SHORT SYNOPSIS / SYNOPSIS / DIRECTOR'S STATEMENT


My first encounter with the artist Brock Enright was in 2002, when he came to the attention of the mainstream media after creating a ‘designer kidnapping’ service called Videogames Adventure Services (VAS). Brock directed the “games,” which were tailored to each client’s worst fears, and also played Connie, the leader of the VAS team. I intermittently served as the cinematographer.


    The outline
    of each game was almost never followed, and Brock was often in
    character for days on end.  I had very little formal direction as I
    shot verite documentary footage of violent and disturbing subject
    matter that was loosely staged. 
    
    

    There was constant media attention
    surrounding VAS, and Brock intentionally misled the press to create
    a confusing and inconsistent public persona.  However, from early on
    in our relationship, Brock told me, “I want you to tell my story.”
    
    

    When Brock asked me to work as the cinematographer for his first
    solo show with Perry Rubenstein Gallery, I turned him down because I
    saw an opportunity to create my own film and to express my
    perspective of his process without overtly interpreting his artwork
    or defending its subject matter.  I knew that the experience I
    gained from years of involvement in his work put me in a position of
    understanding and trust that few documentarians and subjects share.
    
    

    The existing documentation of Brock's work, (which often involves
    bodily fluid, violence, and general disarray) often takes on a
    sloppy, low-tech, and chaotic aesthetic.  I tried to capture his
    process in controlled, sparse, angular compositions, by shooting on
    a locked off tripod as much as possible.  I felt that my visually
    clean approach could make his challenging art more accessible to an
    audience who could otherwise reject it entirely. 
    
    

    I was also interested in telling the story of a deliberately enigmatic public
    figure with as little artifice as possible.  For this reason, I
    eschewed a film crew, and worked alone for the first eight weeks of
    shooting.  Driving across the country, I shared a hotel room with
    Brock and his girlfriend Kirsten every night, and we all stayed in a
    cabin deep in the redwoods for four weeks.  Intimate conversations,
    violence, and familial clashes are unflinchingly captured because of
    the total access I was granted. 
    
    

    As I shot the film, I found conflict and narrative in Brock's struggle to create 
    art while balancing relationships with his girlfriend, her family, and the 
    gallery representing him.  However, the resulting story transcends Brock's 
    individual experience and the art world as a whole, and asks the universal 
    question; can relationships and family co-exist with boundless ambition?

    

    It wasn't until a year and a half after the opening of Brock's show at Perry 
    Rubenstein Gallery that I understood his answer to this question.  Not only was 
    he continuing to make art and build a career, but Brock and Kirsten's commitment 
    and love for each other had grown even stronger as they began a family of their own.