Mark Bridges created the gorgeous '50s-era dresses in Paul Thomas Anderson's film about an exacting fashion designer; Ave DuVernay is one of the prominent filmmakers involved with the "Time's Up" initiative; artist Zachary Aronson uses fire to create his work.
Ava DuVernay says it's time for the 'righting of a wrong' in Hollywood
In 2018, women are done — done with a system that has allowed harassment, abuse and discrimination to fester. Done with pay inequality. Done with being marginalized.
Time's Up is a new initiative created by 300 powerful women in Hollywood. Their mission statement declares: "TIME’S UP is a unified call for change from women in entertainment for women everywhere."
We stand in solidarity with Alianza Nacional de Campesinas and women across every industry to combat abuse, harassment, marginalization, and underrepresentation. The $13m @TIMESUPNW Legal Defense Fund is just the beginning. This is not a drill. #TIMESUP https://t.co/a0qtkachdJ pic.twitter.com/B5XGy37FCv
— Ava DuVernay (@ava) January 1, 2018
"Selma" director
is among the 300 women behind Time's Up. Her company, Array Now, distributes movies by women and people of color. In her own projects – the TV series “Queen Sugar” and the upcoming Disney feature, “A Wrinkle In Time” – she is inclusive in her hiring of cast and crew. She tells The Frame's John Horn that whatever progress has been made in Hollywood has been given by the power structures that exist, and that now is the time for taking action.
There has been progress. It's been slow progress. But those gains have been given, I feel, and not quite taken. And we're in the time of taking, right? Not doling out.
DuVernay spoke on The Frame about seizing this moment – not only for women but on behalf of all people who have been marginalized by the power structure in Hollywood. And she identified what the Civil Rights movement could teach activists in Hollywood today.
INTERVIEW HIGHLIGHTS
Why equal representation in Hollywood would be "righting a wrong":
I think the very words diversity and inclusion are unfortunate because it's really just reality. The world is not as we depict on film and television – that is not real. Unfortunately, it's the case for the people who are controlling film, television and theater, but it is not a real space. So the idea that inclusion and diversity is some kind of allowance being made to open our arms to more people — no. It is a correction of an error. It is a righting of a wrong. And it is going to be done.
How this moment is a reckoning for all:
A lot of people talk about this time as a reckoning as it relates to women in the industry. And I think that's the right word. But also, for me, it's not enough. We can't just talk about women and not also talk about black and brown people, and Muslims, and different issues of gender identity. [We must] say this is the time that all of this will be on the table and all of this will be dealt with.
How to achieve pay equality in Hollywood:
It's really simple. [laughs] Everyone needs to be paid the same for the same amount of work. But there are other levels to that, some of which are legal and some of which will be done by force. And so all of this is in the works.
Why 50/50 gender equality in Hollywood by 2020 is a realistic goal:
The idea that a group of black domestic workers in Montgomery, Alabama would be able to organize themselves to turn around, or overthrow, laws and rules and behavior to be able to ride at the front of the bus, is something that would have been seen as an unrealistic goal, and yet it happened. So I don't subscribe to the idea that anything is unrealistic. Two years to demand that the industry achieve parity is, I think, kind of generous. So all things are possible.
In 'Phantom Thread,' costumes steal the show
In "Phantom Thread," Daniel Day-Lewis plays fashion designer Reynolds Woodcock, the most popular dressmaker in post-WWII London. Although he dresses movie stars, royalty and all manner of the well-to-do, he falls in love with a young waitress, Alma, who becomes his muse and romantic partner.
Costumes are an integral part of any film, but in a period drama set in a couture fashion house during the 1950s, clothes can make the movie. And the man who made many of those clothes is costume designer Mark Bridges.
He’s a veteran of the industry who has worked on eight Paul Thomas Anderson films, including "There Will Be Blood" and "Inherent Vice."
Bridges recently spoke with The Frame's host, John Horn.
Interview highlights:
On how he and Paul Thomas Anderson start their creative process:
Typically I see a script as soon as he feels ready to show it to somebody, just to get some feedback or see how it plays. I had several versions of "There Will Be Blood" or "Inherent Vice." ["Phantom Thread"] didn't change that much through a couple of different versions. About a year-and-a-half out from shooting we first sat in Paul's office. I looked at all the pictures he'd been looking at and things that were catching his eye and getting his mind going. He gave me [fashion designer Cristóbal] Balenciaga's biography to read. So you're able to go away and think about it and do your own research. We get back together every couple of months and review and then we put together a book of what we thought were the major dresses in the film for the fashion show or a client. Then we took that to Daniel about six months before shooting.
On the significance of the fashion in 1950s London:
The country was just coming out of their final amount of [war time] rationing, I think a year before, so luxury was kind of back. There were really interesting different types of designers in London at that time. There was Norman Hartnell, Hardy Amies, John Cavanagh, Michael Sherard, Digby Morton. So we looked at all of them, saw what they were doing. How they were dressing their clients for events. We wanted to figure out where Reynolds fit in that scheme of things.
On whether the fictional Reynolds Woodcock is actually a talented designer:
I think there's subjective versions of whether he's got chops. There were a lot of people at that time in the fashion world of London who we're not really familiar with today, but at the time they were popular and had a clientele and a following and a reputation for representing English couture at its best. I think [Woodcock] falls into that category. He wasn't perhaps groundbreaking as Balenciaga or Dior, but he had a kind of style that appealed to society. It worked very well, he had an artistic temperament — a charming man — and had a place in that world at the time.
On how he decided on what details would define the House of Woodcock style:
Paul and I had a meeting with Daniel once we were all in London about what the hallmarks of the House of Woodcock was. We all agreed that it would be rich colors, rich fabrics, a lot of wools from the UK, British Isles, colorful, interesting woolens, heavy laces, so those parameters were set up early on and then a lot of the design decision came from that.
On the challenge of finding period clothes versus making them from scratch:
I had gone into it thinking we would do the film the way we typically do — using real clothes. I search for the most interesting examples of a period, but what we found was that things hadn't held up so well. It's 60 years of heavy silks weighing on themselves or moths eating the woolens. There was a lot of real period clothes that weren't in good enough shape to use [for] a story about clothes just coming out of the work room. So we ended up making a lot more than I thought we were going to. Of course I'm happy about it, I'm thrilled.
On using real seamstresses in the film:
Seamstresses we taught to act was a part of our scheme in the film. There were women who we met who were volunteers and docents at the Victoria & Albert [Museum] Archive when we went to examine some gowns up-close. Paul started talking to them and they had said when they were young, one of them worked at Hardy Amies. The other one worked in a couple of different couturier shops and then went on to teach. After about 15 minutes Paul [said], "You're going to be in my movie." They ended up being the characters of Nana and Bitty. They were really invaluable as far as guiding us on the protocol of a fitting, who would do what. You can see their stitching technique. They don't [use] long threads. You can always tell when someone's an amateur because they have a huge, long thread. They just kept an eye on all of those wonderful details.
On the best part of his job:
It really is a magic moment and it is why I do this. It continues to interest me because of those moments in the fitting room where a character comes to life. Someone will put on a pair of shoes or a jacket and start to walk differently. Or underpinnings make them stand differently. We had this in this film with [Vicky Krieps' chartacter] Alma, who [is a] fisherman's daughter. I try to do my fittings in order of the characters' arc in the script. She sort of magically fit all the things that I had brought to the table. When she started putting on the couture things with the underpinnings, she became very graceful. It was a real wonderful experience working with her.
Meet an artist who paints with fire
Zach Aronson might be the only artist in the world who paints with blowtorches.
He came up with the idea for his pyrography (writing with fire) several years ago when he was a student at CalArts. One day he forgot to bring paper to class and, after wandering around for a while, found a piece of wood. He did a charcoal drawing of eyes on it and really liked the way it looked, so he continued to use wood. He experimented with different media, like fire and pencils, but then at some point he starting working only with fire.
My favorite thing about working with fire is the idea of using a traditionally destructive element to make something new and beautiful.
Aronson uses sandpaper to create different tones, but his main tools are two blowtorches:
If I have a blowtorch, the hottest point is the tip, the blue part of the flame that’ll burn the fastest. But if I hold the torch even closer to the wood, that flame splits into two parallel fine lines, which are very useful for doing detail work like strands of hair or eyelashes.
His work resonated with many passerbys on the Venice Boardwalk. From a distance they really look like charcoal drawings. The paintings are so huge that it’s hard not to stop and stare. He’s got seven birch plywood panels he’s painting on that are eight-feet tall by two-feet wide
Aronson has done some mural work, installations and theater set design, but most of his income comes from commissioned portraits. Prices for his work can go from $150 to over $7,000, depending on size.
He also creates work at events such as art walks, private galas and parties. A hallmark of his process is that he only works with live models. He loves interacting with his subjects and feeds off the energy of the crowds that gather to watch him.
I actually sometimes feel more stressed working when no one's there … that energy, that excitement that builds up [at an event] inspires me.
Miraculously, during all those live events, Aronson says he’s never burned himself nor started a fire. He insists his technique is totally safe:
I've done many art walks and festivals and live events with hundreds of people and frequently have had fire marshals come up to me but, once they see my technique, no one's ever had an issue with me doing that.
Wood selection is key to Aronson’s process. He uses redwood, white oak, birch and pine. Each has distinct qualities. After selecting a type of wood, he then chooses each individual piece for the particular wood grain itself. Oftentimes he works that natural texture into the composition of his piece.
I sort of think of my process as a collaboration with nature. I’ve always considered my pyrographs half-finished before I’ve begun just looking at the wood grain.
Aronson wasn’t a pyromaniac growing up. For him it’s not about the wow! factor or the cool edginess of fire. In fact, he’s a really calm, quiet kind of person, totally opposite from the fire breathers and eccentric circus acts you normally think of who work with flames.
I don't work with fire because I love watching things burn. I think of my process as repurposing fire, [which] gets a bad rap. Honestly, everyone talks about it burning me or setting fires or whatnot and I just think it's beautiful … if used properly.
For more on Aronson's work, check out his website.