Hey all. It's been 6 months, I know. But I've been busy with my new life at film school! And it's been incredible, let me tell you. The people are great, the school is top notch, the facilities are second to none (well, maybe 1 George lucas Just gave USC a boatload of money. But that won't be ready for a few years). But I love it.
I've also been extremely busy helping out on people's movies and making my own. Here's my semester-end project entitled "Anti-Monster Spray". It's a comedy with a dark/artsy twist. And it's based on a product I made for a graphic design class in college. But I'm pretty happy with it. we didn't have a lot of resources to work with this semester... the plan is to wait until we understand basic craft before they throw money at our productions. So this represents what you can do with less than $100.
Hope you enjoy! Comments are always welcome.
"A boy afraid of growing up. A monster under his bed. Footie pajamas. Household chemicals. Tom Waits."
Written and Directed by Nicholas W. Snyder
Cinematography by Scotty G. Field
Starring Sean Dacanay
16 December 2009
12 June 2009
The Longest Day of My Life
Where to begin...
Let me first say that if it weren't for my previous adventures on this blog, I really don't how I could have handled what happened to me on Tuesday June 9th - Wednesday June 10th 2009.
I had feared something like this would happen. During my 5 day trip to Austria with my sister, I was not-so-secretly dreading the talk I was going to have with UK immigration. But I was reassured by countless people that everything would be just fine. So I would push that anxiety back down into my stomach and continue enjoying my view of the Southern Austrian countryside. But even if I HAD known what was going to happen, there was nothing I could have done. My fate was sealed as soon as I left the UK.
At 3pm, Hannah and I left my high school friend Ed's apartment in Klagenfurt, Austria. After 5 days of castle-viewing, mountain-climbing and crystal-clear-lake-swimming, we were exausted and looking forward to a few lazy days back in London. The 4:50 Ryanair flight to London Stanstead was OK, save for maybe the screaming kids 2 rows behind us and my iPod dying. But Hannah and I shook it off, both of us looking forward to seeing Jenna again. But then comes UK passport control.
"So what have you been doing the past 5 months?" the stalky, Indian or Pakistani Englishman asks me. I respond in a professional and respectful manner that would make the Queen look like a mumbler. "I'm sorry sir, that's not good enough. I need to enquire further. Please have a seat."
10 minutes later I see the same border guard speaking to what looks like his supervisor behind the desk. I wave to Hannah who's on the other side. "Go to the lost-and-found, (she'd left our toiletries in security on our way to Austria) I'll meet you there" I say. But little did I know, I would never be meeting her there...
Then I see the border guard's supervisor mouth the word "refugee". My stomach shoots into my throat. "Please follow me sir" the squat little man tells me. "We are going to search your bags, take fingerprints and ask some further questions."
The fingerprint people are cool. We talk about my time in England, film school and my girlfriend. They even tell me that I have nothing to worry about. God were they wrong. What they should have said is to prepare yourself for the worst night of your life. Because what's to come is completely devastating.
After several hours of waiting for my interview, I finally get it. But it's the same jerk who didn't believe me in the first place. Even though I speak with Obama-like confidence and argue what I think is a pretty damn good case, he doesn't have any of it. In fact, he barely listens. I sit still and he squirms. I look him in the eye and his dart around the room like someone in R.E.M without their eyelids closed. "What does one do on holiday, sir? They visit. If I went to America, after a couple weeks, what would there be left to do? Nothing. What have you really been doing the past five months?" I answer again. His eyes dart. I make sure he's recording everything I say. But he isn't. He squirms, I sit still. After I feel like I've said all I can, I beg him to consider. But I know he won't. I follow him back into the detainment room. He tells me to wait while they decide what's going to happen to me. "Holy Man" starring Eddie Murphy comes to an end and "There's something about Mary" begins.
I sit in ulcer-inducing anxiety for about 3 hours. "There's something about Mary" is probably the least funny movie I have ever seen. Which sucks cuz I used to like it... Then the guard returns and tells me to stand up. "We've made a decision." But he doesn't even look at me. He even has the gaul to stand there talking to the detainment guards with my paperwork exposed. But I don't look. I wanna hear it from from his mouth. And I want him to look me in the eye.
After a meeting that almost exactly mirrors the tone and dialect of our previous one, he tells me their decision: I have been denied entry into the United Kingdom. But that isn't all. My last month with Jenna is robbed from me, my year-out in Europe is cut short and I am told that it would be wise to not return to the UK for at least a year. Fuck.
I was a refugee for 19 hours. Not only this, but I have no phone credit and I am told that I am not allowed contact with my sister. So to make matters worse, my friends and family are dragged down with me. I have never longed for anyone more than I did for Jenna and Hannah. I could have punched someone, anyone. But I didn't. I say please and thank you and keep my head up.
But don't worry, I'm not a criminal. I just led the officer to believe that I wouldn't be leaving the country on the date I said I would. (I thruthfully told him July 15th) This was because of my extensive (but legal) time spent in the UK, my expressed love for the country and culture, my British girlfriend and because I didn't have substantial proof to show that I was indeed returning to the US to attend film school (a return ticket home and my acceptance letter). Essentially, he told me that I had abused my visitor rights. But how does one know where you cross the line? I worked legally for 6 months, then began another 6 month stint as a tourist. Americans are allowed that. Or so I've read, been told and thought. The reason I was detained and eventually denied was because of one man's suspicion. Nice.
Next they told me that I would be heading back to Austria at 1:30pm the next day. wtf? Yea, Austria. Aparently its procedure to send rejects back to the country they came from. Aparently it's also procedure to send them to a different city. (Linz, not Klagenfurt)
So I had a fun night. Lucky they had a TV, a coffee and tea machine, free sandwiches, a toilet, a telephone, other rejected foreign nationals and pillows. Otherwise it would have sucked. Just kidding, it did way worse than suck. It was the worst night of my life. I slept on a chair with my head on a pillow and toilet paper in my ears to block out the Jeremy Kyle show.
Thank God for my family friends in Belgium and the laid back Austrians. If it weren't for the understanding officer in Linz, I would probably have been put on a plane back to America, I wouldn't see Jenna until September and I would have to pay for all my stuff to be shipped back home. But lucky lucky me. "Enjoy your time in Austria" is the greatest combination of words in the English language. When the Austian guard said this, he not only saved me well over a grand, but he allowed me the chance to see Jenna. As soon as I entered the "Blue Danube Aiport" (yes, named after Austria's much beloved piece by Johann Srauss and a nearby valley), I purchase a ticket to Brussels.
But it wasn't over. Even though I had a ticket to Brussels, I wasn't certain that immigration in each country was going to let me through! But thank God for the European Union. Because of the EU, the only customs I had to pass through was in Austria. But I didn't know this. All I knew was that I now had the stigma of a rejection stamp in my passport. So I wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until I saw Lieve's pretty face in the Brussels Airport. After 2 incredibly nerve-wracking flights (Frankfurt, then Brussels) and 40+ hours of travel, I made it. I finally had a bed to sleep in. And I could see Jenna again.
So I write to you now from Mechelen, Belgium. You might remenber it from my travels back in 2006. A lot has changed since then. But not the kindness of my dear Belgian friends. They let me in with arms wide open. Now I'm just waiting for Jenna to come tomorrow to bring some of my things. I can't wait.
Let me first say that if it weren't for my previous adventures on this blog, I really don't how I could have handled what happened to me on Tuesday June 9th - Wednesday June 10th 2009.
I had feared something like this would happen. During my 5 day trip to Austria with my sister, I was not-so-secretly dreading the talk I was going to have with UK immigration. But I was reassured by countless people that everything would be just fine. So I would push that anxiety back down into my stomach and continue enjoying my view of the Southern Austrian countryside. But even if I HAD known what was going to happen, there was nothing I could have done. My fate was sealed as soon as I left the UK.
At 3pm, Hannah and I left my high school friend Ed's apartment in Klagenfurt, Austria. After 5 days of castle-viewing, mountain-climbing and crystal-clear-lake-swimming, we were exausted and looking forward to a few lazy days back in London. The 4:50 Ryanair flight to London Stanstead was OK, save for maybe the screaming kids 2 rows behind us and my iPod dying. But Hannah and I shook it off, both of us looking forward to seeing Jenna again. But then comes UK passport control.
"So what have you been doing the past 5 months?" the stalky, Indian or Pakistani Englishman asks me. I respond in a professional and respectful manner that would make the Queen look like a mumbler. "I'm sorry sir, that's not good enough. I need to enquire further. Please have a seat."
10 minutes later I see the same border guard speaking to what looks like his supervisor behind the desk. I wave to Hannah who's on the other side. "Go to the lost-and-found, (she'd left our toiletries in security on our way to Austria) I'll meet you there" I say. But little did I know, I would never be meeting her there...
Then I see the border guard's supervisor mouth the word "refugee". My stomach shoots into my throat. "Please follow me sir" the squat little man tells me. "We are going to search your bags, take fingerprints and ask some further questions."
The fingerprint people are cool. We talk about my time in England, film school and my girlfriend. They even tell me that I have nothing to worry about. God were they wrong. What they should have said is to prepare yourself for the worst night of your life. Because what's to come is completely devastating.
After several hours of waiting for my interview, I finally get it. But it's the same jerk who didn't believe me in the first place. Even though I speak with Obama-like confidence and argue what I think is a pretty damn good case, he doesn't have any of it. In fact, he barely listens. I sit still and he squirms. I look him in the eye and his dart around the room like someone in R.E.M without their eyelids closed. "What does one do on holiday, sir? They visit. If I went to America, after a couple weeks, what would there be left to do? Nothing. What have you really been doing the past five months?" I answer again. His eyes dart. I make sure he's recording everything I say. But he isn't. He squirms, I sit still. After I feel like I've said all I can, I beg him to consider. But I know he won't. I follow him back into the detainment room. He tells me to wait while they decide what's going to happen to me. "Holy Man" starring Eddie Murphy comes to an end and "There's something about Mary" begins.
I sit in ulcer-inducing anxiety for about 3 hours. "There's something about Mary" is probably the least funny movie I have ever seen. Which sucks cuz I used to like it... Then the guard returns and tells me to stand up. "We've made a decision." But he doesn't even look at me. He even has the gaul to stand there talking to the detainment guards with my paperwork exposed. But I don't look. I wanna hear it from from his mouth. And I want him to look me in the eye.
After a meeting that almost exactly mirrors the tone and dialect of our previous one, he tells me their decision: I have been denied entry into the United Kingdom. But that isn't all. My last month with Jenna is robbed from me, my year-out in Europe is cut short and I am told that it would be wise to not return to the UK for at least a year. Fuck.
I was a refugee for 19 hours. Not only this, but I have no phone credit and I am told that I am not allowed contact with my sister. So to make matters worse, my friends and family are dragged down with me. I have never longed for anyone more than I did for Jenna and Hannah. I could have punched someone, anyone. But I didn't. I say please and thank you and keep my head up.
But don't worry, I'm not a criminal. I just led the officer to believe that I wouldn't be leaving the country on the date I said I would. (I thruthfully told him July 15th) This was because of my extensive (but legal) time spent in the UK, my expressed love for the country and culture, my British girlfriend and because I didn't have substantial proof to show that I was indeed returning to the US to attend film school (a return ticket home and my acceptance letter). Essentially, he told me that I had abused my visitor rights. But how does one know where you cross the line? I worked legally for 6 months, then began another 6 month stint as a tourist. Americans are allowed that. Or so I've read, been told and thought. The reason I was detained and eventually denied was because of one man's suspicion. Nice.
Next they told me that I would be heading back to Austria at 1:30pm the next day. wtf? Yea, Austria. Aparently its procedure to send rejects back to the country they came from. Aparently it's also procedure to send them to a different city. (Linz, not Klagenfurt)
So I had a fun night. Lucky they had a TV, a coffee and tea machine, free sandwiches, a toilet, a telephone, other rejected foreign nationals and pillows. Otherwise it would have sucked. Just kidding, it did way worse than suck. It was the worst night of my life. I slept on a chair with my head on a pillow and toilet paper in my ears to block out the Jeremy Kyle show.
Thank God for my family friends in Belgium and the laid back Austrians. If it weren't for the understanding officer in Linz, I would probably have been put on a plane back to America, I wouldn't see Jenna until September and I would have to pay for all my stuff to be shipped back home. But lucky lucky me. "Enjoy your time in Austria" is the greatest combination of words in the English language. When the Austian guard said this, he not only saved me well over a grand, but he allowed me the chance to see Jenna. As soon as I entered the "Blue Danube Aiport" (yes, named after Austria's much beloved piece by Johann Srauss and a nearby valley), I purchase a ticket to Brussels.
But it wasn't over. Even though I had a ticket to Brussels, I wasn't certain that immigration in each country was going to let me through! But thank God for the European Union. Because of the EU, the only customs I had to pass through was in Austria. But I didn't know this. All I knew was that I now had the stigma of a rejection stamp in my passport. So I wasn't able to breathe a sigh of relief until I saw Lieve's pretty face in the Brussels Airport. After 2 incredibly nerve-wracking flights (Frankfurt, then Brussels) and 40+ hours of travel, I made it. I finally had a bed to sleep in. And I could see Jenna again.
So I write to you now from Mechelen, Belgium. You might remenber it from my travels back in 2006. A lot has changed since then. But not the kindness of my dear Belgian friends. They let me in with arms wide open. Now I'm just waiting for Jenna to come tomorrow to bring some of my things. I can't wait.
05 March 2009
Freelance Design
Here's a sample of some of the stuff I've been working on. This is a concept for the direct mailer at Snyder DSS. It's meant to grab interest and keep you there on a whimsical and intriguing level. The front is home to 14 smiling orange faces and one shy purple face. On the inside it says next to big purple: "Still waiting for those pesky braces to come off? (then below) Dr. Snyder understands. That's why Snyder orthodontics offers their fastest treatment ever." Then it goes on to explain why... You get the idea. Here are the faces behind the idea.
01 March 2009
David Lynch
Film director David Lynch. Another hero of mine done in the same style.
Hannah visited this weekend. I had a great time showing her around London. Hopefully she can say the same...
20 February 2009
Hayao Miyazaki
Here he is, in the pen-and-ink, my hero, Hayao Miyazaki.
(writer/director of 'Spirited Away', 'Princess Mononoke', 'Nausicaa')
(writer/director of 'Spirited Away', 'Princess Mononoke', 'Nausicaa')
Museum Visits
Here are a couple of quick sketches from a couple recent museum visits.
Top: The National Gallery - from various paintings
Middle: The Tate Modern - quick sketch of Giacometti sculptures
Bottom: Tate Modern - sculpture and painting
07 February 2009
Trip to the V&A
Yesterday I went to the Victoria and Albert Museum in South Kensington. Usually I go to museums with the intention of looking and meandering first, then drawing - if time or company permits. But usually I draw. This visit was a little different. This time, I went to the V&A with the sole intention of drawing. Nothing else.
So yesterday, I went, I drew, I left. No funny business. I had work to do, so I couldn't stay long. But I went anyway. And this is what I drew.
04 February 2009
let the pencil do the thinking.
Start with the eyes on a character and work your way out from there. No erasing, no going back, make it up as you go. This is a type of drawing I like to do from time to time. It's the type of drawing that tattooed so many of my school notebooks and planners. But recently, I've been deliberately doodling like this in predetermined places - like notebooks! But it's a fun technique to use. By not glancing at a subject and focusing intently on the drawing, I can get to an almost meditative-like state that allows me to "let the pencil do the thinking". You can arrive at some pretty incredible places if you take on this perspective when you draw. I also feel that it is something you can channel into the real world. In an empathic manner, put your entire self into someone else and walk in their shoes/sandals/boots. Drawing can be wonderfully therapeutic.
"Who will put flowers on a flower's grave?" -- Tom Waits
Drawing No. 2
Here's the 2nd drawing for the project. I am currently trying to explore a mixture of caricature and life drawing. This was the first step.
आईटी अल स्टार्ट्स विथ अ स्पार्क
"It all starts with a spark" - the first drawing as part of the project.
The Next Step
Hi all --
It's been months and months, I know. But I'm back. In fact, I've just started this little "art project" thing that involves small artistic explorations here and there all over London. I will be posting these creative burps on here as a way of documenting my progress. So stay tuned.
Many strange things will occur.
-NWS
It's been months and months, I know. But I'm back. In fact, I've just started this little "art project" thing that involves small artistic explorations here and there all over London. I will be posting these creative burps on here as a way of documenting my progress. So stay tuned.
Many strange things will occur.
-NWS
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