This Is An Outlet of Expression

There is no reason for me to write this. I find no need.

Over the past months I have been privileged with other means of artistic expression. My thoughts manifest themselves in the world through other outlets.

Is it not the medium that matters, but the act? The act of art? The act of creating?

Is the medium merely the craft? The craft being an act that requires a certain skill set to accomplish. I am competent at the craft of writing - the craft of sequencing words in order to communicate thoughts and ideas. I am also competent at the craft of theatre - the craft of telling a story through dialogue, movement, music, sets, and costumes upon a stage. Is art that which exceeds craft? Is art the act of expression, regardless of the medium?

Yet this lonely Friday night the only company I have is words. No theatre. No dance. And I don't know how to paint.

There is no need for me to write this. Other outlets of expression await me tomorrow. The day after. If I am patient...

The honest truth is that I am not patient. So I write.

There is a need for this. I have found it.

Franco-clone

Advertising does not escape the multicultural paradigm that rules this country.

The commercial I shot today was shot in both french and english. The four principle actors had francophone doubles (or maybe we were there anglophone doubles...), while the rest of the actors were silent and need not speak french nor english.

My francophone double and I shared a jacket. Between takes we handed a green H and M fall coat back and forth.

It was odd to look upon my Francophone advertising double.

By the end of the day, I grew to despise him.

He was MY double. I was not HIS double.
He would not out perform me in this thirty second advertisement.

My Coded Closet

I am trying on many different jackets. Each one slightly similar to the one before, maybe just a different shade of a non-descript grey-green. They have crafted this ensemble with careful attention. Nothing "too much". It must look "real" or "natural". They are aiming for "Canadian", but not "too much" to seem stereotypical, but not too subtle to seem ambigiuous. These clothes in this carefully chosen combination are masculine, but young, stylish, but not chic or trendy, striking, but not offensive. The blue jeans are not too blue. The sweat shirt is new, but not too crisp. They have yet to chose the jacket.

I have been cast in a commercial. Wardobe for these things is very particular.

After selecting several options (pretty much leaving them at the place where they started), I change back into my own clothes. I sit and wait for them to let me know that I have nothing else to try on.

"Is that what you wore here today," the director asks me.
"Yes," I answer.
"I like that. It looks more real," he muses. "Try this jacket with what you wore in."
I try the jacket on. They agree this should be another option.
"When you come in to shoot on Monday, bring these clothes with you. We might want to use them."

Am I masculine, but young, stylish, but not chic or trendy, striking, but not offensive?
Or are these just the clothes that I wear?

I live in a coded world. Advertising has permeated every pore of this urban existence. Even, without me knowing it, my own closet.