A fallen vegetarian, a rising filmmaker

Editor's note: We asked Brangien Davis to create a movie to help kick off our Three-Minute Masterpiece contest, and lo and behold, she did it! Here's the last of three installments of her filmmaking chronicle.

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"Art is never finished, only abandoned." So said Leonardo, or Picasso, or George Lucas, depending which Google search results you choose to believe. No matter who said it, it's a wise maxim, whether you're creating a virtuoso painting, a blockbuster film, or an amateur three-minute movie about ham.

If you've been following the pulse-pounding drama of my ham saga (which appeared in the last two Sunday papers), you know that as part of the Seattle Times' "Three-Minute Masterpiece" contest I've been attempting to bring a filmic vision to life.

I wanted to portray the struggle of a long-time vegetarian against the many temptations of ham. Based on a true story (my own), I hoped to convey the powerful pull of ham, particularly in the face of an endless parade of hummus sandwiches, veggie burgers, and, regrettably, soy-ham.

My initial idea was to craft a documentary, but it turned out to be more of a docudrama — something at least based in truth, similar to one of those re-enactments on shows like "Unsolved Mysteries." In my case, however, the mystery was readily solved. (This vegetarian woman was last seen lingering in the ham section at the grocery store. Why? Because ham is loads more delicious than Tofurky).

Though, much like my colleagues Leonardo, Picasso and Lucas, I could've fussed with my opus ad infinitum, a deadline forced me to wrap it up. But I believe the end result captures my filmic vision with extreme accuracy — in Technicolor, no less. Now that it's finished, or, rather, abandoned, I can reflect on several key lessons learned.

1. Movies are hard. I spent at least 30 hours working on three minutes of film, and it would've taken at least 30 more if it weren't for the help of a few life-saving friends.

The proliferation of digital camcorders and make-your-own movie software suggest that cinematography is a snap, but even with these user-friendly innovations, filmmaking is still a long and winding road. Consequently, I'm looking at movies a little differently now, with a lot more respect — even for the lousy ones.

2. Editing is everything. If I hadn't had the expert help of Sandy Cioffi (film and video professor at Seattle Central Community College), there is simply no way the footage I shot would've been transformed into anything resembling my hopes for the movie.

While I did some rudimentary editing, Cioffi brought out the big guns, nipping and tucking multiple angles together, and adding sound seamlessly, when it looked impossible to me. The film really took shape in the editing room, especially since I had blown off making a storyboard (hubris will get you every time!).

3. Veggie ham tastes nothing — nothing — like real ham. I had been fooling myself for years, convinced that despite its resemblance to a fruit roll-up, my soy-ham was pretty close to the real thing. Having not experienced ham for 15 years, my mouth was an easy mark. "It's ham, it's ham, it's ham," I would insist, choking down an anemic sandwich. But when I was finally reunited with actual, beautiful ham — in the name of my art, of course — my taste buds shouted, "Holy Moses, now THIS is HAM!"

Which brings me to my current dietary status. I suppose I can't legally call myself a vegetarian anymore, since I've decided that if there happens to be some good ham in the vicinity — organic, free-range ham from pigs who've been read to and slaughtered nonviolently in their sleep — then gosh darn it, I can have some ham. But having no interest in poultry or beef, nor any other pork product, I'm not quite willing to live under the carnivore label. I'm thinking something more like, "hamatarian." Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I present you with my Three-Minute Masterpiece, such as it is: "An Open Letter to Ham."

Brangien Davis: brangiendavis@yahoo.com