No normal person would spend a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon on their knees ironing plastic supermarket bags onto bits of 16mm film.

Except me.

The animation class instructor taught us the said "technique" of imprinting dotty coloured ink onto film, which partly explains my strange behaviour. With no lightable, I had to kneel on the floor next to the window to work. I had also inhaled far too much volatile substances. The cocktail of nail polish remover + Xylene [think Sharpie / permanent marker vapour but as a can of liquid] was supposed to strip layers of tint from the film. Neither "techniques" worked half of the time, which only added to my dementedness to try more of the same to get the look I want.

I better become famous. [as an artist / mental experimental filmaker, whatever]

If one day you come across a micro-short film with a man inexplicably lying on the floor, some psychedelic colours and random flashes of �_��, ������, men on ��, �j�k�}�~�|, ���m���p��, etc. etc., you'll know who made that awful thing.