My latest Bessina Maker short puts a little spin on children’s daydreams of being super cool things. I decided to explore the darker side of those innocent fantasies and show what could go wrong with them. It all plays out to a snappy little tune you can bounce your head to. Enjoy!

Much Love
Travis

Discussion: leave a comment! »

It’s Wednesday, which means the new Flick Fights podcast is up and ready to infect your ears! This weeks special guest is the hilariously talented Mike Nelson of Dry Hump Comedy. Check out his stuff HERE:

Devin bought a fancy microphone so we no longer have to hold those shitty ones up to our mouths and worry about our ghetto mixing board cutting out on us. It’s great because we can now look at each other and have discussions hands-free. Hopefully that translates to more fun. Well, enough of the rambling text…here’s the show:

Much love
Travis

Discussion: leave a comment! »

The Creature of Joshua Tree

Just barely a week ago, a creature walked out of the mojave desert. It sluggishly dragged its body that, at first glance, appeared to be made from sand granules. With each heavy step a smoky wisp of dust curled off its form. A slight limp exposed the creature as weak, but it was difficult to get a read on any one emotion, as its face was covered in hair. Scars of unique sizes snaked up and down its arms and legs, as if created by a number of different predators. It was worn, and seeking refuge. Heading West, it eventually wandered into the city of Los Angeles. The creature chose a rather old looking building in which to hide out in. Inside one of the apartments it found a shower. The water blasted away at the poor beasts skin, turning the bottom of the tub into a small sand bar and revealing a splotchy pattern of pale to light brown flesh.  When clean, the farmer-tanned creature found a couch that was just his size when extended fully. For two straight days it laid there, feeding itself with both delicious meats and cheeses as well as entertainment from the flicker box before him. At the end of the two days, the creature rose from his cushiony dream world and was ready to become a man again. A man named Travis.

So who missed me? I double locked your cages, so I know you’re all still here. It’s been a full month since I vanished, but if you read my blog you’ll know that I was off doing some acting in the desert. This entry will be all about the production of the Ward Roberts action/comedy/western DUST UP!

If you know me then you know I enjoy performing. I have always been involved in theater as well as comedy, but acting (like actual career style acting) was never something I was pursing in a serious manner. This is because I am a filmmaker and very much adore writing, directing and editing. With those three mistresses licking my ears and twisting my nipples, I have very little time to add another threat to that list. When Ward asked me to play the part of Herman, the lovable but douchey meth addict, in his new feature film, it had come at the perfect time. I had recently wrapped production on my latest flick and was ready for something different without all the stress of being in charge. ACTING! PERFECT! Spending an entire month in the desert with all my friends. Yes, I was in. The following is a condensed account of that dizzying adventure.

DP stands for "Deadly Predator"

Shannon Hourigan was the cinematographer on the film, so once again we’d be working creatively together but in a much different way. We packed up our car and headed out, daisy fresh, to the high desert valley of Joshua Tree. We arrived a day early and madness was in the air…the good kind mostly. The crew was arriving, shoots were getting organized and paper work was feverishly getting signed and stamped. We were staying in a spare room of Ward’s mom’s house which was dubbed, “production central”. Other cast and crew members were sprinkled in the surrounding area. Some at the Joshua Tree Inn, and others at rented desert cabins. That night we had a meeting/welcome gathering by the pool at the Inn. Afterwards we retired to our respected beds to which we would, from that point on, see very little of.

Amber Benson and Aaron Gaffey on set

The first day of production was a breeze for me. I wasn’t in any scenes

, but I rode out to set in the A.M. to help get the ball rolling. I played the part of the grip and gaffer for the first half of the day while my fellow actors, Aaron Gaffey and Amber Benson, flirted on screen in the blazing desert sun. That first day made me realize that there would only be one certainty on this set: water would need to inhabit my insides at all times. The location was

cute little house in the middle of nowheresville. If you were to read the directions on how to get to it you would scan phrases like, “You’ll go a ways on the dirt road”, and “Take a left at the abandon car” and finally, “Follow the rusty bike around to the right”. We would be at this location for the next week, and in that time we would spill a good amount of the red stuff…and most of it would end up on me.

Herman, a.k.a., Herm-Dawg

The second day of shooting and I found myself staring in the mirror at a man I did not at first recognize, but a man who would soon steal my name and replace it with his own. Cargo shorts, sleevless t-shirt, sleeveless jean jacket, cowboy hat and a broken nose gave birth to the man who would kick the shit out of my body for four weeks. Fucking Herman.

The very first scene I shot was a brutal one. I was leaping off a porch and tackling Aaron, all while trying to stab him with a knife. It was a chaotic dance and one I literally threw myself into. Take after take I leapt off the porch, hitting the actor and the hard desert ground. When Ward finally got what he wanted I took inventory of my cuts and bruises. Generous but nothing impressive. it wasn’t until a few hours later my chest started to bother me. It hurt to bend, it hurt to breathe and worst of all it killed to sneeze. I was convinced I had broken a rib. As the days wore on I believe it was bruised pretty bad. I was able to work with it, but it sure did hurt.

Mike Nelson guards the fort

The rest of the week was more of the same. I arrived on set, got into costume and make-up and then got the shit kicked out of me. There was one night in which I was thrown in the middle of a drug-riddled crowd and a chain-link fence is wrapped around me. While they were un-curling the (NON)prop fence, I made a character choice and tried to escape, only to have my body yanked back by one of the goons (The always sweet smelling Mike Nelson). I tripped a little and fell backwards. At the same time the goons lost grip of the fence. Together we fell, towards each other. The sharp top ends of the fence landed first and my body second. My shoulder embedded itself in one of the pointy parts, creating a lovely little hole in my skin. The hand that was connected to the shoulder, scraped its way under the razor fence, tearing up my knuckle and leaving Freddy Kruger-like gashes down the back of my hand. Hurt but filled with adreniline, I sprung up shouting that I was fine. The scene continued and I started to jump around and scream. I was required to do many escape attempts that would all end up one place, on the desert floor. It is a hard and rocky terrain. One I do not recommend slamming your tender body against. Aside from adding more bruises and scrapes to my fleshy canvas of pain, I also came down a tad hard on my left leg. At first I swore I broke it, but after a moment I realized it must have been something else. That being said, I would not be able to use that leg to fall on the rest of the shoot (believe me, I tried…and almost cried).

Me getting gored. Wet, sticky, hot and cold!

Then came the two days  in which deserve sort of name…hmm…let’s call them THE 2 DAY SATAN LAP DANCE. Yeah, that works. The details are this: On one of our overnight shoots (10P.M. – 10A.M.) I had the pleasure of sitting outside in the cold-ass desert night, stuck in a chair for six hours and COVERED in blood and sticky gore. I was unable to move, so instead I decided to drink. With a bottle of Jack Daniels under my chair I quietly nipped the night away. People tried to bring me jackets and blankets but the blood was everywhere so I couldn’t really cover up. Our costume designer, Molly O’Haver, had these crazy mini-bean bag type things that you shake and then they get warm. So I ended up sitting on a bunch of them and putting them down my back. It actually helped so I wasn’t shivering so bad…well that and the half-bottle of whiskey doing side-strokes in my blood. By morning I was drunk as a desert skunk and happy as a desert clam to get the fuck out of that costume and blood. I was hosed down with…a hose, and sent home sticky and underwearless. A few days later we were working a day shoot (7A.M. – 7P.M.). I was instructed to sit back in the same chair while Tom Devlin re-applied the red and squishy to me. This was going to be a full twelve hour day of me, on this porch, in the desert sun. The lovely DP/Best Girlfriend Ever, Shannon Hourigan, built me a little shade contraption out of an umbrella and a c-stand. When I was in the shot, the shade was removed and I learned quickly that the blood acted as a conductor of heat. When the sun hit those spots on my body I felt like I was cooking in an oven. I’m still not speaking to the sun, although we have exchanged eye contact, so I think things are on the mend. Anyway. After about seven some hours in the sun, I then actually moved to the wooden floor of the porch for the rest of the five hours. Amber was also on the floor for the duration, so at least I had someone to talk to. Those two days, the two days that Satan grinded his sulfur burning ass on my crotch, were the worst of it for me. All else felt like a cake walk.

Devin Barry as Mo

Overnights were never fun and there were plenty of them. They always started out great though. We were out of the hot sun and into the cool desert night under millions of pin holes in the sky. Eventually it got cold and the hours dragged on. Our internal clocks would start to bash us over the heads with sleeping sand granules it stole from the Sandman…even HE wasn’t up at these ungodly hours. So the second half of the overnights were always a struggle, however, there was a silver lining to to them. The local desert watering hole (The Joshua Tree Saloon) had a 8A.M. to 10A.M. happy hour. $2 drinks. After a long night and morning we would head there for copius amounts of bloody mary’s and PBR’s. When happy hour ended, we retreated to whatever blanket we were calling bed and slept until our evening call time.

Gaffey and I in-between takes

The next location we shot at was a bar plopped down in the middle of nowhere. Now close your eyes and think about a bar. Now put that bar in the desert surrounded by nothing. Did the bar change in any way? Did it turn from a bar you could see yourself drinking in to a bar you could see yourself dying in? That was this bar. The place was a treasure trove of obscurity. A sunglasses case, selling glasses for $3, a rack of odd t-shirts, shelves of VHS tapes, a framed barbed-wire collection…etc. The place was filthy. The walls, the bar, the ceiling…the pool table. I’m not kidding! I have never seen a more disgusting pool table. There were dead bugs all over the slate and the balls had an unremovable layer of film. The kitchen (yes, this place served FOOD) was something out of ______________ (insert favorite apocalypse movie). One of the actors, Jeremiah Birkett, even had his own run in with a cat-sized rat. Devin Barry had a wind scorpion crawl up his pant leg. Shannon Hourigan: “Should we kill it?” Mike Nelson: “Does anyone have a gun?” I haven’t even told you about the flies yet! To say that they were everywhere is underselling it. These bastards were the Agent Smith’s of the sky. You’d swat one and forty would rise up to take its place. It was perfectly gross…and perfect for the villains lair! It was my first ever bar fight scene and it was pretty damn fun. Al Burke, ex-pro WWF wrestler and stunt man, tossed me around that place like a rag doll. I even got to do the classic “bar slide”!

Gaffey and Shannon on the last day of shooting

After that things relaxed a bit. One note-worthy place we shot was a square mile piece of land owned by a man named Garth. He had build a concrete tee pee in which he lived that was deep in the desert mountains. The area was strikingly beautiful, and after so much hard work it was good on our souls to be out there. Garth had even built a small swimming pool in the side of a mountain along with a sauna. If you’re into nature and meditation and stuff like that, then this is the place to visit. There was even a little amphitheater built in the rocks. We also met Don. Don was a man who lived under a rock. That’s who Don was. He was super great and even helped us out by holding reflectors from time to time.

Dust Up was a great experience not only because I got to work with so many of my favorite people, but I also got to work with some shiny new people as well, and they turned out to be swell. Indie film is an ever-growing family unit, and the more talented and down-to-earth people you bring into it, the more fantastic movies and experiences you’ll make in the future. As for the acting, well, it’s not my career path, but damn it if I don’t want to do it again. I miss it. Maybe there will be other opportunities down the line. For now, though, I shall focus on storytelling. Thanks for reading all about my adventures. I hope it was damn thrilling. Right now I have to go finish post on my own film, The Dead Inside. Stick around for more updates.

Much love

Travis

Discussion: Read 3 Comments »

Poster Art designed by Shannon Hourigan

I am a maker of many things. I generally don’t like to sit still when the creative juices are evaporating into the air. I try, when I can, to seize the inspiration and run with it as if I’m protecting it from the Devil him/herself. One such incident occurred five years ago when I was waiting for the magic Finishing Funds Fairy to complete my horror movie, JOSHUA. I was simply existing with no money, no project but full of creative energy. That’s when I sparked a concept, picked up a camera and grabbed two actors. The result was an experimental love story called Sunday. Shot in just three days, we improvised scenerios in which a couple in love made a vow not to step  foot off their bed for twenty four hours. It became less a film and more a moment in the lives of two people at the height of their love for each other. Now I know that sounds ridiculously pretencious and oh-so avante-gaurde of me. Well that was not and is not the idea. I simply wanted to make something different. What’s the point of being an artist if you down wade into the deep-end without your water wings?

So we made this little moment of a movie. When it was finished I wasn’t really sure what to do with it. We didn’t have any money to submit to fests and the few distributors we showed it to were not impressed by its confines. After awhile I was moving on to bigger projects (Lo) and I sorta left my love story in box in the back of my closet. Occassionally I woke up screaming her name, but the nightmare passed and she was forgotten once again.

Five years later, the distributor for Lo is looking over this website and notices that I have more films that are untouched by the public. He asks for copies. I send him Sunday thinking, “Why the FUN not?” About a month later he gets back to me. “I want to distribute Sunday.” Well shit.

So here it is. The entire reason for this blog entry. I’m happily here to announce, that my 2nd feature film has distribution! You will be able to rent and purchase it on OCTOBER 12th of this year (2010)! Of course, you can still buy a copy from me personally before then, as we still have hundreds left we made back in the day when “self-distribution” was the way of the indie future! Just click the banner on the main page of this sight or go to the Sunday page.

Thanks to everyone who stays informed with my projects. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. I’m looking forward to getting Sunday out there as well as screening The Dead Inside all around the country next year! Things are really picking up.

Much Love

Travis

Discussion: Read 1 Comment »

A lot of filmmakers like to spout off about their “8mm” days. Seems every independently spirited moving picture artist I ever read about speaks this line in one form or another: “I’ve been making movies since I was eight years old with my parents super 8 camera.” I personally never had access to that particular camera. Instead, I can be quoted using the exact same line, only insert the medium, VHS camcorder. From the second my father brought that boxy beauty home I was in love. For the years that followed I discovered three fires inside me; writing, directing and performing (You will never EVER catch me referring to myself using the words “triple” and “threat” bumped up next to each other. Never). I applied all three of these flames to over 12 full tapes of scratchy, quality degrading stories. (That was a VHS reference…not a “I tell shitty stories” reference). Because it was usually just myself, my best friend and sister making these pieces of master, I was always acting. It was something I enjoyed and because of those movies I got very involved in local theater.

15 years old playing a 75 year old. Hilarious.

I did the high school stage thing, I did the summer stock thing and I did the local civic theater thing. The best way to say it is, I acted the shit out of my youth. In college I even majored in acting. I took the Shakespeare classes and the method classes and the stage combat classes. I learned about Stanislavski, Meisner, Ibsen, Pinter…you know, all the usual theater student trappings and loveliness. It was all great fun and I loved performing…but something switched inside me. I started losing interest in all the structure and lessons. All the rights and wrong, the do’s and don’ts, the politics of the college stage. The writer inside me caught a fever, and as any write knows, the only way to break that fever is to write.

Playing Flop the Clown in Ward Robert's, Little Big Top

At the end of my Sophmore year (and last year actually enrolled in university) I had pretty much abandoned acting and was, instead, going back to what I truly loved most, having sex with animals dressed as humans…I mean writing. Since then I have devoted myself to both literary and visual storytelling. I wrote the remaining three years I was “at” college, then did that whole L.A. move thing. Since then I have wrote dozens a screenplays, directed four of them into actual movies and created a handful of shorts and web shorts. But all that time the acting flame was planning its escape. In the years that passed to create today, I have had the opportunity to perform in some truly fun ways. I was involved in an improv troupe for three years and a sketch group for two. I acted in some shorts for other people and got to play a silent clown in a feature. Currently I star in two web series, both very silly, but it pays the soul soothing bills (but not the actual bills…not the actual bills). Never anything meaty, but always fun. Cut to:

The back of my throat hurts. I can feel the mini-grapplings arrow-shaped hooks emmbedded in my flesh and a small weight being applied to it. That flame. That little acting flame that’s been bullied into giving up its oxygen by the two stronger flames, is now James Bonding itself up my body in hopes to breathe. So when it finally fans itself back to life, you can all blame Ward Roberts. I know I do.

My college improv comedy troupe, Full Frontal Comedy

What the fuck is this all about? Did I really need five paragraphs to get to this point? Probably not, but it was fun for me to look back, so kiss off. It’s important for me to remember that there was a time that acting was the dominate force in my life, and I loved it. I mean, Ward casts me in a lead role in his new movie! I damn well better reach back and pull out the passion. Last night was the table read for the flick. That’s where the cast and crew sit around and for the first time read the script in our respective roles. I knew right away that this was going to not only be an amazing good time and a damn fine film, but it was also going to give that little flame one helluva blow job. Yeah, you know what I mean.

The movie is called, Dust Up. It’s an action-comedy that takes place in the desert of Joshua Tree and is best described (to me anyways) as Straw Dogs with funny. It’s violent, hilarious and full of heart. I’m honored to be a part of it and can’t wait to act along side the rest of the cast, many of which I have directed in my own films, and some I just met and highly respect. Ward Roberts (you know him from The Baby Eaters, Lo, Joshua, Little Big Top) is the captain of this desert ship. He wrote the script and will be helming the awesome.

Ward and I doing some street performance

I’ve been so busy editing The Dead inside, that I have been slacking on the blog. This entry at least has me talking about something different, rather than the last couple months of me running at the mouth about singing ghosts. I will share more of the Dust Up fun as it unfolds. You will love this film. it’s gonna be a blast and a half. I will also do my best to deliver a entertaining performace, and just to wish myself luck I will close with this:

MacBeth.

Much Love

Travis

Discussion: Read 1 Comment »

It’s been well over a month and a half since we wrapped production on the ghost possession musical EVERYONE (no one at the moment) is talking about! The Dead Inside cameras may have stopped rolling, but the movie continues to consume my life. Being the editor of the film, I am now offered the opportunity to write my story all over again, because that’s pretty much what happens. You write it in screenplay form and  you love it. You shoot it, it evolves and changes on set and love it. Then you put those visuals together, but now with so many options you are re-writing the movie for the third time. I love the editing process. Just me and my film…and some good beer. I truly enjoy the collaborative aspect of filmmaking, and production is always a hoot, but if you were to nail me to the floor (please don’t) and force me to be honest then I’d have to say I much prefer writing the script and editing the film. I simply prefer to work alone. I think that’s the wannabe tortured romantic in me. Of course I could never do it alone, but the moments I heart most are the quiet ones. Me and my story.

So for the last month and a half I have been piecing together the movie one scene at a time. My goal is to finish the rough cut in the next three days. Once I have that done I can look at the film as a whole instead of a collection of scenes. I still have no idea how long this is going to be. I’m nervous because I’m going to have to make some tough choices about what stays and what goes into the deleted scene DVD extra folder. This rough cut will also allow me to start thinking about sound design and score.

So things are going great and I just wanted to pop on here and update all those who take the time to read the blog and follow the progress of my projects. You are going to love this new one. I’ll blog more soon. There should be lots to talk about over the remainder of this year.

Much love

Travis

Discussion: Read 2 Comments »

2010 has not been the best year for The Baby Eaters. I shoulder a good portion of that blame. For Christ sakes (Hoppy post-Easter) I decided to make another feature film. That pretty much destroyed any spare time I might have to get together with my friends to drink and shoot improvised madness against a wood-slated wall. So when I finally wrapped production I was itching for some raunchy fun. We set the date. The Baby Eaters would be making their return to the super small screen! I was jazzed. I needed the escape, and Ward and Devin are the perfect gents to take me there. So, yeah. All dressed up for the prom I was….until Bo’s punk ass decided she needed to be a week early and crawled her way out of her mothers vagina! Dude. Seriously. Nobody likes the lord or lady who shows up early to the party. People aren’t prepared. They’re still cleaning up, and making ice runs and maybe trying to squeeze in (or out) a shit before the whole thing starts.

Annie Roberts gave birth to Ella Bo Roberts at 4:20 (Yeah, I know) in the afternoon, completely RUINING my all my evening plans…and making them better. Elbow, this is your Uncle Trav…you are a Baby Eater for life.

Discussion: Read 1 Comment »

The weekly episodes of my movie podcast are back. We’ve revamped it and added some extra fun, including reviews, bad movie suggestions and even fake sponsorship. Every Wednesday you can listen to myself and Devin Barry as we talk about which movies rank above other movies all thanks to the addictive website, FlickChart.com. If you don’t have an account then you need one. It’s a damn fine movie debating tool.

Enjoy the show!

FLICK FIGHTS – Episode 18: The Circle of Life vs The Circle of Death

Much love
Travis

Discussion: leave a comment! »

A couple years ago I started a new web series called Tons of Fun about a grumpy ex-con forced to host a children’s coloring show. I made around eight episodes but then abandon the idea. Well brace yourselves, because Chad is back! I have created four brand new episodes and will be posting them on my YouTube channel, The Receptionist. If all goes well then i will continue to make these along with the Bessina Maker Shorts. I’d like to start posting more content on that channel and help it grow a little more. So here is the first episode in the Tons of Fun reboot! Enjoy!

Discussion: leave a comment! »

Darkness. There is noise, but not surrounding me. It seems to be coming from inside me, as if my brain was flicking around in a hundred different directions. It’s insufferable. My numb hands lift up off the imitation silk to touch my face, but instead they hit the ceiling. Feels like wood, but then my hands are numb so it’s hard to say. One thing is certain, the space I am in is tight. I guide my hands to my face and my cold fingers touch my eyes. They are closed, I can tell that much. They refuse to open, even when I pull at the lids. Starting to panic, the kid gloves come off. With my thumbs and forefingers I pry them open with great force, snapping the threads that had sewn my eyes shut. Darkness…still. The sounds in my head continue. They squish and scream, never slowing and never building. It’s maddening, but also inspiring. While there are no discernible words spoken, nor any true rhyme to their shrieks, I am still able to translate them. “Pull yourself out of this hole,” they yell. “Punch, claw, scoop, pull!” I listen because I have no other choice. I shatter my hand against the low wood ceiling, not expecting much, but then pleasantly surprised when I feel it splinter a bit. A few more thrusts and my hand rips through and the feeling comes back. It was wood! I can feel the jagged edges of the hole I just punched as they cut into my wrist. I can also feel the source of my imprisonment. The cold, wet dirt that weighs down on what I now understand to be my coffin. Larva. The noise inside my head. hundreds of infant flies, flipping their bodies back and forth as they find nourishment from brain. I am hearing only the sounds that they make. Squirming and eating. I know there is nothing I can do to silence them, but there is a way to soften them. Grabbing the newly made hole, I pull at it with my weight, breaking it around me as dirt fills in. I slowly begin to dig my way up, knowing that a simple six feet will defeat me if I am not careful in my pacing and thoughtfulness. You might think rising from the grave is a no-brainer, but you would be wrong. There is a science involved, and if your heart isn’t in it then you will drown with lungs full of earth. Not me. Not today. I scoop the dirt from above my head, then push it towards my feet. One handful at a time. Over and over again. Suddenly, my fingers break through, feeling a chill cut across their tips. Still in complete darkness, I can tell it is night. I lift my dead body out of the hole in which I put myself in so long ago. I drag it up, using my own name etched in stone as a pulley. My head hits the unkept grass with a thud, followed by the rest of me, my toes still dipped in the ground. I wiggle them, a smile streaking across my face. I keep my head on the ground and have a look around the graveyard. It’s more beautiful than I remembered. The dead, still living. The moon letting them glow. I was exhausted from the escape, but still had the energy to stand. The larva in my head still squished. The larva in my head still fed. Only now it was tolerable. Softened by the noise of a small wind. Softened by the noise of rustling leaves. Softened by the distant bark of a dog. Softened by the slight creak to the swaying, rusted gate. I smiled a deathly grin, but breathed the song of life.

Ummm...why is there a zombie in a ghost possession movie?

Production on my feature film, horror musical, THE DEAD INSIDE, is complete. We wrapped Saturday night, March 13th, 2010. For two days we finished up in a little house in the middle of 29 Palms desert. Production ended like it began; two actors, one cinematographer, one producer, one sound mixer, one make-up special effects guy, one costumer and me, your movie blogging director. For nine weeks I have been bringing you the updates from the set, and as I sit here typing out the final production blog, I am filled with satisfaction. Going over it all in my head reminds me why I do this in the first place. I have to, because the larva in my head can not be silenced, only muffled by life force that is art.

Our to-the-bone producer, Galy, standing in for the actors.

A new journey is about to begin. I will edit this monster, reshaping the story further. I am tingling all over with the thought of putting together everything we shot. You never truly know what you have until the editing begins, but I know this much; I worked with most talented cinematographer I have ever met and kissed. I had actors that took two very complicated characters and gave them life, causing me to occasionally have chills while watching over the monitor. I had a producer who worked until her fingers bled, but never once let her smile fall away. I had a make-up special effects guy who gave me his best even when I showed him my empty pockets. I had a composer whom I

I want Tom to do my make up at my funeral.

approached with lyrics, and whom produced ten original and completely awesome songs to shape the story. I had a sound guy, who had never done sound before but learned how to do it just for my movie…just because I asked him to. I had a costume designer who had zero time to do my film, but did it anyway, even when I flipped the schedule around daily. These were the main players. The folks that threw themselves together for two months in the name of cinema. It is because of these fine people that I was able to shoot the movie I wanted…or even shoot the movie at all.  Outside of the die hards there were also a

Galy, Aaron and Tom - 3 people I can't seem to make movies without.

number of people that kept this ball of awesome in motion. My executive producer who helped with all things legal and even scored us some important props, even though she’s crawling out of her own pile of projects. My good friends who allowed me to torture them for a few hours on a Saturday so that I could use their hands in my movie. My creative soul-mates who sometimes stopped by to bring our crew coffee. The other half of my tug who helped us out with vocal recording. There was even the cinematographers mother who so generously got our production rolling by investing her own money into our crazy dream. These good people may not have been on set dripping the blood some of us were, but they were still pushing us forward with all the same heart. Thank you.

The martini slate - Cinematographer Shannon Hourigan and myself.

The Dead Inside still has a ways to go before the general public can throw their eyeballs at it, but I hope many of you will continue on this journey with me so that when it is ready to watch, you’ll be part of its history. It is then I will be thanking all of you.

Much love

Travis

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