Peter: Film Director, Hockey person

Holy shit! Peter made a goddamn movie! Now, we all have our little scrubber friends who make their little three-minute long, pathos-filled montage of winos and Autumn leaves. Well, those movies suck because they're boring and stupid, and the friends who made them are your flakiest, most douchebaggie friends, the kind you know will drift out of your life after a year or two.

This is not that sort of movie, and Peter, while a douchebag, is not flaky.

Because Peter made a goddamn MOVIE that PLAYED IN THEATERS on SCREENS that HAS JOKES and it even has a star in it, albeit one that you might not of heard of (Jim Gaffigan!).

The film is called "No Sleep 'Til Madison". It's about some thirty something guys, roadtripping across Wisconsin during the state high school ice hockey playoffs.

Of course it's actually about death and homosexual longing, as are all films. You can check out the official site here.

So come, join me as I ask Peter about his film, his love of Fon du Lac and his son's thing for the Wicked Witch.

G: When did you write the screenplay?

P: I wrote the script with Erik Moe, another Wisconsin refugee, back in the summer of 1999. Erik had a TV development deal at the time with Universal Studios in LA. We'd spend all week on the phone exchanging notes, then I'd fly down from San Francisco on weekends, where we'd hole up in his studio lot office and write like the wind. It was a fun, amazingly productive process. We'd take turns at the keyboard while the other person paced and acted out lines. We were surprisingly dedicated to the task, and a first draft of the script was written very quickly.

G: Was it based on anyone you know or heard about? Do people really give a shit about Wisconsin High School hockey?

P: The script was inspired by our mutual obsession with Wisconsin High School Hockey, an obsession that has proven difficult to explain to the uninitiated. We've had people tell us it's just an exaggerated form of homesickness. Others have explained it as a longing for a highly romanticized, less follicularly-challenged version of ourselves. I think it's the uniforms. Whatever the reasons, Erik and I are devoted to high school hockey, sometimes to the chagrin of the coworkers we harangue into participating in our annual February Madness High School Hockey Pool. So one night I called Erik with a brilliant idea: Why not fly back to Wisconsin and follow the state tourney for a week? Take in games in exotic locales like Eagle River and Fon du Lac? He too thought the idea inspired; our wives did not. So I came up with Plan B: Let's take a long a video camera and make a documentary about the journey. Erik went one better: Let's make a movie. And that's when we started mapping out a story.

G: How did you get Jim Gaffigan?

P: Erik had worked with Jim on some hilarious but never-aired TV spots, where Jim played a guy so obsessed with the Energizer bunny that his whole life revolved around preparing for the day when the Bunny finally ran out of gas. Spots showed Jim taking drum lessons, sewing his own bunny suit, etc. Swap high school hockey for the Energizer bunny and you had Owen Fenby, the hero of our movie. So Erik sent Jim the script, and he was very enthusiastic about giving it a go. The glasses Owen wears in the movie are the same glasses Jim wore in high school.

G: If Tom Hanks is "A" list, what letter would you assign Gaffigan? Like a "C"?

P: At the time Jim was an extremely successful commercial actor with a burgeoning stand up career and a development deal with David Letterman's Worldwide Pants. Not a household name, but definitely in the "where have I seen that guy before?" category. Since then his stand up career has really taken off, and he’s getting a lot of acting work, too. His Comedy Central special airs all the time, and his DVDs and CDs are top sellers. He’s friggin’ hilarious, by the way, and a real pleasure to work with.

G: Which film festivals has N.S.T.M appeared in?

P: No Sleep appeared in 17 festivals, but none of the “famous” ones. The festival circuit was yet another bizarre chapter in No Sleep’s history. In one city we'd have people lined up around the block to see the movie; another was held in a dinner theatre where we drank ourselves senseless while the only other people in the audience, an elderly couple from Marco Island, Florida, shouted nacho orders to a waitress.

G: Did you finance it with credit cards?

P: The credit card approach to filmmaking is never a good idea. Your chances of ever seeing a return on the money invested in a truly independent film are so remote, that it’s just plain stupid to put your financial future in jeopardy just so you can stave off getting a real job for another six months. My advice: If you can't get the financing without credit cards, write a book instead. Or shoot on video (an option that was not readily available when we started production). We tried to be fairly responsible about the money situation. We sold shares in a limited partnership. Luckily, the Blair Witch Project had just come out, which made it easier for to raise funds. We were able to meet our production goal fairly quickly, thanks to a lot of incredibly generous friends and family members (none of whom talk to us anymore).

G: What indie films did you get inspiration from?

P: A few weeks before shooting, Erik and I flew back to Wisconsin to start scouting locations. It was February in Wisconsin, and we were just starting to realize how in over our heads we were, when we saw Chris Smith's American Movie at the Point 6 Cinema. For 107 glorious minutes, we completely forgot about our own problems and instead laughed at Mark Borchardt’s attempts to make his own low budget film. Talk about your inspiration. It’s a fantastic documentary. And made in Wisconsin, no less.

G: What other sort of writing have you done? More screenplays?

P: Prior to No Sleep, I had done some other screenwriting on two other indie films: the voiceover narration for a film called Road Kill with Jennifer Rubin, and a co-writing credit on This Space Between Us with Jeremy Sisto and Poppy Montgomery. Erik has written a bunch of TV pilots and had several screenplays optioned. We recently collaborated on another screenplay, set in the dot com glory days of the late 90s, but after some initial interest, it’s currently in the dead letter office.

In terms of other writing, Erik has written a cult favorite “cartoon” book called Tales of a Young Urban Failure (Note from Greg:a funny, though sadly out of print, book), while I've had some success in the fiction genre with a few short stories. Lately I've been trying out some memoir-type pieces in the David Sedaris meets Frederick Exley vein, and I have this idea of writing a book-length memoir of the making of No Sleep, which I think could be a movie in itself. I understand it's a total cliché: the copywriter aspiring to be "real" writer thang, but it keeps me from growing annoyingly bitter.

G: You ever play D&D?

P: I have never played D&D, though I will admit to some intense sessions of knee hockey played in the basement of Ivo Knezevic's childhood home. Not too nerdy, unless you consider the participants were all in their early thirties, a few made posters promoting their imaginary teams, and one of them cried when he lost in overtime.

G: I really, really want to include the bit about your son getting a boner watching Sleeping Beauty

P: First of all, it's not Sleeping Beauty; it's Wizard of Oz. Second, it's not Dorothy who causes the erection; it's the Wicked Witch of the West. Third, there's nothing strange about a four-year-old getting a boner every time he sees the witch; it's a testament to the power of film, and of man's innate desire to chase the "bad girl."

Hugh: illustrator, anarchist, cider drinker, bike rider

In this entry friend Hugh offers up a mea culpa of sorts for the WORST THING HE'S EVER DONE.

I've know Hugh for 14 years or so. He was the art director of the US office of Lonely Planet Publications, a travel guide publisher that I graced with my incompetence and militant laziness in the early '90s.

(Really, I was a fucking liability at that place. That's a couple of blog entries itself.)

Hugh has since tranformed into OMAC, a One Man Army Corps of activism, illustration and dressing like an old man. Not one to sit by and shake his fist at the TV (he doesn't own one), Hugh consistently goes out and DOES STUFF to change things that are rotten and for that I'm proud that I know him. A singular chappie. You can see some samples of his boombastic illustrations over at Hugh Illustration.

Here's THE WORST THING HUGH HAS EVER DONE.

Hugh:

You wanted to know the worst thing I ever did, so here it is:

In the Year of Our Lord '91, I was finishing up my last semester of art school. There was this guy I knew, a pretty good painter, we'll call him "Greg". For some reason, I was a complete and total shit to Greg that year, and I've been carrying around the guilty weight ever since.

I guess Greg got on my nerves a bit, although we were friends and were part of the same scene. His only crime, if I remember correctly, was speaking confidently and enthusiastically about his own work, to whomever would listen. I think my own self esteem was so low at that point that I just couldn't stand to hear anyone else toot their own horn.

As our senior art show approached, Greg was increasingly MIA. When he did show up, he would have some hot girl on his arm (Greg got a lot of attention from the ladies, another fact that probably drove me mad with envy), and he would do more talking than painting.

Did I mention that at this time I was recovering from an accident and was suffering from chronic back pain and insomnia? I was taking pretty heavy doses of Vicodin. So, hopefully that background sets the stage for my unforgivable behavior. I was jealous of Greg's confidence, resented what I viewed as his lack of commitment, and I was emotionally unstable thanks to my accident.

What happened was that I destroyed Greg's art. I feel terrible about it. I don't know what came over me, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I actually thought it was funny, only I was the only one that was laughing.

See, we were supposed to clean our art out of the common spaces in preparation for the senior show. Signs had announced for weeks that any art left behind would be destroyed. Greg, of course, never picked up his art, and when it came time to paint the walls of the studio, I happily ran a roller full of white paint right over three or four nice paintings. Real nice paintings that must have taken a lot of time to create. I remember one self portrait that got it pretty bad.

Once I saw how horrified other people were by my actions, I began to feel embarrassed, then guilty. Then afraid. Greg was actually a pretty big guy, and about 10 years older than me. And he drove a motorcycle. Suddenly, I really regretted ruining his paintings.

When he confronted me, he didn't start a fight with me (a lucky thing, since I was on crutches at the time). But he did raise his voice, and the worst part was that he told me in no uncertain words how much I had hurt him. "I can't believe I actually thought we were friends", he said. "But now I know that you never liked me."

***

Last month, my neighbors were having a party in the backyard. I opened my back door to join them, and who was standing right there in my backyard but Greg himself. I froze. I remembered his last words to me, all of 15 years ago, and I really didn't know what to do.

But I mustered the courage to go talk to Greg, and we had a really nice talk. I tried to apologize for my crime, and he tried to act gracious about the whole thing. Greg is now a successful painter. He has a gallery and has done hundreds of large scale, really awesome paintings. It was great to re-connect with him, but nothing can really take away the stain of what I did. I guess I just have to live with it.


H.

Robert Hardgrave, Painter

Robert Hardgrave is a Seattle based artist who paints some very dark, cartoonish (not in a bad way) paintings, kind of in the Giant Robot aesthetic. You can see Robert's work here.

When I started the email interveiw, Robert was coming off the high of a recent 24 hour painting marathon. We chatted about death metal, all night painting orgies and using disease as a muse. Technically, I don't know Robert. This was done for my Suzanne's blogazine/online gallery BEHOLDER. Jesus, cut me some slack already.



GREG: This 24 hour paint-o-thon sounds interesting. What was it, and did you gradually go insane over the length of the event? Was absinthe served?

ROBERT: The 24hr marathon was a blast. 18 artists from a wide variety of styles participated. We were placed in a building and encouraged to produce as much work as we could in a 24hr period. Under the agreement we were only really required to make 4 pictures. The energy in that building was incredible. Everyone worked so hard and it was very inspiring. In the end I made 8 completed pieces, but have 4 pieces which are almost done which I can now work on at my leisure. They were serving drinks for a while, but I chose not to drink to keep my energy up.

G: Hmmm, probably a good thing. Looking at your work, there's a heavy graphic feel to it, very illustrative. It reminds me of Aubrey Beardsley's Yellow Book illustrations, or some of Jim Woodring's more decadent stuff.

R: I have studied both of their work. Especially Jim Woodring. I corresponded with him a couple of times 10 years ago.He sent me these handwritten letters with little drawings in them. I love how black ink really makes colors pop. Clean lines and high contrast are my vice. I suppose I have a propensity for work with a more graphic feel, and prefer handmade qualities.

G:Other than "art school", can you trace your aesthetic back to any early inspirations... pop culture, high art, or whatever?

R:I never went to art school. I did get a "graphic design" degree in 2000, but the illustration part of the program was completely glossed over. Drawing has for a long time been a great source of comfort. As a kid I was given a Walter Lantz animation lesson book that inspired me quite a bit. I still have that book. The line work in that book was spectacular. Other than that book, art and I were never formally introduced, until I was in my early 20's. I moved to Seattle in 1992 which is when I started to truly explore art. I then absorbed as much as I could, from Peter Bagge's Hate comics, to Byzantine icons, to Dan Seagrave's death metal album covers. I am still a bit insatiable.

G:About Death Metal... on your site bio, you mention you're a death metal aficionado, which is rad. Do you listen to death metal while painting?

R:Indeed. Complex rhythms, riffs, and incessant beats are great for the work flow. I'm probably pretty funny to watch work. I really get into the music while I work.

G:Yeah, I guess Matthew Barney is Death Metal fan, too. I'm not sure how down with it Bjork is. My favorite Metal album cover is Judas Priest's "Screaming For Vengeance", the one with the giant mechanical raptor.

R:That is a great album and that cover is killer.

G: I like how the animals-of-prey-as-mechanical-dealers-of-violent-death theme you might see on a Dio album gets turned on its head to make it somehow cheery, almost Yellow Submariney. But I digress. Next question: your subjects are flat out grotesque. You freely borrow features from a variety of species, move eyes to cheeks, noses to forehead, it's very surreal, very H.P. Lovecraft. It's especially true when the painting is on wood... it starts to feel much more like an artifact of something someone glimpsed, rather than a fiction. Do you think sense of horror ever comes into play in your work? Do you even creep yourself out?

R:Maybe make myself laugh. Mixing things up is enjoyable. Everyone seems to be mixed up anyhow. I just try to make interesting drawings. Most of the work symbolizes experiences, people, or something else personal. It's kind of how I filter life. Which ones do you find horrific?

G:The Cancerland Series creeps me out. I'm guessing it's because this series is your reaction to surviving cancer. Knowing that wmakes it emotional immediate. How much does your experiences with disease inform your work?

R:The Cancerland series were all made during chemotherapy sessions. The last few sessions were at home and the drugs were pumped in over a 4 day period. A backpack, which housed the drugs, ran for four days. There were tubes running from the battery operated pumps to my portocath, a device placed in my chest. All of those drawings are honest depictions of how I felt. It was those drawings that helped me connect to a part of my brain that I don't feel I had tapped into prior. Since then, my work has become more expressive, mostly because of what I learned while being sick. I appreciate life a great deal more, and am doing exactly what I want to be doing, which is making drawings and paintings. Medication and scar references still seep into my work, but I try to pull from current experiences to make work about.

G:You're work is just detailed enough to be lush, without getting claustrophobic. How do you know when to stop?

R:Experience I guess. I limit my palette to just a few colors and I use a lot of repetition with slight differences to keep it interesting.

G:Who are the figures in your paintings?

R:If I told you that, they wouldn't be mysterious any longer. I can tell you that not all of the figures represent people. Does that help?

G: Are they evil?

R:Evil characters are always more interesting don't you think?

G: Are you capturing a moment?

R:Not really a moment, but more how I feel about a situation.

G:Do you have an internal narrative as you're painting?

R: No, but I like to make pictures that feel like there might be a narrative.

G: Thanks Robert. That was very interesting.

R: My pleasure. Thank you