Palace

"Palace" is a result of my time attending a Christian college in rural Indiana. I observed how culturally distinct the small town residents were from the (typically more privileged) college students. Being one of few students to live off campus in the small town of Upland, I would notice two kinds of cars drift through Joyce Ave: Shiny SUVs with campus parking stickers or aging cars with a hand dangling a cigarette out the window.

Rural Indiana is this odd place where real estate is cheap, minorities are isolated, nutrition is gentrified, and colleges are everywhere. It's also a place of spectacular beauty. There are pockets of encouraging growth in Grant County. There are good people fighting for their communities to live full lives. Indiana also has some of the best sunsets in the world—a miraculous amber glaze encouraging the grain, corn, hay, and soybeans fulfill their daily dance. But the grey winters are long and merciless. And basketball. People who love basketball.

In its most general sense, "Palace" treads the well-covered thematic terrain of "every stranger has a story." It's interlocking ensemble points to the sacredness of the every day and every person. It allows its main characters to narratively indulge, but shifts the paradigm of subjectivity without warning. It is at times abrasive and ugly. I hope it's sometimes humorous too.

The vastness of America offers a unique opportunity for families to divorce themselves from one another and explore the greener grasses of the coasts or urban areas, so I also sought to portray relationship carried out through phone calls (or lack thereof).

I wrote "Palace" the summer before my senior year, and independently shot it during my last semester of college. This project is irrevocably tied to the perspective of someone on the border between campus and town, observing the paradoxical behavior of myself and my county.