In the Beginning

I wanted to be an Art Director in the Movie World. I wanted to dig into the details of history for period pieces and style modern fashion; sleek and clean.

Instead, I walked onto the set of a television commercial for Cheer Wine, shooting in the dark and dirty alleys of a boarded up Underground Atlanta, where it was always night. It was the 80’s and Michael Jackson, with his moonwalk and silver glove, reigned supreme.

I was a Production Assistant to Diane Hiles; Wardrobe Stylist, Prop Master, Location Scout, woman who could do anything – and she had committed over lunch to teach me what she knew.

I had spent my first days in the production office of Jayan Films doing a series of firsts. I had called all 30 extras; dancers and roller-skaters and enthusiastic fans, to talk through wardrobe with them and give them call times and directions. I had been sent out to a nursery on Cheshire Bridge Road to pick out flowering plants and the large, ornate terracotta planters they would be potted in, as well as arrange for their pick up two days later, little knowing at the time that it would be me driving the cargo van.

And when I showed up at 6AM on my first shoot day at the policeman-guarded gated entrance to the perpetually dark Underground Atlanta, little did I know that I would not emerge into the daylight again, until 26 hours later. I was working for a $50 flat.

Within that time, I would go from supervising my 30 teenage extras, (rather poorly I might add, since I allowed them to roller-skate on the beautifully finished wooden floors in the historic train station that was our holding room) to being sent to clear off the Craft Service Table with Donna Thorpe Ingram because rats, the size of cats, had been seen feasting on the granola and M&Ms, to by the end of the night, Wardrobe Supervisor.

Sometime in the never-ending night, Diane was sent out into the daylight to find a new location for our next shoot two days later in Ansley Park. The location for the two little old ladies sitting on the porch drinking tea surrounded by potted summer flowers and talking about their bank, had suddenly fallen through.

Immediate promotion; I was suddenly responsible for wardrobe for the Principals. This was especially memorable, since the young blond dancer, dressed all in white, splashed her dress with the 100 year old black grime that caked the brick streets where we walked, and she danced. Thinking back, and knowing the Director – I am sure there was a wet down, of course. The Producer pulled me aside (a kindness), and scolded me for not coating her wardrobe in Scotch Guard, and sent me to help her change into her backup wardrobe.

With my new responsibilities, I was finally summoned to Set, where the lights blazed into the night and cables and dolly tracks turned the streets into an obstacle course. On a stage, "Michael" moon-walked, and dancers twirled. And I was given a new mission; get coffee for the Director. As I walked toward him, cup in hand, the Producer promptly intercepted me, “I will take that to him. Why don’t you go get coffee and bring it to the crew.”

So Donna and I found the cardboard trays that cases of cokes came in, loaded them with as many coffees as they would hold, and started making our way down the edge of the street, where Grips and Electricians sat waiting for the next set up at 4 AM in the morning. One of them looked me in the eye, and asked my name. I told him Georgia. He said in a deep voice, “Well Georgia, it’s nice to meet you – and you are going to do great in this business.” It was a very welcomed word of kindness and encouragement from a man named Jerry Pece. Little did either of us know that he would become a DGA Assistant Director, and me, a Director.

That first shoot would change my life. Instead of Art Directing for movies, I would dive deep into the world of television commercials, where bright lights and dirt–stained dancers come together for 30 perfect seconds.