Sublets

Moving out. Moving in. Never moving forward.

Sublets: Three Rooms, Two Roommates, One Big Problem.

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Acting=Nothing

Being a theatre actor results in nothing.

Now, that's not to say there is no worth, no value, in choosing this fraught path. I mean, quite simply, being a stage actor results in no thing. If you're going to get right down to it, the reward for years of hard work, years of checking off certain boxes--pricey conservatory training, unctuous agent, brutal auditions, effortlessly perfect-looking headshots--, years of seeing plays and reading plays and doing plays, is a fleeting one.


In school, if you complete your geometry homework and put enough time into studying, you will get back a piece of paper with an A on it. At your marketing job, hard work is directly related to tangible gain--if not a new home on the Cape, at least your name etched prettily under a new title like Director of something or Senior something or--best of all--President. The more you go to Crossfit, the less-sausagey you will look in those new LuluLemon yoga pants. 


Not in this field, friends. The fact of the matter is that, in this field, decades of work and uncomfortable audition shoes leave you with only a stack of misshapen programs, a couple (hopefully not too destructive) reviews from local papers, and a handful of haphazardly scrawled, congratulatory notes--but no product, no physical proof that you've done anything of worth. 


Even if you're so lucky as to walk away with a shaky tape of your ephemeral triumph (inevitably shot by your grandmother or boyfriend from the mezzanine on a camcorder, tracking you eagerly across the stage whether or not you're the key player in the scene), there is an unarguable loss in the transference. Upon first view, that precious VHS or DVD or Google Drive link reveals itself to be no more than an artifact, a vague, flat limbeck of your (god-willing) lauded moment. 


So as I sit here at this computer, into which I feel I have been staring for millennia, as I sit here feeling that the to-do list unfurling before me is unconquerable, as I sit here rapt with anxiety and fear of insufficiency, I must take comfort in this small truth: 

There are tangible fruits of this labor. 



Producing a web series is far from easy. It takes a great deal of personal and creative sacrifice. It is frustrating, daunting, draining, expensive. It requires resolve and bullheadedness and more than a few sleepless nights. It might necessitate an anti-anxiety med or two.
BUT when all is said and exported, in one short week, I will be able to step back and say, 
 

"That. 
I did that. 
I willed that into being. 
I surrounded myself with the most meticulous, exceptional, skilled people and
we made this thing.


Here. 
Sit down, clear the next 90 minutes of your life, and
click that link. 
I did that."

Cool, right?

Tune in Saturday, July 23rd for the release of Sublets, Season 1.

@SubletsSeries

"Art is a lie..."

"Art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” Pablo Picasso

Dolan was lucky enough to stumble upon the work of Andre Mauro somewhat accidentally. During a night of post-dinner-shift, employee bonding Dolan found himself at the pad of his co-workers and friends, Tania and Andre. While working with Tania, he had always heard that her boyfriend Andre was an artist. Little did he know, the answer to one of the biggest questions of the upcoming series: "What kind of artist is Tess, and how are we going to create her art?" would become clear the instant he stepped inside their place. First he noticed several bright abstracts on the walls, then a stack of canvases leaning against one wall, then another stack hiding behind a closet door!  "We have a whole storage container of Andre's art," Tania explained as Dolan gaped.  There were faces, nudes, sketches, works-in-progress and an easel covered in layers upon layers of paint. The cache of art was colorful, spontaneous, and so immense he felt like Aladdin walking into the cave of wonders, surrounded by riches he could not have imagined. In a flash it hit him: the ability to fill the Sublets set with a real collection of works from a singular artist would provide an honesty and an identity for Tess--her work reflecting the real artistic struggle to find inspiration and challenge oneself on a regular basis. Additionally it would be an honor and a privilege to help share such awesome work with the world. Dolan knew that Andre could be the master behind Tess' brush and the next day Dolan frantically called Caitlin and explained that THEY HAD TO CONVINCE ANDRE TO BE THE ARTIST BEHIND SUBLETS.

Luckily for Sublets Andre is a diamond in the rough and a super nice guy who was thrilled to collaborate!  After a celebratory drink to future mutual success we got to work determining what we needed from Andre and he got to work. We had notions of what we wanted the end result to be for the big gala episode, and sent him a list of specific ideas and stipulations, however, when it came down to it, we realized that putting limitations on an artist, especially one as interpretive and creative as Andre, was serving no one. Ultimately we released him from the constraints of our "idea" and allowed him to provide us with the painting that he felt represented him as an artist. The result was amazing. This brilliant guy was responsible for virtually every piece of art you see in Will & Tess' apartment, not to mention the very paint-splattered, authentic easel and brushes. We have no doubt that Andre is going places. His singular and emotive style is unapologetic, vibrant and honest. We cannot wait to ogle his work in museums someday. But 'til then, check him out at www.andre-mauro.com!

My worst apartment situation was when I lived in Cincinnati, OH. It was a 3-story house, my first apartment, as I was about to start community college. Most of the people who lived there were recovering drug addicts and it was just a depressing part of town, but the rent was dirt cheap. No one ever stayed for too long and I’m pretty sure I only endured a year—it’s one of those places I never think about.

The one upside was this guy on the first floor though, who had his whole room decked out, and was heavily into Buddhism. I’m glad I got to meet him. He used to travel to impoverished places in the world, and help them through whatever means as a freelancer or something. He was awesome.

In my last NYC apartment, I also dealt with giant cockroaches. One landed on me while I was asleep... and I don’t think i’ll ever be okay with that.
— AM

Andre Mauro moved to New York about 5 years ago to pursue an acting career, working in restaurants to make ends meet. Originally born in New York City, he had always known that he would come back. He soon grew tired of struggling to become an actor and put it on hold. About 3 years ago his former co-worker, and future wife, Tania, who had seen some sketches he had done and really liked them, helped him find his place in art. Tania has been his main source of feedback and inspiration since, along with his mother who is an artist and painter herself who inspired Andre at an early age. 

From the Cutting Room...

Cory has been with us from the very beginning. He carefully and brilliantly spliced together our initial pilot for the show from reams of scattered footage. Although we were new to the process and had given him very little to work with, somehow he managed to cut and paste his way to a delightful and seamless pilot. Watching this man work is an absolute joy. Fingers flying across the keyboard ocean of shortcuts, dragging and dropping takes faster than we can even articulate what we envision, syncing our wild gesticulations to match from one shot to the next, his mastery of editing is a sight to behold. And beyond his vast wealth of knowledge and expertise, Cory is endlessly patient. He allows us to be curious filmmakers, questioning each moment, pondering alternatives, going down one road for hours and then abruptly deciding it was better the way it was. Cory has managed to make post-production feel as collaborative and thrilling as being on set.

My freshman year at Keene State, I’m in a double with another guy, named Cory. Even spelled the same way, and most spell it with the E. Right away he and I are on different planes. He comes from a very quiet, reserved family in Vermont. Two of the first things he tells me is that he never had a TV until he was a teenager and his sister likes to connect knives (ok!). But we’re both film production majors and we at least have that in common.

He developed (or always had, not sure) this habit of not turning his alarm off went it would sound in the morning. He would simply roll over and try to ignore it. WTF! Seriously, he would put his pillow over his head and try to pretend that it’s not going off. And there I am, on the bottom bunk, just staring up like, dude, shut it off. Now this didn’t happen every day, but it did happen a number of times. Most of the time I was getting up around the same time anyway, I’m an only child, this is my first roommate in my life ever, so I’m trying to be cool and not start a conflict. But the last time it happened is when it caught me in a bad way one morning. It went off and as soon as he rolled over I just shouted up, “Dude TURN THAT FUCKING THING OFF NOW!”. A grumble, it went off, and it never happened again.

Then my buddies and I took that story, and wrote it into our short film Losers that we made our senior year as our ode to life and times at college. The moment and memory live forever, for better or worse!
— CS

Cory is an editor, as well as producer, writer and director, residing in New York City. Originally from New Hampshire and a graduate of Keene State College, Cory has worked on a range of different projects, including features, shorts, web series and any random skit a buddy of his wants to shoot. Just out of college he directed a feature film, Mother's Day and most recently can be seen starring(!) in Jef Needs Ice Cream, a short created with some of his closest friends and collaborators (and fellow KSC grads).

Can You Hear Me Now?

Gene is a dream. He is patient, smart and so very kind. This hard-working dude was a one-man department, 100% in charge of the sound quality of our series. Amidst the insanity of shooting he would calmly tape and re-tape our mic-cords, apologize for ripping off Dolan's modest chest hair (despite Dol's insistence the red mark was a 'badge of honor'), hide behind doors, stand on chairs, practically levitate above a scene to get his boom out of the shot. On episode 2, in particular, you will witness the brilliance and determination required from this man to mic the sublet Kevin. Kevin, played by the delightful Dustin Clodfelter, wears very little at times but our perseverant Eugene always found a way to capture whatever came out of his mouth regardless of costume (or lack thereof).  Gene was always focused and task oriented on set so it was great fun to whisper sweet nothings into our mics, only audible to Gene, and catch him grinning across the room. Talk about an inside joke! 

My main man Mike is my hero today, but he lived like a wild animal when we were roommates. I caught him using the toilet as a mop bucket. When his brother lived with us, I’d quite often find a perfect, hershey kiss droplet of poo on the bathroom floor. While drawing a bath, he got distracted and flooded the half the apartment.
— EK

Eugene Kim says:

I love breakfast burritos. 

I'm from the Bay Area. 

I wish for courtesy police on the subway. 

I record and edit sound.

thank you for being here. thank you for the support. thank you for sharing.