I just spent 10 hours last night editing a 3-second clip that still turned out subpar. But at least I learned a new concept around masking, distortion, and animation within Final Cut Pro. The concept has been something on my mind for the last couple of years, ever since I saw a travel video that incorporated it.
Now, if you told me to work a job for 10 hours last night, I would have never done it. But because it was my own choice, the time flew by. I had full creative control. I didn’t need to do it, I could have stopped at any time. It was not productive of me. But somehow, I felt like it was worth it. I needed to know how the effect was created. And I needed to learn how to do it myself, to create the magic.
I’m starting to notice this is a common theme in my life. To do my best to “create magic.” Stemming probably from my love of fantasy books and movies as a child, I have always been fascinated by things that seem impossible. Things you need to take a second look at, to admire their beauty. Things that you can’t wrap your head around. “How did he or she do that?” If I ever have that question, it becomes insatiable. I need to know, how can I create such magic? What is the science? And then that evolves. It turns into, how can I create my own spin? How can I take concepts, themes, techniques, and create something that no one else has seen? That is art to me. Creating magic in music, visuals, anything.
My reading/watching fantasy applied to playing sports when I was young. I watched highlight reels of Jordan and Messi growing up, and every time I played Basketball/Soccer, I wanted to have the “magical moment” of hitting the game-winner. Free/Penalty kicks in soccer were particularly adrenaline-rushing. That moment in the game where the ref blows the whistle, coach symbols to you to take the kick, the crowd (however small, mostly parents) hold their breath, every now and then spouting words of encouragement…and all in an instant, you tune everyone out. You pick up the ball and rotate it in your hands to find the perfect pedestal on the grass for it to rest. Sometimes you dig your foot into the grass in front of the ball to give it additional elevation. This is routine, this is the science. The balance needed for the art. You take the same amount of steps back and to the left, as always, run up and kick the ball with the same form that you trained/practiced with thousands of times. But in that moment of routine, in that science, there is the art/grace. Putting the ball in the “far corner, upper 90” away from the soccer team’s wall, out of the goalies’ reach. There’s something special about being the skinny, 90 pounds soaking wet, short kid that no one expects, pulling up from +20 yards and drilling it in the back of the net. That feeling was magical.
When I entered high school, my parents made me sign up for gym class. Assuming that I wouldn’t make any team sports (I was no longer scoring goals or taking the free kicks for soccer), they wanted me to “stay active.” During gym class, we had a section on dancing. I hadn’t danced for years, ever since the “potty dance” incident. That last time was engrained in my memory. I remember proudly telling my sister I could beat her in a “dance-off.” She confidently accepted and went on to perform her ballet routine. When it was my turn, I tried my best Michael Jackson impersonation, shaking my legs like a dead fish. The reaction from my sister and the other sister (who was the judge): “Looks like you have to go the bathroom. That’s a potty dance!” Needless to say, I stopped dancing for a while, and ironically enough, the sister who won became a professional ballerina.
Well, now back to the freshman dance class. It’s been years since I danced (there also had not been a wedding in the family for a while), and now all of a sudden, there is this section in gym class where I’m forced to. No matter, I was born in a time where “trying” was labeled uncool. In school, I would always secretly study for tests. Partly due to fear from my parents and mostly due to my intrinsic perfectionist nature, I had to get an A or bust. But I couldn’t let anyone else know that. It had to be natural. I was just a “Michael Ross” and could consume knowledge like no one you’ve ever seen. Math class would start, and I would appear asleep on my desk. My friend Deandre would wake me up and ask: “You study for this?” To which my sarcastic response was, “There’s a test today? I don’t have time for that.” Outside of test days, when I had a question, I wouldn’t ask. I’d just spend an extra hour outside of class figuring out the answer. Better waste the time on my own dime rather than be labeled a “trier” or worse, ask a question that was obvious and be labeled dumb. All this to say, yes “being successful” and smart was always good, but trying in order to get it,? Uncool. Long ramble short – with dancing, I didn’t need to try. None of the guys in my class really did. Dancing was a girl’s thing. Why waste our time? So it was as a 14-year-old boy with a teacher who didn’t really care what we did, as long as the district paid his pension. Music turns on, teacher gives us time to “feel the beat,” girls are trying to one-up each other, guys are standing awkwardly around (every now and then trying to flirt with the girls)…and then, out of the corner of my eyes, I see 2 guys actually dancing. One of them was my friend, Stefan. In a split second, I see him fall over one of his knees to the floor, and somehow magically spin and pull himself back up simultaneously, without ever using his hands. The timing was perfect – right at the drop of the song.
How the fuck did he do that?
I was hooked. I asked him a million questions, went home, googled “how to pin drop,” and practiced for weeks, using my bed frame for support and thanking God that my parents had carpet on the floor to make the knee hurt a little less.
That pin drop move was the gateway into the addiction I now still have for dancing. But the catalyst, the thing that would propel me into obsession, was the YouTube video, “Pumped Up Kicks.” About 6 months after the pin drop incident, I stumbled across the video, and had another “oh shit” moment. Marquese Scott looked inhumane. I remember showing it to my Dad, and he didn’t even believe it was real. “They have technology and editing to slow/speed up movements, and make waves through the body,” he said. That was it. Scott was so good, even my Dad thought the video was edited. I was sold. I needed to create this magic. For the next several years, I watched YouTube videos and danced every day. Once I learned the general concepts (waving, tutting, popping, body isolation, etc) I realized that things truly were unlimited. I could apply my own twist to things, and come up with my own moves that no one has ever seen.
This magic creation has continued in my life – learning card tricks, writing/producing my own music, starting businesses, and now editing videos with effects. In all of these things, productivity was never the goal. Honestly, mastery wasn’t even the priority. I just had an insatiable curiosity to 1) learn how the trick is done 2) Perform the trick for others 3) Create my own tricks that no one has ever seen. To keep the magic alive. To do something that seemed impossible, that no one expected from me. For it’s in those brief, fleeting moments where I can take a finite thing, and make it infinite in a small way.
10 hours on a video edit is a small price to pay for that.
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