- Daina Krumins |
- 2010 |
- 108 minutes
Like many artists, I don't know why I do what I do. Or at least that part of my mind that knows the reasons for things and understands causes and effects, doesn't know. And yet, there is a part of my mind that does know, but doesn't have the ability to translate that awareness into words.
The best I can do is to walk around it and describe what can be described in words.
From the time I first started making films, I've wanted to make a feature film but there had been insurmountable problems. I could not afford to make a feature-length film in 16mm, much less in 35mm. Also, as a woman, and not only a woman, but a woman with Asperger's, I could not "network" my way into any sort of social position where I could convince other people to finance a feature film.
Because of the non-linear way my mind works, any feature length film I might make could not have any legitimate story, or even believable characters, that an audience could follow. The only kind of story that might be possible would be a giant red herring, a fake story, like one of Hitchocock's "McGuffins," and that's exactly what I did for "Glass."
In 1994 I read Uta Frith's "Autism and Asperger's Syndrome" and began to understand that I could only make a film from my own point of view and that most people would not find the film acceptable.
But then . . . digital filmmaking arrived and, as we all know, it is practically FREE. I completed my earlier film, Summer Light, digitally and received a fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and started to make "Glass."
The people who helped me make the film knew about my Asperger's, particularly from a book I helped write called "Women From Another Planet?" The actors were especially helpful; while I was setting up the lights and camera, they would sit down and rewrite the dialog. They understood that although my savant-level visual ability can be trusted, my ability to write dialog is . . . well, dubious at best. Also they were not put off by my eccentricity and if I said something peculiar they would just let it slide. Wonderful!