tangerine dream

Take a moment to consider this small, remarkable fact: to a degree that dwarfs that of all other species on Earth, humans reflect on the world them, and produce tangible manifestations of that reflection (“art”). And we do it in so many forms, using such varied tools. Whatever else you can say about us, our creativity as a species is miraculous and boundless.

How do we choose the subjects of our expressions? Do we choose them, or do they choose us? For me, it is at least as much the latter as the former. There is no need to strain or look far. The world is already so interesting, and my brain is a human one; art is the inevitable meeting of these two, and all I need to do consciously is surrender to its inevitability.

Tangerine Dream is one such inevitable happening. It takes place in San Diego, a second home for me, after being my real home for five years before the permanent move north to San Francisco. I visit often, usually staying with two good friends, Chad and Kevin, whose home and garden is itself a beautiful creation. They farm a small crop in their yard under the bright southern California sun — tomatoes, kale, wildflowers, and most important to this film, a whole variety of marijuana plants. During the last harvest, I was there for a visit, and learned the process of picking, trimming, drying, and jarring from start to finish. The three of us spent many lazy afternoons getting sticky and high from hash residue as we trimmed naked under the sun. This film is a window into those days, a celebration of human bodies, human ingenuity, and the raw materials that the Earth lends us to work with.

IMPORTANT NOTE: this film contains full, non-sexual nudity. Please do not view if you are under 18, or if you do not wish to see a nude human form (mine).