Where to Shoot an Epic About Afghanistan? China, Where Else?
December 31, 2006 | Leave a Comment
Filming of The Kite Runner, NYT:
In addition to keen eyes Ms. Dowd needed extraordinary patience. She spoke, for example, of having to drink 45 cups of tea with the director of one French-run school in Kabul before the director trusted her enough to let her tour his 25 classrooms. He then granted her all of three mornings to complete her search.
On her ninth classroom, running out of tricks, she asked the students who was the naughtiest kid in class. “There was one child who stood out as the most extroverted, but right next to him there was another boy who was quiet, but who was responding to the scene,” said Ms. Dowd, speaking of an 11-year-old named Kekiria Ebrahimi. “There was a special little moment of energy from him, and it stayed with me. He ended up playing Amir.”
A precociously witty 10-year-old, Ahmad Khan Mahmiidzada, plays the role of Hassan, the servant boy who is betrayed by his best friend, Amir. The boys did not know each other before being brought to western China for the filming, but off camera they became close. And while there is no confusing reality and fiction for either, at a fundamental level the story in which they are acting rubs against the grain of their friendship and seems to trouble them.
Here.
1998: Dropkick Murphys
December 30, 2006 | Leave a Comment
1998: Dropkick Murphys, Tower Theater, Salt Lake City, Utah. Photo by Trent Nelson
As always, clicking on the images will take you to the original in the PhotoShelter photo archive, where prints are available.
12.11.1986
December 30, 2006 | Leave a Comment
Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.
These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. -Trent
Thursday, December 11, 1986
Today was my last day in Rexburg. I was going to drive home tonight. Pam would also be leaving for home, and her boyfriend.
Pam and I went to Pizza Hut for a garlic bread dinner. We talked for a while, and she made me promise not to “scam on Tina” on the drive home (I was dropping Tina off in Sacramento). We went to her place and hung out in her bedroom for a long time. We kissed and talked, we exchanged necklaces. Her boyfriend is coming out next semester and she’s worried that he’ll leave the church if she breaks up with him. She converted him, and I think she’s the reason he’s doing it. I was sad, but I understood; that had been the agreement of the ten-day fling. Ten days only, and this was the last one. It would soon be over. It was starting to hit me hard and then she grabbed my hand and wrote these words on my palm: “Trent… I love you, too.”
I can’t begin to explain how much those words inked on my hand meant to me.
It was curfew. I had to leave her apartment. We still had a half-hour where we could sit together in the lounge. But after that it was time to leave. We kissed a bunch and then I saw that Pam was crying. I was so touched. It made me feel so special. I knew right then that I had never loved another person as much as her.
I left, and parked alone on the hill by the intramural football fields. I cried so hard.
I saw Pam one more time before we left, at 2:30am when I picked up Tina. We exchanged letters, kissed, and I began the seventeen-hour drive home.
(38: The minute I got home I went out into the garage and stuck my hand on the copy machine, to preserve Pam’s words on my hand. And with that photo-copy the series ends.)
1996: Madball
December 29, 2006 | Leave a Comment
1996: Madball, Showcase Cafe, San Antonio, Texas. Photo by Trent Nelson
As always, clicking on the images will take you to the original in the PhotoShelter photo archive, where prints are available.
12.10.1986
December 29, 2006 | Leave a Comment
Note: My short-lived attendance at Ricks College in the small town of Rexburg, Idaho twenty years ago was a defining stage of my life. Mostly for unpleasant reasons. Taking an extremely impulsive anarchist skate punk from California and putting them in the Rexburg of 1986, what can you expect? My being an 18-year-old with the maturity of a 9-year-old didn’t help, either. But it was in Rexburg that I fell in love with photography and abandoned my academic career to follow my passion.
These entries are written from the journals I kept when I was 18. -Trent
Wednesday, December 10, 1986
I woke up found that my car was attacked last night. Three tires were slashed and my license plates were stolen. I had the police make a report, got the car towed, and got new tires. I found out later that some returned missionary had been arrested in the parking lot, all hysterical and drunk. A random attack.
SNFU-Shoe spiked my hair (now a mohawk) and we took Tina and Pam to Idaho Falls. We came back and found that our band was playing at a party. It was at Duane’s. We played for a while, then the cops came. Pam had taken off with my car so I had to wait for her return. Some drunk “icky” girl tried to pick up on me, then Pam showed up and rescued me. We went over by K-mart and parked, talking for a while. I knew it was against the rules of our non-committal ten-day fling, but I told her I loved her. She didn’t say she loved me back.
We went to the Galleria just after midnight, getting in free. A lot of people were hassling me about my mohawk, so we left after just ten minutes.
Back at #20, Pam and I were in the front room. Roommate Charlie come out and wouldn’t leave, trying to be a chaperone. After a half-hour he finally left and we made-out on the couch, then went to sleep on my bed.
