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Every Monday, Joe posts answers to questions he receives over at the Frankophiles Forum. Ask your question now, and come back Monday to see if it was answered.

March 5, 2007

How are you feeling? Well, I hope...
Milosz

A. Hi Milosz. When I first heard from you years ago, I was reading the books of Czeslaw Milosz. I found his work inspiring and drew ideas from it for my show and wondered if you were an attorney in his family preparing a lawsuit against me for plagiarism. Anyway, I appreciate your concern about my health, as well as your good wishes. I'm doing well and hope you are, too.

Kate - Who is she, really?
spblat

A. I'm not sure I really know, splat. She was very complex. And, of course, I can't tell you her real name. It wouldn't be right and, besides, it could lead to my appearance in Los Angeles Superior Court being grilled by Gloria Allred - no backup band, no dancers, no script, no hope.

Even though I haven't seen or heard from "Kate" in six years, I would like to say a few words about her because she really was an unforgettable and extraordinary person. She was tall and beautiful, a former model and accomplished ballet and musical theater dancer. She was also smart, high-spirited and adventurous and she led me into worlds I otherwise never would have experienced.

One comes to mind at the moment: We used to take Sunday drives up the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) from Los Angeles to Santa Barbara. Early one afternoon, as we drove through Oxnard (is there a more unpleasant name for a town than that?), we passed a small, nondescript storefront church in the middle of a block of rundown businesses. "Kate" asked me to pull over so that we might investigate. The church, smaller than a liquor store, was windowless and dark, its rows of folding metal chairs and scary Mexican religious statuary lit by flickering votive candles. We spoke with the proprietor, who told us about the church's history and the kinds of events that took place there. It was something I would never have done on my own, and it was one of the many interesting detours we took because of "Kate's" inquisitive ways. We visited a few more times and even whimsically spoke of getting married there.

At the time I knew her, "Kate" was making a stressful transition from her career as an actress to one as a screenwriter, while I was absorbed in the madness of writing, recording and mixing weekly one-hour radio shows for KCRW. We were both - how else can I put it? - f***'d up. She'd been abandoned as an infant to foster care where she'd been terribly traumatized and I had my own set of problems and (as many of you already know) parts of our tumultuous story appear in the Karma Series. Those shows were lived and written moment by moment in an obsessive frenzy. I had no idea whether I was creating self-indulgent radio garbage or work that was worthy. I still don't, because I rarely revisit shows from the past. But the Karma Series still has a weird dreamlike feeling for me. In spite of the painful and sometimes awful things that happened between us, I still think of "Kate" and always will.

Hi Joe, I'm an artist using recorded phone conversations in some of my work. Sometimes, I encounter the following dilemma: I'm attempting to record natural conversations, without pretense, yet the moment I inform participants that they are being recorded, I sense the loss of that very candidness (or truthfulness, or sincerity) that I was seeking. So how do you handle recordings? Do you always inform participants beforehand, or do you wait until the end of the conversation? For some time now, I've been curious about your techniques in this area. I truly appreciate any insight you can offer into this process! Sincerely,
Harold

A. Here's how I've addressed the problem, Harold. At the beginning, I always record people without their knowledge. Afterwards, I reveal the truth to them, humbly apologizing for my deceit in the name of "art," while expressing my desire to immediately broadcast the tapes on my radio show. Aired on NPR, I tell them, their stories, though personally humiliating and degrading and so disgusting that people will never be able to think of them again in quite the same way (I certainly won't), will nevertheless enrich and ennoble the lives of listeners across the nation, bringing us all together in our shared misery. Of course, I'm joking, right? Not entirely.

Anyway, I've found that most people who are good at telling stories and reflecting on their lives are naturals when it comes to being recorded. Listen to the Karma Series: everyone who appears in it is speaking extemporaneously. Recording them was easy. The hard part came later: editing hours of often banal and sometimes engaging monologues and conversations down to a few arresting moments and scenes that appeared seamlessly connected. So, first rule: record hours and hours of material and then search for the gems that lie within. And second, hone your skills as an exacting editor. Remove all "Uhhs" and "Aaahs" and unnecessary pauses - virtually any moment that is superfluous or slows down the narrative momentum.

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