I haven’t seen “Alice in Wonderland” yet, but I read a review in the paper yesterday that really annoyed me. The idea of film reviewing is pompous enough; this reviewer compounded it by panning the film because it is not what she wanted to see. I hear that kind of criticism a lot. It is the “if *I* were making this” school of crit. It is bullshit.

In my experience, the people who make these kind of pronouncements are the least likely to create anything individual. But they are great experts on other peoples’ work.

I’ve fallen into that one myself from time to time, and Tim Burton was a great example for me. The first time I saw “Sleepy Hollow” it did not meet my expectations and was a terrible film. I had occasion to see it again years later and marveled at how good it actually was. What kept me from enjoying it the first time was *ME*.

It can be difficult to just be open to someone else’s creative process. Tim Burton taught me a lesson I’ve kept close to me ever since.

You may have noticed that strange white stuff on the ground. It is called snow and it is one of the reasons I live in California. Philadelphia had just endured two back to back blizzards, leaving about 40 odd inches of snow on the ground. Do I know how to pick a time to visit?

So I sez to Ben Franklin, “Yo, Ben. How’s it hangin’”

He looks down and rolls his eyes. “Hey Stan, welcome back. Still drafty as hell in this hallway. I wish they would do something about it, but aside from you and few other people, no one listens to me much anymore.”

Ben is like that. He would also like a nip or two of the good stuff, but at his age, it is not the best idea.

The most famous attraction of the Franklin Institute is the Human Heart. You can walk through the heart. As a kid, I did so many times. At one point, noticing the small GE light bulbs that illuminated the interior, I thought a heart attack was caused by a burned out bulb. That’s right, isn’t it?

The original heart was a paper mache  and was a temporary exhibit, not supposed to last for more than a few months. It has been rebuilt countless times over the years as armies of eager kids and their parents climb around inside. On this visit, the Heart had obviously moved up to star billing.

There it is, in all its glory; the human heart. The entrance is up on the right at the top. Let’s take a look.

Long before “Fantastic Voyage,” many of us had the opportunity to travel inside the heart. Some found it kind of gross; others like myself, just couldn’t get enough of it. The same was true for the kids who climbed around inside while I was tromping around. Nothing like the Right Atrium to cheer up your day.

My sister was kind enough to accompany me. I guess as the oldest, she felt I should be humored from time to time, as long as I didn’t drool in public or break out in spontaneous “moon walking.” She’s a sport and I thank her.

So I’ve paid homage. I’m good for a few more years. I think I might knit Ben a scarf or something.

We’ll see.

“We get together every week…”

It also concluded,
“We are all amateurs. No one lives long enough to be anything but an amateur.”

I’m reminded of this when every two weeks this group of new friends gather for a few hours of artistic communion, drawing art to a common theme to produce a community comic in the allotted time. it is great stuff to witness. These magicians do make something out of nothing and they do it with great skill. I appreciate their kindness in welcoming my scribbles as part of their work. I am not a draftsman, but I may be one day if I hang around these folks long enough.

My time sense is really screwed up so I’m wide awake in the middle of the night and ready to crash at 7:30PM. Getting better but still disorienting.

As I mentioned elsewhere, you CAN go home again, but it is a parallel dimension where you are still somehow a kid regardless of your age. My relatives have this image of me from my childhood and they are relating to me based on that. This used to annoy me, but I suppose I have mellowed. Now I find it kind of amusing.

Interesting to me how selective memory is and how malleable. Details of family stories transform, vanish or take on a previously unknown significance. Everyone writes the legends of their own lives and those around them. How can biographies be anything other than fiction or “enhanced realities?”

This is why I find “fiction” so significant. When stories are re-told, the details that survive, the details enhanced and the meaning of the story twist and turn down through time with astonishing flexibility. HOW they change has always fascinated me.

I was present at some of the events discussed in family stories. My version varies greatly. Who is to say mine is any more accurate than anyone else’s?

This has been a great month for me to get to know a lot of people in the local cartoonist  scene. I’m pretty impressed with their talent.  The online hangout is

http://cartoonistconspiracysf.wordpress.com/

The past two meetings have been collaborative exercises. The most recent one can be seen here:

http://issuu.com/cartoonistconspiracysf/docs/timecop_ccsf_1-28-10

The basic idea is each person starts with a single panel and then passes it to their right to the next artist. Then, with two panels to go, the next artist to the right begins the process of reconciling the pages to each other. The last artist has the transition panel from one page to the next.

It is a fun exercise but it makes for a pretty rugged narrative. Still, the random nature of it has its charm.

I felt the 3D was used in service to the story, rather than the cheap “looky-loo” strategy of many 3d filmmakers.

My other observation,  perhaps an expansion on the first,  is that Cameron keeps the movie mostly below the picutre plane with very small uses of pop outs into the audience. This gives the more traditional” looking through a picture window” effect of old stereo slides. Rather than breaking the fourth wall, Cameron seems to understand the importance of maintaining that illusion in service to better immersion. It works quite well. Nice to see intelligent 3D.

I’ve been spending a lot of time at the new Borderlands Cafe on Valencia Street. The owners are people I’ve come to know over the years of hunting for good books. The place is bright, open, pleasant. Big tables.

In addition to the opening night potluck, I recently attended a meetup for the website io9 at the cafe.

The place has a lot of potential as a center for the kind of creative activity that interests me a lot.

The coffee is inexpensive. They insist it is not the best on the street. They also say, “No WIFI.” They are not catering to the laptop crowd.

A coffeehouse where people sit around and TALK rather than do “homework?”  Go figure…

It seems like the more I know, the more complex and challenging the 3D becomes. This latest piece is part of a series of urban portraits of the Valencia Corridor, the spiritual home of “Not Quite Here.”

The portraits themselves are quite lovely. In addition to art prints, they will all be used as backgrounds in the second volume of the series.

Just putting the finishing touches on this one.