It was a beautiful, sunny day in San Francisco when we posed a question to passersbys. We asked the same question to very different people and each answer took us somewhere different. We didn't quite know what the crowded city streets would bring.
It’s a simple question and the answers can lead us anywhere. So go ahead, ask yourself…
This is our recent take on the worldwide Fifty People One Question project. To learn more about Fifty People One Question, please visit fiftypeopleonequestion.com
Four Tet 'She just likes to fight'
Edited, filmed, and presented by Lyndsey Romjue, Brendan Austin, Tessa Wimmer, and Danielle Tirpack
2011 students at Tamalpais High School
Our was assignment was to find an interesting person and interview them, putting together a digital memoir of some aspect of their life. The requirements: 2-3 minutes and no videos. Those were our only instructions. With 2 days of interviewing, 3 months of editing, and 500 pictures, this is the outcome.
This video was inspired by the One in 8 Million videos from the NY Times. http://www.nytimes.com/packages/html/nyregion/1-in-8-million/index.html
A visual representation of a poem written by Lyndsey Romjue, modeled after George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From" poem.
Second Semester Junior year.
Where I'm From:
I am from circles.
From sixteen steps and cherry blossoms,
from unknown uncles and the click of a button.
I am from grapefruits, guavas, and walnuts;
from sourgrass and wet slides,
shooting stars and trampolines;
unwanted glances and absent pride.
I am from soft sand and seashells,
from worn pages and yellow wings.
I am from constant beats that strike the ground;
returned letters in black ink.
I am from courage.
I am from the hunger of physicality,
from turquoise rings and ancient faces
and fractured explanations.
I am from overturned logs and blue stamps;
from a box of letters that won’t be sent,
from red leather and purple clouds
and wet letters on dirty cement.
I am from Starcatchers and chronicles,
from a triangle of acceptance.
I am from a walk on water
and twisted remembrance.
I am from silver keys and half-hearted smiles,
from music boxes and fairy rings.
I am from silent flames
and the Flowers of Guatemala,
from minds that overflow with rain.
I am from childish hope,
from the loss of control,
I am from sleeping pills and blinds wide open,
lifted lids that puncture the soul.
I am from stripes of overgrown passionate apprehension,
from feet that refuse to touch the ground.
I am from the back-lit silhouette of anticipation,
from a sprig of rosemary that can’t be found.
I am from the fear of yesterday;
from shoes too tight and memories gone sour,
from the seduction of sadness,
and the end of the hour.