 So, it's strange for me because I don't usually think of myself as an artist. My background, I went to film school, not art school, I think of myself as a filmmaker who occasionally does things in an art context. I started, this is the first really big piece I did, this is a feature documentary called Moment of Impact. And I'm sorry to talk even more into the mic. So this is a feature documentary that I did called Moment of Impact. Because I approach things as a filmmaker, I don't necessarily think of the project of my work. I tend to think of the project of the specific project. So after the fact, I notice there are things that kind of run as a common thread through my work. One of them is probably, my projects tend to go between taking place in very hermetic private spaces and then the next project I'll do will have like a very public space, like the street. A lot of the time I deal with things that have very, very extreme events. Kind of the confluence of extreme events and the most banal everyday details. Questions of identity, questions of the role of the camera come up. But these are all things that generally get pointed out to me after the fact and not that I set out to do on purpose. So after I made Moment of Impact, which was a two hour film, I did my first video art piece which went in the opposite direction. Like Moment of Impact all took place in hermetic interiors. And then I did this five-channel piece on a single, very long screen. It's called Set in Passing. It was filmed on the New York subway using girls that I had cast in advance, 20 different girls who each rode the subway for about 20 minutes. So I sort of went in the exact opposite. I went from kind of hermetic domestic space to city space. It was the first real art. I never really thought about doing artwork before then, but I had this idea for a project and it didn't fit in a normal movie theater. And so that's very important to me. Whenever I do work in an art context and not as a filmmaker, I try to do things that I simply can't do in a movie theater, that they don't fit. It has to do something different with either space and or time. I wouldn't want to do a single screen film that I would be able to show in a movie theater and then show it in a gallery. For me, it's always very important that it does something else. Now, this project, in a strange way, led to the piece that's showing here, which is called Rough House. And Rough House is a kind of weird hybrid because I think of it as a movie on two screens. It exists in linear movie time. I mean, the narrative itself is cyclical, but it is meant to be watched from beginning to end. It's about an hour long. It's hellish for an opening. You probably are not going to have a chance to see it. It's the worst kind of piece to see at an opening. But it does exist in kind of movie time, but it does something different with space. It's two screens that are kind of pointed out that I couldn't do in a movie theater. Now, the way the previous project led to it is in addition to writing the subway, there was an audio portion to set in passing which was conducted through these written interviews with girls. And one of the things that kept coming up in strange ways was how many of them said I've kicked a boyfriend, I've punched a boyfriend, and things like this. And I thought this is really strange because we don't usually talk about it. And I've actually had personal experience with kind of small-scale domestic violence. But when I say that, people are horrified because, of course, we have one image of domestic violence and it usually involves the woman being the victim and the man pounding on her. And what was interesting to me is these stories I started talking to women and so many things came out where like there would be these small-scale fights, fights that had notions of a limit where you don't draw blood, you don't break bones, and you know not to leave marks. Fights where usually the girl probably would hit harder than the guy. And he's probably pulling his punches and trying to sort of control her, you know, in some ways. And as I talk to people, I notice that, like, this is something people never talk about because you don't want to make yourself sound like your wife, you know. And so the project came out of this idea of a type of relationship. I mean, what kinds of limits do we have to violence? I mean, because obviously violence is something that exists in different levels. I mean, after I did the piece, I started doing karate. And I've certainly hit strangers in karate class much, much harder than I ever hit a boyfriend, you know. And that's condoned, you know, you kind of go into karate class and I would have like bruises up and down my arms and I would look like a battered woman often. So the way that violence exists in society in certain condoned contexts and not was very interesting to me. So the piece was a narrative of a type of couple that have this relationship. And you see fights, you see these scenes of fights and then you see these intimate kind of close-ups where the couple talk to somebody off-screen. They answer questions, but they're questions that we never hear. So it has a solution of a dialogue between them even though they're not really talking to each other. And then these domestic intersections where they're existing in a domestic space, they're crisscrossing, somebody's picking up the laundry, you know, somebody's getting a teapot, they're moving, you know, like when you live together with somebody you don't always say hello to them every time you pass them in the hallway, you sort of intersect. The domestic space here becomes violent in a different way where there's constantly doorbells going off, teapots, you know, things being knocked over. And these scenes repeat. There are these three types of scenes, but they alternate. So sometimes it's interior fight-talk, then interior talk-fight. But if you keep watching them, you get this kind of cumulative notion of a relationship. Now you probably notice that, you know, I'm on-screen and I tend to talk about it as they. I co-wrote the piece with my boyfriend at the time, and we acted in it. But we always talked about it as he-she. You know, we never said, okay, I'm going to do this or I'm going to do that. You know, it was always in this kind of hypothetical male-female role. We never gave the characters names. But I mean, I think, you know, so we thought of it as acting, perhaps bad acting, that's a whole other story, you know. But we did attempt to, you know, approach it as actors, as characters. You know, working off of that. I'm not sure why we can't. I think we cast ourselves because, like, I had some equipment that I needed to use very quickly. And we didn't really think about the implications of casting ourselves very much at the time. We just said we're available, we'll work for free, and, you know, we're nearby. And so later I realized, of course, this was, you know, a huge oversight not to think of this very hard. Because I had very other associations now. Perhaps I should have gotten actors. So, let's see. This is a different piece called Press Shots. It's Silent. And I went to the gym out in Jamaica, Queens, and I filmed boys doing the bench press. Just weightlifting. And you see it, again, these are all stills from video. And what you see is them silently kind of in the act of creating their body. I mean, they're sort of making themselves this moment, and it's the expression of, you know, portraiture we usually kind of associated with an interiority. This is very much portraiture that's all about the effects of the body on the face, the body coming through the face at that moment. And this is a piece called I Cried For You, which again comes back to cinema for me. I put an ad in Backstage, which is a newspaper that a lot of actors read, asking for people who would come and cry on cue. As an audition, I said it's for a video piece. I didn't lie. I said, you know, I'm making a video piece. I will choose some people. And with each one of these people, I met them for the first time. We met in a hotel room alone, one-on-one, where they had 15 minutes. They clapped a clapper, and they sat down and attempted to make themselves cry. And you see it in real time from the moment they clapped a clapper to them crying sometimes. Now you see it on two screens. One is the camera. There's a shot that I'm filming. You see the close-up. And so you follow the minutiae of this person's face as they try to make themselves cry. They were not allowed to use onions. And the other is a camera that I had on a window sill, just showing the entire room. So I always think, like, you know, the left is sort of drama, the right is comedy. Because actors talk about, like, crying as a kind of Olympic sport. You know, they put on their resume, cries well. And there's this whole thing associated with it. But I love the intimacy of the shot, you know, which is what you usually see in cinema is, of course, like the result. But you don't see the context in which this emotional moment takes place, which usually has a lot more crew around them than just one girl who's, like, and they could move any way they wanted. Like, I didn't know where they were going to go. I just had to get the close-up. My role was to follow them around. And sometimes I'm, like, climbing over them on the bed, you know, trying to get the shot that I needed. And you see this all in real time. And they had 15 minutes. Either they cried or they didn't. And some of the ones, you know, some guys really faked it. And I don't like these guys so much. They were really awful, you know, because I'm like, you know, I can see you in close-up. I can tell you're lying. But then there were some that were really beautiful. Like, this man sat and he didn't cry. But he made such a beautiful, honest attempt. And his not crying was more beautiful to me than the crying. So kind of coming back, now I've made my first fiction feature film. It's called Day Night, Day Night. It's premiering next weekend in New Directors New Films at MoMA and Walter Reed. It will be released by IFC May 9th. And it's a movie movie, a fiction feature movie. It's been around in a festival context. So maybe what I should do is a kind of leaving off point. It'll also be in band, I think, sometime in April. But the film, maybe I shouldn't tell you anything. Maybe I should just let you watch the preview so we have an actual movie preview if I can make it work. Help. Escape. Okay. Sorry. View. Sorry. No, no, no, don't do that. Theater mode. There we go. I think if I hit play... Do I have to try that again with the sound up? Okay. Does anyone? Yeah. Cool. That's what was the difference. We did it in QuickTime before. Okay, if it blasts you away, I apologize. It's short. Is there a reason that it's not going back? Yes, there's someone in your back. Question version they sent me because the sound is going up and down.