Rico Rodriguez will be in my Entourage!

Ok...my image consultant is going to kill me, nevertheless, I do not know what other way to describe Rico Rodriguez, the child star from the TV series, "Modern Family" than to say "He is the 'Coolest' kid in Hollywood!"

I worked a Promo for his K-mart web-series in Times Square and actually had a chance to Pow-wow with the little star for a brief minute. It was my roommate, Cate's Birthday so I had Rico give her a little shout-out... Enjoy!

The best part about this kid is he instantly just stands up straight and begins to smile once cameras are put on him, whether they are big news cameras or just little camera-phone devices, he smiles so graciously and perks up so lovingly, you can;t help but want to invite him to hang out with the big kids when you play football on saturday! When I am famous... Rico Rodriguez will be in my Entourage!

OH MY GOSH! Look at that crack... or should I say chasm! My soul was humbled today in the presence of anatomical grandeur... Photo by Martin Funck.

The Heretical Book of Ellis

This Sunday I volunteered to teach Sunday School at Church, and here's what I came up with!

The lesson in our manual was Lesson 5: The Creation. Being the visual artist that I am I decided to make a supplementary handout for the class that I was willing to draw myself that illustrated the simple steps from our pre-existence in heaven through the seven days of creation. A simple task right?

Well, by the time I laid pencil on paper, or better said "inexpensive bic pen on paper," I started improving upon my original design. I have always been intrigued by natural science and physics, and I was actually a physics major my first year in college. I have always been intrigued by how much true Science and true Religion actually do not conflict, especially in the arena of The Big Bang theory and Evolution so I decided to include a few side-notes in the visual handout I was making.

As you can see below the earth icon, the first of my "few" side notes were notes reminding me to explain that the King James translation of the Bible was weak and modern translations of the original hebrew show that in the first "period" God separated the heavens from the earth, thus allotting 500 billion years for the Big Bang o do its job naturally. At that point I figured that if I was willing to make a few sidenotes on the Big Bang, why not include a few more about evolution in the Old Testament... so I did (see more below Earth Icon).

This of course became an addiction.

After the Evolution notes I could not resist showing how, though man did not come from monkeys, he definitely descended from simpler forms of human life, i.e. Homo Erectus, Homo Habilus, and so on. Some of these cavemen were massive, and though homo sapiens eventually evolved alongside them to become the chosen vessels into which God "breathed life," that these massive earlier men suddenly went away, thus prompting the more than seven references to giants on the Old Testament and Book of Moses! (See Genesis 6:4)

And...now that we've conquered Big Bang, Evolution, and Giants, and at least one major Old Testament's observation of paranormal phenomenon, then why not take the full plunge and talk about Isaiah's observation of flying orbs, german foo-fighters, and how "UFO"s, both foreign and domestic, and the string theories and space-time continuems that make space their travel possible can explain God, Heaven, and a whole lot of other things!

By the time I was done, this masterpiece was the final result(see attached photo)! It was a Saturday night and I didn't want to have to break the Sabbath by photocopying my little eight and a half by eleven piece of heaven, (Yes, this was my Saturday night) so I quickly ran to the local FedEx-Kinkos on Park Ave.

Unfortunately, the 8.5 by 11 piece of paper I originally drew on was so loaded to the margins with pictures that I had to photocopy it onto an 11 1/2 by 17 piece of paper fro it to fit. To help me figure out the machine, the local kinkos guru, we will call him Marcus, and his expertise were enlisted. He came over to the machine helped me load the document, and then raised his eyebrows when the final products came out. He asked for an explanation of everything on the page and we got lost in doctrinal conversation for the last half-hour that the store was open. Before finally peeling ourselves away from eachother, upon the stern reminder of the manager that the store was closing, I gave him the first copy of my hand-out (now a full-blown double-page spread titled "The heretical Book of Cardon: Non-doctrinal musings for Sunday School") the copies of the prophet cycle and the origins of the book of Mormon I had drawn for him right there in the store, along with a copy of my business card and an open invitation to church, all stapled into one.

He thanked me heartly and then proclaimed, "You should write a book, man, really, you should write a book!"

I think I will...

The best Rappers in NYC are homeless (photo pending)

P-diddy and 50 cent,

Step aside, because homeless person number 34267 just started breakin' down right next to me on the Staten Island ferry. And let me tell you, he's got flow! The homeless here in New York are an elevated breed. They rap, they pontificate, and they profane with a shameless abandon to which us performing artists can only aspire.

What is this guy doing going to Staten Island? He should be on his way to Universal Records!

Pirates of Staten Island

The Dread Pirate Blackbeard ain't got nothin' on us!

Yesterday, a storm was a brewin', but that didn't keep Martin Funck and I from going out on our planned tour on the Staten Island Ferry. Not wind, nor rain, nor... I can't remember the phrase, but you get the point. We took the 1 line down to the South Ferry Station where the Staten Island Ferry awaited us. The Ferry is one of the great public benefits of New York City. It is a well kept barge that leaves every half hour from Manhattan and with relative speed transports thousands (if full to capacity) of people to Staten Island. It is just small enough of a boat to remember you are in water as it dips and floats into the docking bay, yet it is large enough to provide a firm footing while it cruises through the bay, slicing through wakes and waves instead of being bounced around my them.

About those waves...

The first one, pictured above caught me by surprise. Martin and I should have seen it coming though. We wanted to get good nigh-time shots of the Manhattan skyline in the background as we returned from Staten Island toward home. The second floor of the boat was packed with people trying to do the same with their camera-phones and i-pod touches, so we headed downstairs. Outside were only a few young tourists from Belgium huddled against the doors, as far from the edge as they could get, with their hooded jackets completely secured over their heads. Martin and I looked at each other with excitement, seeing all that space to take photos. We assumed that the bottom deck, exposed more openly to the recently broken rainstorm, was all that was chasing the cowardly land-lubbers upstairs to huddle around their ipods and camera phones. Well... there was a lot more than that chasing them upstairs.

No sooner had Martin and I set up shop for a wide-angle lens glory shot of Captain Cardon Ellis braving the unforgiving storm than, BOOM, the first of what would become periodic bursts of epic tidal waves hit the deck, roared upwards in a plume of glory, and attacked the bow of the ship with anyone else crazy enough to be in the deck with it. Yeah... that was us.

Big Business vs. Small Business!

Acting is interesting when you are a six foot five inch tall, slender, male. Just this week I was cast as "Big Business" in a FedEx commercial produced by Manny Castro of FVGproductions. Apparently, despite the fact my grandfather escaped abject eastern European poverty, fought the Nazis in the Polish Brigade of the RAF, and emigrated to America with nothing but the clothes on his back, because his chromosomes are male and light-skinned, and look good in a suit, less than one generation later) I will be cast to represent everything liberals have branded as wrong with capitalism, America, and the world... a.k.a. "The Man."

It was a very entertaining shoot. The gist is as follows. I represent Big Business and I am mentoring several "proteges," small business owners, and showing them the ropes of making a profit. All of these actors were 5 foot to 5 foot six inches, so you could see there was a dramatic visual contrast in the cast. All of my omniscient capitalist wisdom is summed up into one piece of advice, "to Think Fed-Ex first for all your shipping needs." Supposedly, FedEx's 1800 office locations and online small business shipping tools make it possible for small businesses to pull more profits.

I do not know how true these claims are, as I have never owned a small business that included shipping. I do know however, that when we had to get the signs made for the commercial, the same signs you can see in the attached picture, we first went to FedEx/Kinko's and they were going to charge us 30 dollars per sign so we crossed the street to Staples and got the same signs made for half the price!

Under the Island (The Forgotten Underground)

One of the biggest blessings of having friends who are profesisonal, award-winning or up-and-coming photographers is that you get A LOT of unforgettable and impressive photos. If anyone reading this ever wants to feel better about how they look I suggest they schedule a session with Salvadore Brandt or Martin Funck and their self-conciousness will go away. These men are magicians. The latter, Martin Funck, my roomate for the month of March, who I recently also met in Berlin, is the author of the attached photo.

I met Martin while visiting my friend, Emanuel Millar, on set at Babelsberg Studios in Berlin. Martin had met Manny last year as an extra in "Inglorious Bastards" and Manny (Emmanuel's nickname) invited him to come to America to pursue more of his modeling and photography career. Once again, while in Berlin, I was the benefactor of knowing Manny and his circle of artist friends and I met another master. This time, his month-long planned trip to America fell perfectly into my roomate, Catherine's, month-long planned exodus from Manhattan so we struck-up a roommate bargain for the month of March.

Two days after I arrived back from Berlin, Martin touched down at JFK airport, camera bag ready, and flash-batteries charged. Martin Thanked me today for "always having good ideas," about photography. I realize my good ideas are nothing more than inviting him along with me on my daily adventures and social gatherings, introducing him to interesting people, and then mentioning to them that he is an award-winning German photographer, who would love to take complimentary photos of them for his portfolio. Of course, no-one hates good photos of themselves so the people I introduce him to become "good ideas." Nevertheless, I thanked him for the compliment.

One of the "good ideas" we met this week was Lindsey Campbell. A dear friend of mine from college, Lauren Campbell, has a sister, the young woman in the photo with me, who recently moved to New York to attend a prestigious hair academy that will soon be featured in a television pilot. Anyway, no sooner had I met her and some friends on Monday for our weekly FHE social gathering at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park, then Martin was fixing a shoot-date with her for that Saturday.

Lindsey had a beautiful smile and is one of the only girls who I've ever seen pull of bangs well, so I decided she would indeed be a "good idea" to shoot.

I often accompany Martin in his photography escapades as a liaison between him and the American Public. It's also just a selfish guise to have some fun in New York and vicariously make people happy by presenting them with a beautiful piece of art, in which they are the focus. In this case, Lindsey showed up to our apartment, we took some photos of her in variously natural lit parts of our Gramercy apartment, and then decided that we would head out into the grundge of the neighborhoods south of us to try and get some "edgier" shots of Lindsey.

I had mentioned hearing of an abandoned subway station somewhere downtown and talked about funky graffiti that could be spotted in the East Village so we headed out into the downpour of Manhattan. I credit God for having led us to this perfect location. I had no idea where an abandoned subway station was, nor which ones would even look grimy enough for some "edgier shots," as New York City's standard of cleanliness per station varies drastically. Nevertheless, we headed out into the cold and followed our general impulse to head southeast. Before we knew it we found ourselves in the Delancey Station of the J train South into Brooklyn.

While inspecting the station we saw that way at the end of the station, there used to be a mezzanine and a stairway that led somewhere but was now sealed off. The subway station was ancient so we knew the sealed-off door had to represent passage to some lone, forgotten underground. Luckily, through some man-holes carved into the side of the station, one could see that many years ago, before the station was modernized, there was an entire other terminal about 30 feet in front of where the current subway station was. To get to it, however, one could no longer go up the stairs and walk over, you had to jump onto the live tracks in between subway passings, climb through the maintenance slots over the electric-current lines that power the subway, and jump into the next station.

So... we did.

It was definitely a dangerous manuever, and probably somehow a violation of the Patriot Act, but nevertheless, a completely worthwhile endeavour. We ran to the end of the track, climbed down the steel service ladder onto the tracks, hopped through the service hole and then found ourselves in a different world. This half of the forgotten station was covered in graffiti and trash. So long had it been since life traveled through this station that the iron subway tracks had actually been ripped up or dislodged in some parts. Everything was covered in a magnetic, ashen, dust. It was silent, and the darkness swallowed any echoes.

It was actually a somewhat scary experience. Everyone knows there are people that live in the subways and the place was so completely dark and amplified each whisper so much, and there were so many orifices in that underground arena from which spooky noises could come that one could not help but get a little goose-bumped on occasion. Complex and cankered ventilation shafts bored into the ceiling of the subway tunnel, brilliant engineering in the 30's to naturally syphon carbone-dioxide-ridden gas into the fresh air above, would occasionally emit the eerie soundtrack of a whisper whisper of people walking on the sidewalk, over 30 feet overhead. There was also a mattress and well-covered bedding arrangement in that part of the station that looked recently occupied, who's unknown owner was out doing unimaginable errands, so we knew we were not alone.

Because the J train eventually shared the tunnel with this abandoned station again about 120 yards further down the tunnel, the ocasional passing of the J train would be preambled by a rumbling you could feel in your knees and then a light at the end of the tunnel we were standing in. And though we could see there were not even tracks in some of the places were were standing to lead the train to us, you still felt doomed as the J train came hurtling down the tunnel, it's deafening roar and screaming brakes finally screeching to a halt only 15 feet east of us. I couldn't help but think that some crazy serial killer or simply coked-up murder-loon would easily have enough time to hide in the shadows until a train was going to pass, and as it did, he could leasurely take us by surprise, killing both of us with a knife or a shotgun, or a bazooka for that matter, so deafening was the noise, and never even alarm people in the train station next door because anyone who's been to New York knows the passing subways sound like screeching karackens for 45 seconds as they hurtle past (a terrible run-on sentence, but complete nonetheless).

At that point my mind was just having too much, and far too dark, of fun and so I had to calm myself saying, "if God led us to this great photo-shoot spot, I doubt he would be putting us in harms way." Nevertheless, the space did inspire a treatment for a "Blair-Witch Project" meets "the Duel" screenplay whose treatment I will write tonight!

All horror-movie thoughts aside, we had a great shoot, met the homeless man whose mattress shared our abandoned train station mid-shoot, and returned over the tracks and into civilization without injury. We even passed an MTA employee on the way out that saw us emerge from the probably forbidden domain and he seemed to shrug it off as not a problem. I love New York. Check back soon for links to the entire cache of photos from the shoot that will be posted as soon as Martin finishes "touching them up" a.k.a. removing my copious acne from them in photoshop.

Money-Grubbin' Publican and Moneychanger!

I always knew I was a sinner, just not what kind... tonight I found out that I am indeed, a publican.

For those of you not swamped in New Testament terminology from birth, a publican was basically a Jew in Old Testament times that did the dirty job of collecting taxes from his own people on behalf of the imposing Roman Empire... and often overcharging their own people to skim a little extra off the top. They were basically the IRS, but worse, because you couldn't hire a lawyer to fight them.

Tonight I became one with my publican chi, on accident.

A week ago, I realized I needed to upgrade my look a little bit. I had a light green "incase" backpack for my 17 inch Macbook Pro that I had used throughout college. This was great in college because it matched my vel-cro Vans "prison issue" sneakers, t-shirts, and my buzz cut, nevertheless, now that I am trying to peddle myself as a legitimate actor and talented artist/deep thinker, a green backpack no longer cuts it. "In-case" backpacks and pea-coats don't match, nevertheless, I still have my Macbook Pro and it is still essential to my existence, so a new bag was necessary.

I ended up purchasing a Ful Messenger Bag online. It's inspiration was the exact copy my room mate Catherine's "Public Enemies" bag, her father had gifted her after he worked on the Michael Mann movie. It fit my 17 inch laptop and had a much more artist and sophisticated look, so I copied it (rest assured I did not immediately resort to copycatting... I actually did take an acummulation of about 5 shopping hours over 2 days to look for the perfect bag, but all data collected, the Ful Public Enemies bag was the best, so I was given no other option).

I remembered my friend's wife, Alex Millar, mentioned that an audition coach of her's said she wanted to see her enter an audition with a little "funk" so I decided to funk up my laptop bag purchase. The most artistic customer who left a review of the assorted Ful messenger bags online commented on how he liked the red version of the bag so I plugged in my credit card numbers into cyberspace and demanded a red Ful messenger bag in return.

Two days later, it arrived. One of it's first jobs was to carry my laptop and a glass jar of coins I had accumulated over the past six months of living in New York's Cash-friendly culture to the Performing Arts Library because I needed the coin (look at my awesome gansta reference to solid currency) for photocopies. Unfortunately, as I went to empty my bag tonight, I found the glass jar broken and the coins spilled throughout the largest compartment of the messenger bag. So began the debacle of extracting glass, coins, and whatever debris is found at the bottom of a New York hopeful's bag.

This is where the publican came out. I figured I should at lest organize the coin (I used it again!) into cups in case I wanted to stick it to the "coinstar" man and wrap my own coins in rolls and take it to the bank for deposit myself instead of surrendering my hard earned 3 percent to coinstar's mechanical empire. So, while seperating pennies from quarters and removing glass shards from the pads of my fingers, I organized the coins into 4 plastic cups, and then vacuumed out the bag with obsessive compulsive attention to detail, all the while envisioning the bloody screams and lacerations I was responsibly avoiding with my thoroughness.

My German-photographer-friend-turned-temporary-roomate, Martin Funke, commented "you look like a millionaire!" which did cause a moment of reflection. I do think that we are missing out on something not using solid money, especially coins, anymore. The purchase of my red Ful bag, could have been such a more amplified and fulfilling experience if I had laid down a hard earned doubloon or stack of silver dollars for it, instead of exchanging a set of 16 digits that change weekly due to misplacement or identity theft with an unseen cyber-merchant in who-knows-where. I am talking more than just a return to the Gold Stndard here people. I think our electronic transfer of funds it just another example of how technology is robbing us of yet another simple and satisfying physical act.

I digress.

Martin's exclamation of my apparent millionaire-ism (is that a word?) prompted a competition. After all, it is a saturday night, and what better way to finish of a publican cleaning, "guys-night-in," than with a solid gentleman's wager?! So we cleared off the table and placed our wagers vocally. He bet there was 15 dollars in the cup and I used my best, "The Price is Righ,t" strategery and undercut his bid with 12 dollars. Soon he dumped out the change and began piling the quarters into small stacks. At first he started stacking them into piles of 5 because he is accustomed to Euro coins which come in denominations of 20 cents, a practice I should have selfishly let him continue, because once he dumped the coins on the table I knew right away that there was more than 12 dollars in front of us, but maybe ignorant stacks of 5 quarters could sway the final count dishonestly in my favor... after all... I am a publican tonight!

The knee jerk reaction to lovingly correct a friend's mistake beat my publican side to the punch though and I soon scooped up the stacks and showed him they were 25 cent pieces, not 20 cent Euro coins. After the recount we realized we had more than 20 dollars in quarters in my possession. Good thing we had made an outcome-less gentleman's wager or I would of had to take out a mean bag of trash tonight! Also, if you are feeling a little bit jealous of the revelry Martin and I survived tonight, don't be... It will be taking it's toll on us soon enough.

Until next time, my friends.

Shabbat Shalom!

Shabbat Shalom,

I just got back from the most beautiful religious service in years at the New York Reformed Jewish Central Synagogue. Really, Ladies and Gentlemen, no wonder the Jewish tradition, way of life, and community has survived so long and so tightly knit for so long because the Sabbath in Judaism is truly one of the most beautiful things anyone can experience.

I was able to attend this service as part of my Institute of World Religion class. We were all invited guests to the Sabbath Service as Brother Belnap, our instructor and ex-stake president, is good friends with the head Rabbi. I remember in class Brother Belnap, clarifying that the Jews view the sabbath as a welcome day, where for the rest of the weekend, they get to experience the joy of heaven on earth through their observance of "shabbat".

This service was heaven on earth. First off, Jewish music, especially reformed Jewish music is BEAUTIFUL. We mormons are missing out on some serious inspiration. The three stories of sephardic/moorish beauty of the synagogue stunned the visual senses and the music did more. The "cantor" or leader of music played guitar, while a band consisting of a grand pianist, a percussionist, a guitarist, and 4 back-up singers led the congregation in some of the most enchanting hymns I've ever heard. The music was of Jewish heritage from Africa, Germany and some of it contemporary, but all of it sung in Hebrew and all of it seemed to coax your heart out of your chest, to sing with everyone else's.

I really thought, "No wonder Judaism endures... they have all this," and I looked around me and I saw smiling faces, people happy to be there. People honestly seeming to welcome the shabbat weekend as a few days of heaven on earth, like a baby awaits the sweetness of a reward he is about to enjoy, and I found myself getting excited with them. Amidst all this happiness, the younger rabbi got up in front of the congregation, welcomed everyone and then began another beautiful hymn to start the service.

A moment of silence was recognized, an almost completely silent 30 seconds except for a few excessively aggressive horns from outside, and then amidst yet another enchanting melody, the entire congregation turned toward the shut rear doors and sang as they symbolically welcomed the sabbath.

I almost want to stop writing because I feel I am so far from doing the beauty of the service justice by trying to explain it. I guess the best explanation can be that I plan on going again next week just to experience it again. The music alone would be worth it, however, I do not want to diminish the rest of the beauty of the service by making this an inquiry into Jewish music. I felt God's presence there. I felt God really listening to the Jewish people's prayers and remembering covenants he made with them 2000+ years ago and them living up to them.

If I were not a mormon... it would not be hard to coax me into Reformed Judaism.

Until Next Time, Shabbat Shalom!

First Entry

It's official.... In one feel swoop I have propelled myself into the 21st century, creating a blog and giving into the Twitter buzz all in one hour! I confess, having heard in the NYU Travel Writing Seminar last week that "Caffeine," Google's new indexing algorithm, scours Twitter accounts to add to your search engine optimization, heavily influenced my decision. With that said, the meat of my thoughts and ideas will most likely be posted here, where there is no 160 character counter measuring my tweet efficiency, forcing my language to atrophy into LOLs and OMGs. See you soon!

Welcome

Hello Everyone!

Welcome to my Blog! I will add postings as often as possible! Some may be deep thoughts generated during my walks through New York City, or my thinking time in the shower, two of the most juxtopposed, but productive mental times of my day, other entries may be short musings or ideas generated randomly throughout my days. Hopefully all of them will inspire thought, the pursuit of one's dreams, or a burst of simple laughter. Thank you for reading and please feel free to comment or post my thoughts elsewhere!

Regards,

Cardon Ellis