Today I participated in a fundraiser for a great non-profit in San Diego called San Diego Writers, Ink. It's peopled with writers who help other writers become better writers, and whenever I participate in something they put on, I'm not disappointed.

But somewhere, deep down, is a nagging little voice asking me why I'm working to raise money for another non-profit besides my own. But that voice really needs to pipe down. Why? Because I'm working to raise money for the non-profit I work for every day. Yes, EVERY day. In case you didn't know, Media Arts Center San Diego has been around for quite a while, spreading the gospel of digital media and storytelling since its inception. That gospel has grown to include camps for kids, documentary classes for teenagers, partner programs with California libraries, and workshops for adults. Everything from how to take pictures with your fancy new DSLR to how to build your own steadicam.

Oh, and we also show movies.

That's my job. I often get an odd reaction from people when they find out what I do. "You mean you get to watch movies? All the time?"

Yes, all the time. I'm lucky enough to have a job that includes something most people (including myself) enjoy. I get to watch movies, meet filmmakers, and sometimes visit film festivals. I'm not going to tell you that it's not as glamorous as it sounds, because you wouldn't believe me anyway, and that's like complaining that your Maserati doesn't purr at 20 mph like it does at 80. Small potatoes.

So yes, I do love what I do. I love watching movies. But I also feel like I'm participating in something that matters. Yes, the education programs that are provided by Media Arts Center are wonderful. There is a wonderful staff of people that attend to all the details and ensure that they are enriching for kids young and old. The video production programs are also wonderful. Media Arts has managed to help a plethora of organizations that don't have access to the digital media tools and knowledge that we have in order to help them send their message around the internet and back again. Because that's what we do: provide access.

So now we have this Digital Gym, where you can get training on all things digital, like the YMCA, but for your brain and creativity instead of your body. And we also have a movie theater, which is where I come in.


But how does that fit in? Sometimes I feel like I'm not doing enough, not contributing enough, or not do-gooding enough. And then I reflect.

I've been at the organization for six years, programming films for the San Diego Latino Film Festival, Que Viva! Cine Latino, Cinema en tu Idioma, and a number of other community screenings. We've partnered with the SD Asian Film Festival, the Jewish Film Festival, Horrible Imaginings Film Festival, and countless other community groups to get messages out and spur cross-cultural dialogue within the San Diego community. Now I program the Digital Gym Cinema, and I'm constantly asking myself, what is this film for?

It's simple, really. Film is for people. It's for ideas. It's for creativity and sharing. There is not one single filmmaker on the planet who makes a film to watch alone in their own living room. Films are made to be seen, by groups of people, to share something that filmmaker thinks is important. It's just up to me, as the curator of the Digital Gym Cinema, to try to figure out what the community most wants, or what the community most needs.

So if I may, I'd like to reflect on what's come along so far. A film about the danger of greed (The Brass Teapot). A film about a family dealing with the separation of living on both sides of the border (Aqui y Alla). A film about zero-emissions motorcycle racing (Charge). A film about French capitulation to the Nazis during WWII (La Rafle). A film about women in India as the country develops (The World Before Her). A film about the pollution of our land and oceans (Trashed). These aren't all of them, but they all have a story to tell that I think is worth telling. Some films were more well attended than others. I take no offense.

What I am always looking for is the movie that is simply a beautiful work of art. Something about it reaches down deep and pulls at you, whether it's the music, the visuals, the story, or a combination of all of those that keeps you in your seat for a couple of hours (or longer!) because you can't take your eyes and ears away from the screen. And sometimes I hear, "How is that helping people?"

I despise that kind of response. Movies are art. They contain art. They blend art. And I still believe in art for art's sake. Many years ago, I found myself in Paris at the Louvre. I went through the galleries and found myself in front of the Mona Lisa. I didn't stand there and wonder how that was helping people. I admired it, and the other works, as something that makes our lives a little less dull. An expression of something someone wanted to share.

Let me be clear: artists (and filmmakers) are not required to change the world. If Iron Man has taught us anything, it's that audiences don't expect movies to change the world. They expect something to be shared. A story, an idea, a thought. Some artists are activists, and I think that's great. Some are not, and that's great, too. But what all of them are doing is engaging. 

This is what I strive to program at the Digital Gym Cinema. So as we look forward, I'm excited about the variety of shares coming our way. A film about the coming-of-age of a teenager from the Dagreb tribe (The Lesser Blessed). A transgender story of impossible, unextinguishable love and romance (Laurence Anyways). A film about the complicated world of Somali pirates (Stolen Seas). A poetic journey from schoolbus to public transportation in Guatemala (La Camioneta). A film about two musicians who tragically died before their time, but not before their genius rooted (Greetings From Tim Buckley).

I sincerely hope to create engagement. What engages you?

Seriously, is Kickstarter busted? And yes, that's a double meaning. Kickstarter has been around for only 4 years, but has significantly changed the way we look at funding art, music, movies, and even inventions. But in the last couple of weeks, Kickstarter has changed to such a degree that many are questioning the model. So, did people finally figure out how to really exploit what Kickstarter is about, or did they just break it altogether?

When the whole thing started, it seemed so innocent. Artists who had no money were finally able to find funding for their projects, either through their friends, or a network of strangers that truly believed in what they were doing. People were inventing things, and since they didn't necessarily have the means to put up cash for manufacturing their doo-dads, they found people willing to buy their products and basically front the cash in order to get them made. It was a fantasyland of ideas and wonder. I even found a project recently that was just some guy who wanted to draw cats for people. His enthusiasm was undeniable (who doesn't want a cute drawing of a cat?), but alas, the artistry wasn't quite there, and his project wasn't funded.

So, Kickstarter became a place to find ideas, inventions, and all manner of emerging artists in all sorts of media. And then came Veronica Mars. Veronica Mars the television show lasted for three seasons, then vanished suddenly with very little warning and no fanfare. The series didn't even get the normal series finale that is afforded to most shows. It simply went away. Many fans were outraged. Mind you, this is a rabid bunch. They really can't get enough of their spunky gumshoe (actually, the show was pretty good), and wanted to see her move on to the FBI and 'big time' crimes. They wanted to see Veronica get her guy-- both the criminal and the love interest. But sadly, that never came. For years, there was chatter about a movie, but every time the gossip got off the ground, it quickly got shot down. 

Then Rob Marshall (the creator of Veronica Mars) got an idea. He would go straight to the fans. Warner Brothers gave their blessing that if he could raise $2 million, they would support the marketing of the film (which is actually very expensive). So he opened up a Kickstarter campaign, and lo and behold, within 2 days (2 DAYS!) fans had pledged the minimum amount necessary. By the time the campaign ended 30 days later, many Kickstarter records had been broken, Marshall ended up with over $5 million, and it looks like the Veronica Mars movie is a go. But the story doesn't end there.

Then comes Zach Braff. Many people know and love him from the TV show Scrubs. Some remember his film Garden State. And still others revile him for "ruining" Oz. Whatever the case, he decided to jump into the Kickstarter ring. And yet again, we saw a well-known celebrity manage to raise a large amount of money ($2.2 million as of this writing) in a short amount of time (6 days). However, there is a noticeable difference. In Braff's project, no amount of money can buy you a copy of the film on DVD. Or Blu-Ray. For $100 you can see the film in certain cities. For $150 you can even get a copy of Garden State (I guarantee Target has it for much less). So what's the deal?

Normally, when people fund a project, one of the incentives is that they will get a copy of the finished product. Not so in this case. Why? Because Braff wants to sell that, too. You see, big studios pay big money for the rights to distribute movies on DVD and Blu-Ray. So, in effect, Braff gets paid twice. You pay him to make the movie, then you pay to see the movie, then you pay for a copy of the movie. Are you starting to see how this is broken?

On a side note, it is interesting to note that both the Veronica Mars project and Zach Braff's project list being an 'actor' with a spoken line as one of the perks. Meaning, you pay $10,000, they let you say something on camera. Seems legit, right? Except when you realize that they are supposed to pay you for that. There are hundreds, no, thousands of actors out there trying to make a living, and somehow you are supposed to pay for the privilege to say "Here's your check, sir."? Seems like a complete negation of the craft of acting, but this is somewhat debatable (Keanu Reeves, anyone?). Anyway..

So, here's the deal. Has Kickstarter "gone Hollywood"? Is there any room left for regular people who have spectacular ideas? Is fundraising really just like being the prom king or queen, where the person who gets the most money is the one that's also the most popular? Is this how we're going to fund art?

I say this: don't forget about the world of grants. Yes, it is tough. You have to do a lot of writing. But you also have to have a project worth funding. Most grant committees care more about the merit of the work than how many Facebook friends or Twitter followers you have. Or how long you've been in syndication. Maybe we should start a fund for art that is blind to names, that looks at the work instead. Who's with me? Maybe I'll start a Kickstarter campaign to fund a grant that's for real artists. Who will give me $10?

I'd love to hear your take on this.