows, and went into the studio.
As you know, these were troubled days. Everybody in the studio knew, that in any moment something really heavy could happen. And it happened in the afternoon, when East German top politician Guenter Schabowski suddenly announced in this famous press conference that any citizen of East Germany (DDR) could freely cross from now on the border to the West.
The Sony Betacam cameras in 1989 didn’t have an image stabilizer and the tripods were shaking as we were filming one of world human history most important moments.
In the evening with friends we went to Moritzplatz in Kreuzberg and were watching the crazy crowd coming out of the East. That was very very impressing and moving, how all these people came out from there, crossing over to their beloved free West, expecting from Capitalism who knows what dreams. Some of the people who were welcoming them on the West side were showing up Bananas, as an ironic symbol of what was waiting for them in the West (in East Germany you couldn’t buy Bananas in these times). Berliners can be quite sarcastic.
But for me the thing that marked that very day forever happened later in the night: We went to our always Bar, the Ex and Pop, between Kreuzberg and Schoeneberg, run by Harry Hass (”Harry Hate”, a genius writer of the dark Berliner scene) and his wife Evelyn. It was an emblematic Berliner Bar, in these times it was THE Bar. The first decoration when they had opened the Bar, has been burning the interior down and leaving it like this. The guys from the Bad Seeds (Nick Cave), Einstuerzende Neubauten, Die Haut etc., were oftentimes around, and playing there. So, that night the Ex and Pop was packed with people, everybody was there.
People were crying tears, when Bruno a neighbor and friend of the Bar, a mentally disabled man was singing old german songs accompanied by his accordion on the small stage. Bruno was found as a baby in the streets of Berlin right after the war (a ”Findelkind”) after his prostitute mother had abandoned him. He was raised in several orphanages for mentally disabled people. Some might remember him, he was the main actor in Werner Herzogs amazing film about that child that was found in a pig stall after having been living there abandoned for over 20 years, the film is called The enigma of Kasper Hauser.
There couldn’t be a better guy to express everybody’s overwhelming feelings of this moment.
And then it happened: the door opened and a dozen Skinheads dropped in and jumped on the stage, pushing Bruno aside. They were Nazi-Skins from the East! Can you imagine? They had just crossed the border for the first time in their life’s and were screaming, how happy they were, that they finally found a free place were they make ”real and true German music”!!!
And then they started to sing THEIR German songs…!
Oh, boy, they got it all wrong. For a few seconds people were shocked to freeze starring at this surrealistic scenery.
Tiny little Harry Hass was the first: he jumped over the Bar onto the stage, punched the main big Nazi-Skin guy straight into his face, through him down the stage and what happened then ended up in a huge and massive mess.
The man has a pig. They go for a walk. The pig never do his stuff in the gardens. The man carries plastic bags for collecting pig‘s stuff. The pig is a ‘porco preto’ and is not going to grow more. The man says the pig is not happy till he’s got his ass cleaned. The pig‘s name is Porco (pig). The man‘s son gave him the pig. The pig is a very sensitive animalman says. The man is a fisherman and he says Porco likes fish… a lot. Man sweares he’s never eating the pig. gashô
The little mirror outside the hall
between the bouncing rays of light
left by a hurry someone told
lubricated and snorting constantly
consonants made of pure truth
ja ja já
Then you came, you;
unexpected crawling from within
the hall itself bended
and extended my arm too much
too much too much too much
too much too
That was not
what I was
anywhere lost anyway child.
Now the thought of the memory
blinking inside a jar
beside the semi-darken hallway
makes me want
not to go back
“Gain butt harder!”
My mouse is feeling sad
my house is made of sand
my nose is full of crap
my words not mine
Mind exploding blooded confetti
orgasm coperativism quarter inch
whole flavoured death wishes
refucking inside a moths’ brain
“That’s how you feel?”
what an awesome weep cream
passage to hell you’re delivering man!!!
I could use your skin to wrap me up at night
then for sure, no doubt,
I’d dream about all these worlds
making sense pass the hall
to the right, skip the shards
drink the light, then straight
reaaaallly straight forward
then free, then die
the come back
the coma back
then you kiss me
the kiss you
then we die
then we’re free
to come back
without knowing each other
Hello there my fellow bloggers, friends, lost cats, social security prosecutors, training chimps, aliens on detour, horny underground supervisors, cashiers, mummies, molotov addicts, ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends, illiterate secretaries, relentless enemies, mommies, drug dealers on vacations, boat constructors, even layers!!!!
It is with wetted overjoy that today I bring to your terminal doorstep this fantastic project, La Macchina Volante (shhhiiff ouuughhh guuuaauuu multiple and cosmo-un-polite echoes of captivated surprise) and the healthy wish from a talented group of musicians and friends to record the album O Circo, so they can keep spreading the music everywhere needed =) and beyond
For being able to surf over my tsunami of truffles and getting here, much oblige, what I still dare to ask from you is watch the video, hit the like button (vimeo account needed) and if you feel it’s unworthy, je je, share it
Câmera //////////////////////////////////////////// Max Rosenheim * NCN Objects animation \\\\\ Daniela Silvestre, Cristofili, Jaco Loredo e Max Rosenheim Edition /////////// Jaco Loredo, João Abreu, João Firmino e Max Rosenheim * NCN Sound design \\\\\ Jaco Loredo, João Abreu, João Firmino e Max Rosenheim * NCN Soundtrack /////////////// La Macchina Volante – O Circo / Segura, Zé Sé (LMV e Selton) / Diógenes de Sínope Postproduction \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Max Rosenheim * NCN
THANKS ////// Biuli, Daniela, Chiara, Paulo, TrackZillas e todo o pessoal da Babilônia \\\\\\
If after all and despite my ill mannors you happen to like the project and want to buy the album or contribute in any poetic-flower-form, including digital freudian frozed pee, check the crowdfunding at
Running time 57′/ mono – recorded with RecForge for android
Participants and much enjoyed:?lex, André, Antonio, Bernardo, Joana, Biuli, Claudio da Silva, Crickets, Dani, Gabriela, Gui, Guys asking smoking paper, Ellen, Ida, Johny, Luisa, Marta R., Masters of Chai, Max, Nuno M., Paulo, Runchi, D. Simi, Vania, Vp
We do, we do we do we do, redo We do not choose the things that touch us We do not choose the things that touch us They just do
I walk through the empty city I walk the city through, like a ghost All the friends that I meet want somethin’ What could they want from a ghost? Walk through the empty city Walk the city through, like a ghost In the desert
There is like a caress Like a rain caress Descending from the sky There is like a caress of rain Descending from the sky And I’m so shy I can’t stop walking If I stop I’m dead
g a s h ô
May I find monsieur Lou Reed playing some dirty chords at hell gates