Cassie Ann Ross Goddard College Mfaia Portfolio

REEL
L
O
V
E
Abstract
This portfolio is a journey into my interdisciplinary art practices as a writer,
filmmaker, and creative collaborator. My work is guided by curiosity, psychology,
and dreams. Inspired by questions of what happens when we die and what drives
our emotions, I explore how to use love as a practice, how we can harmonize with
one another through creativity, and how to experiment with time, space and
imagination.
I associate imagination with liberation and believe it is like a muscle. I have to use
it every day. For me, imagination is a source of creation and enables us to alter
our perceptions of reality. When Im curious about my own perceptions and how
to change them by looking at lifes phenomena and synchronicity, I can see art in
just about everything. It is my calling to share my humor and intuition as I remind
others of their innate ability to be the creators of their own imaginative lives.
Key Words
Writing
Collaboration
Film
Creative
Midwifery
Dreams
love
Interdisciplinary
Performing
Physics
Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio
Artist Statement
If gravity wouldnt interfere with my ability to sustain a constant state of hanging
upside down, thats how I would prefer to spend my days and greet the people I
meet. I love playing with the concepts of time and space. I yearn to show myself,
and others, how silly our realities can look when we take a moment to flip things
and dangle our perspectives.
I permit the memory of my dreams and unconscious work to inspire, or cleanse
the start of each of my days. Then, the writing begins whether its in my mind,
audio-recorded, hand-written or typed. I record scenarios of how I may set myself
out into the world each day. I deeply rely on being introspective about my own
thoughts in order to comprehend what stories Im experiencing and working
through.
My intention is to spark imagination where passion and love can thrive outside of
the seriousness and scandals of our stories about life. When I set out to create
how my days will be effected by me, the storyteller, thoughts and visions fill my
head and must be expressed somehow in order for me to receive lifes blessings
and lessons.
In order to thrust my ideas and others into expressive motion, I must embody
and spontaneously bounce between the hats I wear in writing, teaching, acting,
filmmaking, editing, photography, and creative midwifery. Being generous with
my resources and personal practices helps me unlock the creators that exist
inside all of us and propel our imagined dreams into having them realized. This
process of working as an Interdisciplinary Artist allows me to be present and relax,
as I swing metaphorically upside down, into the wide-variety of projects I
undertake in the creative business of telling stories.
Figure 1 Through The Peephole, digital manipulated photograph, 2013
Introduction
I know how to make a film.
I claim that statement as a woman with vision, heart, and voice, whose been hosting
quite a set of imaginary testicles amongst a male dominated industry of grand storytellers. Ive
invested the last two decades in the Hollywood circuit seeking out great mentors, making
mistakes, making good decisions, honing my crafts, surviving material failures and successes,
developing daily art practices, gaining new disciplines, seeing projects through from the spark
of ideas into their distribution and collaborating on countless productions with extremely
varying budgets.
The truth is, I have been able to sustain my creative lifestyle because I am a love bug. As
the word love bug may suggest, I am annoyingly optimistic, a big floating smile coming at you
mid air, and an I-love-you-no-matter-what kind of pest. I do not expect love in return for the
generous acts of caring that I give to others freely. I buzz around with my fuzzy antennae
motivating creativity and camaraderie as I snuggle up to you while prying into your deepest
feelings (completely under your radar). I am human. I meet people who think they dont care
for me at first or who rub me the wrong way because our experience egos rear their heads, but
lookout because in a flash - my fingers will begin to twitch, forging my arms to rise from my
sides as they find their way around any body in close proximity. Hugging is part of my daily
love bug practice. So, come hell or high water, I will be giving and someone will be receiving my
love bug hug.
Being a female who has made the conscious decision not to bear children, but rather
put her maternal instincts into creative projects, Ive discovered that my most recent
collaborative role in the entertainment industry has been holding court in the creative back
seat and similar to a position that the professional field of midwifery calls a doula1. I would like
to define what I believe could be the description of what I would call a creative doula.
A creative doula is a human being who assists, mentors, and collaborates with
other humans - no matter their gender, race, or creative medium - before, during,
and after the birth of their creative projects by providing consultation,
appropriate psychological probing, sharing of resources, encouragement,
patience, generosity, physical assistance, emotional support and excellent follow
through.
When a creative spark and an idea itch from a storyteller is presented to me, I am there
as a creative doula to locate that spark and scratch that itch. I have found that by listening and
observing, not only to the idea but to the storyteller themselves, provides the information
necessary to exposing their inner wisdom into how they have been surviving lifes lessons
(physically, mentally, spiritually) and what personal practices and theories, if any, were
acquired along their journey.
Gathering this data aids me in assessing what creative exercises and artistic mediums
would best serve their idea at the conception stage. As we begin to delve deeper into the
storytelling process with intention of sharing their message, this information will provide us
with the tools of how to apply their wisdom and practices into the process of telling their story.
I have designed this portfolio to take you on a journey into the rigorous and explorative
adventure that I experienced when I set out to see how I could get back into my own artistic
Corfield, Justin, ed. "Doula." Encyclopaedia Britannica. Http://www.britannica.com/, 09 Mar. 2013.

Web. <http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/1939464/doula>.
drivers seat. Could I apply what I do for others by adjusting the cameras focus back onto me?
Could I be a creative doula for myself? What would I discover?
By approaching this process of discovery with sustained inquiry, an unexpected personal
transformation occurred which enabled me to heal past trauma through embodiment, become
present to my needs as a woman and an artist by putting theories into action, and alter
perceptions I had about death, time, and space by expanding my phenomenological knowledge.
Welcome to REEL LOVE: a look through the peephole into an MFAs discovery of how
love transforms as an art practice.
Table of Contents
Abstract 2
Key Words 2
Artist Statement 3
Introduction 5
Creative Doula Holds Up Her Mirror

Reflecting the Past
Seeing My Body 11
Looking at a Tragedy 12
Journal excerpt Another Day in Hollywood 13
Writing the Screenplay Blue Angel 22
Dream journal excerpt Slow Dancing 23
Jumping back to
Childhood Visions & Curiosities 24
Creative Doula Taps Her Magic Hammer

Into the Now
Dream journal excerpt Unraveling 28
Inspiring Influences 30
Experimental Videos 38
Vessel in the Void 41
Creative Doula Finds Her Home

In the Future
Rebirth & The Phoenix Series 46
Stripping the Daisy 48
Finding Love in an Hourglass World 52
Deep Eyes 61
Conclusion 64
Appendix 67
Annotated Bibliography 68
Research References 70
**Original files of screenplay and videos can be found online

under Support Materials**
Creative Doula
Holds Up Her Mirror
Reflecting the Past
10
Seeing My Body
My body became an important instrument for me at a very young age. I was born and
raised in a small town in western Pennsylvania, called Altoona, with roots to a 20-year-old
Irish/Scottish mother and a 21-year-old Italian/German father. I would later become the oldest
of their five children.
Attempting to slide into their world, feet first through my mothers womb, resulted in
my head being formed like a cone from all the forceps used to switch my body around in her
canal. Had we been a family born in ancient Egyptian or Peruvian days, this coned head would
have been a preference, but in 1974, this was a shock for a young couple to see from their firstborn. After the soft spot on my infant head finally settled from its cone shape into the ideal
Gerber baby round, I began to walk at age one - oddly.
My parents learned that I was knock-kneed (this is when the knees turn in to face each
other, locked, which gives the feet nowhere to go but awkwardly out and in alignment with the
shoulders). In my parents search for a cure that I would one day walk normally, their options
were to put me in metal braces that connect from the elbows to the knees or send me to dance
school. I started dance lessons just under the age of two and by three-years-old I began
performing in front of audiences and could do a curtsy with complete knee turnout. This is the
story I grew up with between endless photo albums, videos, and memories that I share with my
dear and caring earth family.
Learning the humility of having a disability and overcoming it through the creative
practices of dance and performance, I was able to experience what its like to feel different
states of being within my body.
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A somatic discipline used as a healing tool would be significant to my understanding of,

and ability to, embody my experiences in this life locating feelings and emotions within my
body and expressing them through music, movement, performance, acting, and dance.
Looking at a Tragedy
At the start of my MFA program, I was in a limbo state of being. I recognized that I had
not properly mourned a tragedy that had ripped through my life five years prior. Having lost
many loved ones to death throughout my life this tragedy had hit me differently.
The occurrence was still living and breathing within me, encompassing every molecule in
my being. My body, thoughts, and actions were affected by the loss of love that I had
encountered that fateful day. My daily movement practice had faded, as I seemed to be
floating outside of my own body watching myself go fast and furious through lifes motions.
I felt lost.
In my first semester, I was wrapping up a project that I had been co-producing and
editing video pieces for. A musical called, Beggars & Choosers, written by Jill Wright 2 in
response to the financial recession that America had been experiencing since 2008. We had
filmed a staged reading in Los Angeles, traveled to New York performing and recording live
musical numbers at Occupy Wall Street and Ed Asner joined our crew in support of us getting
the show up and running. Click on this link to see our promotional piece with Ed Asner or view
the archived original in Support Materials: Beggars & Choosers
2
Jill Wright is a writer and writing coach based in Los Angeles, CA. Her works and services can be found
on her website http://allthewrightwords.com/.
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The piece held a strong surge of social activism mixed with just enough magic and
comedy that had audiences singing and cheering out of their seats. Working on that project had
me questioning what human beings really need versus what we desire or think that we want.
What did I need?
I had been pretending to not be affected by my personal story masking in self-destructive
behaviors crying endlessly when I was alone, consuming alcohol to numb the pain, and trying to
put the whole tragedy behind me. I had to ground myself, dig my heels into metaphorical dirt,
and go deep to really think about what I needed. I needed shelter, clothing, food, and water.
(And let us be honest, it is the 21st century, Internet could make this list). Everything else could
fall into the category of wants or desires not actual need. What about my need for love? How
could I sustain love with someone who was not on the planet anymore? Would I ever find it
again or was that it?
I knew that if I was going to unleash the creative doula onto myself that I would have to
face this tragedy head on in order to reach the stories and ideas that had been hiding inside of
me, aching to be embodied, healed and shared. Finding courage would be the first step in that
process. As special thanks for my hard work on Beggars & Choosers, Jill offered me three
writing coach sessions to help me purge the difficult details I had experienced the day of the
tragedy.
Journal excerpt Another Day in Hollywood

I can feel the soft velvet ribbed pillow sticking to my face. The air is stuffy and warm. As my
body begins to stir, I notice a sock missing from my left foot. I stretch my legs to remove the
13
comfy maroon blanket and my eyes open. I see trees over Laurel Canyon swaying outside my
window.
I reach for my phone on the wooden table and it reads 10:38am. How strange to have a cell
phone instead of an alarm clock. When I was eight, I had a robot sounding horoscope alarm. It
would address me as my horoscope sign, alert me of the day and then give a little tidbit phrase
of what the day may bring. Scorpio, today is April 21, 2007 and a surprise is in store for you. I
miss that clock.
Remnant scents of coffee and eggs, from my roommate, linger through the house. My back feels
like it needs some straightening out. I slowly pull my body up, bend over to stretch and dangle
my arms to the hardwood floor. I do my morning movement calisthenics. Bend and stretch.
Shuffling into the bathroom, I look in the hallway mirror and my hair is fluffy. The skin on my
face feels smooth as I massage it to wake up further. My contacts are in need of some hydration
but the vitamin E pill I rubbed under my eyes really worked. I cannot remember which make-up
artist told me to apply vitamin E capsules the night before filming, but wow - my eyes look fresh
and young.
I swallow my womens daily vitamin without water and begin to inspect that I did not grind any
more of my front teeth down last night. Into the mirror, I convince myself again that it is my
choice to not wear the night guard from the dentist. I just know that I will choke on it while I
sleep and I really do not want to die that way. After gargling and gagging with mouthwash, I
floss and brush my teeth.
Time to run the bath water. As I knock off my right sock and panties, I step into the tub. I sit and
let the water get me warmed up splashing it up and around my shoulders. I work up to turning
the fancy showerhead on and it feels like I am about to receive a healing. I think I will set it to
massage and steam bath affect today. Today is special.
Head first, it tingles, and all emotions from the dream state seem to wash off my body. I put on
my exfoliating gloves and begin to sugar scrub every inch of my skin from feet to face. It smells
like ginger. Then I apply my lemon facial cleanser that slightly burns but really wakes me up.
Coconut conditioner sits in my hair as I soak up the lavender bubbles in the water. Oh, I feel like I
am in a spa. Its so relaxing and rejuvenating at the same time. The smells in here are divine. I
stare up at the ceiling until the water begins to cool and I begin to slightly wrinkle.
I walk out of the bath into plush, white towels that wrap my hair and body. I head down to the
kitchen and turn the coffee on for a two-cup dose. It makes a loud gargling sound. I look outside
and of course, its California sunny. The Koi pond is sparkling and the fish are swimming around.
I head back upstairs, rub lotion in every crevice of my body and use my special SPF with Titanium
for my face, neck and hands. I throw the clothes on I had picked out last night and double check
that everything is packed, lined up and ready.
14
Its 11:30am so I look online at the LA Metro bus schedule to see if its running late. I laugh as I
hear my friend Heathers voice in my head, Go catch the LA human Petri dish.
I dont know why people say that you cant live in Los Angeles without a car. Ive been here
seven years without a vehicle and yes, I have spent more money than I would like to admit on
taxis but the bus takes me where I need to go. This time tomorrow I will be on the beach in
Santa Monica shooting my first 35mm film. I feel great! Its been a while since Ive been in front
of the camera and I cannot wait to pull out my chops for film and not a digital shoot.
I call my friends, Sarah and Tommy, to say thanks again for letting me crash at their place in
Venice tonight and that I am headed out the door. They should expect me around 2:00pm.
As I load everything up on the porch and lock the door behind me, I realize this may be a bad
idea. I have a suitcase full of clothes, a gym bag filled with shoes, toiletries in a Trader Joe bag
and my big purse stuffed to the brim. I assess the bags in my mind and nothing can be left
behind. I wish this independent film had enough in their budget for a wardrobe unit. Im just
grateful that theres hair and make-up so, at least I will look good for camera. Ok, I can do this.
Here we go.
I feel a tad embarrassed walking down Laurel Canyon with all of these bags in tow. Its
uncomfortable on my body and awkward as the bags keep swaying and falling off my shoulders.
I reach the crazy intersection of Crescent Heights and Sunset Blvd. I wish I could tell these people
in their cars who are staring at me with pity in their eyes that its not easy to pull an overhead
piece of luggage down sidewalks, with three other bags that maybe Im just green and choose
to not have a car in LA. Maybe Im headed to a film shoot that has hair and make-up but no
wardrobe and its necessary for me to carry all of these clothes. My embarrassment disappears
when I get to the bus stop, finally and sit down. I grab for a cigarette to get a few puffs in before
the long ride to the beach.
The bus is three minutes late and the driver looks annoyed as I take more than 30 seconds to get
my things up the stairs. As I swipe my bus pass in his little machine, he smiles at me with big
brown eyes. I guess my good mood is contagious or maybe he can see, in my eyes, that I have
places to go today.
As I look into the Petri dish, there are plenty of seats to choose from. Thats odd. This bus line is
usually crowded like the buses you ride in Mexico. I love how they decorate the inside of their
buses down there. Its nice to see the Holy Mother Mary while you get tossed around viciously in
an old bus, going 60 miles an hour down cobble stone roads. Pregnant women who need to
induce labor should just go to Mexico and ride the bus around for a few hours, thatd do the
trick.
An older man, with the shiniest silver hair gets up from his seat and helps me with all my bags as
I sprawl out over two seats. He looks lonely. We exchange a silent thank you and youre
15
welcome. As I settle into my seat, I notice that all I can smell are pennies. What is that copper
smell? Must be the poles that hold the bus together creating that smell. Ew. My mother used to
say that pennies were dirty. There are probably so many germs on those poles. I must remember
to not touch the poles on my way out.
The bus is so loud, what does it run on? Diesel? It really sounds like a train or a plane. How is it
possible that I can hear the guy to my lefts iPod playing? His ears must be bleeding for me to
hear that over this damn bus? Where exactly is my iPod? Which bag did I put it in?
I cant wipe this smile off my face. I must be annoying to some of the other riders - all three of
them. I need to drown out the engine sounds and find my script and my tunes. Which bag is the
script in? Its nice not driving in LA. I can relax here with my music and read over my lines. I took
this same bus route, the day I auditioned for this film
I sit on the bus with one leg stretched out, one leg bent at 90 degrees and arms down at my
sides. As I begin to do my method acting Lee Strasberg chair body inventory, I start with my
right foot put focus on my toes but can feel tension in my neck.
Relax neck. I twirl my toes to shake the thoughts of how long this bus ride is taking. How alone I
feel inside my head. I was now at my right knee. Relax knee. And now up to my thighs. I could
feel the years of dance school on my thighs.
Relax tummy. Rubbing out my right shoulder. Relax mind. Relax elbow.
Shit! My stop! I almost forget that I have to change buses in Westwood as I pull on the bus cord.
I yell to brown eyes to hold the back door as I scurry along making sure I have all my bags in
check. Off the bus, I arrange the bags on my shoulders, get a cigarette out of my pocket, reach
into my shirt where my iPod hangs out in my bra and turn the volume up. Put it back in my bra,
light my smoke and adjust my headphones.
My favorite 80s song comes on. I used to choreograph really strange dances to this song.
Come closer and see, see into the trees, find the girl while you can I take my time crossing
the street to the next stop. Still smiling, I hop best as I can with my bags and suitcase. The hop
just added to my extremely great mood and my favorite song, I hear her voice calling my
nameI hear her voice and start to runinto the trees Guitar blasting in my ears I look up at
all the trees in Westwood. They remind me of growing up in Pennsylvania. I find a warm spot in
the sun and prop my ass - half on and half off the top of my suitcase. I sit smoking, humming
and tapping my feet to the dance moves I could envision in my head. Im lost in a forest all
alone
Hugging my taupe bag, rocking back and forth on my suitcase, I feel my phone vibrating in my
purse. I take my headphones off, drape them over my shoulder and begin the dreaded purse
search. I swear I could pull a hat stand out of here today, like Mary Poppins. How much does
one actress need? As I swipe through, I remove my gray sporty hat, a pair of leg warmers I use
16
to stretch before acting; I can feel my back-up makeup bag with mascara tube, concealer,
brushes and an eyelash curler. I plow through two packs of gum, a pack of cigarettes, a pen, my
journal, another pen, my acting notes, another copy of the script, my cell phone charger, a pair
of socks, my iPod charger, 6 to 8 tubes of lip gloss, a contact case, sunglasses, a pair of my
reading glasses I wanted to use as a prop and finally the cell phone.
I grab it before the final fourth ring and its my childhood friend Jennifer. CASSIE? Hey. Where
are you?
Jennifer and I met in 6th grade at Mt. Carmel Catholic School in Pennsylvania. We went through
junior high and high school together. She always had my back, made me laugh, wanted to live in
a big city like me and made school in our small town in PA tolerable. Thank god for her.
Im at the bus stop headed to Venice for my shoot tomorrow. As I begin to describe the bus
stop to her and breaking into song, she interrupts me. Honey Im watching CNN and a Navy
Blue Angel jet went down at an air show in South Carolina. They dont know which pilot it is yet
its not confirmed. Cassie? Hello? Honey, they dont know yet, Jennifer repeats into my cell
phone as everything begins to fade and I exit the bus
I step onto the curb and everything stops. Like when youre in an accident and lose sense of
time or sense of being. Jennifers words, jet went downjet went downjet went down start
to echo fast then slow then fast then slow in my head. I am completely silent.
Forcing myself to try and focus on where I am I feel the annoying vibration of my iPod against
my left breast where I stash it inside my bra. I hear muffled music running through my
headphones as they dangle around my neck sounding like theyve fallen into a tunnel.
The bus driving away gets louder and louder buzzing in my ears like jet engines! Stop! Stop!
I hold on to my torso because it feels like its about to rip open and intense energy is coming
from the bottom of my spine straight up my body almost ripping through the top of my head.
My blood seems to have stopped flowing to my legs and arms. My shoes feel like blocks turning
into rubber.
I cant see anything fog is covering my eyes. The tightness behind my eye sockets, where the
fog started, pumps down into my tummy, contracts and pushes out a guttural cry. The kind of
cry you hear from a child when their mother has to leave them at school or the kind of cry heard
from a woman in labor.
Jet went downjet went down. My head is heavy as if someone is pushing it towards my feet.
My knees get wobbly.
I hit the ground palms out and my forehead feels the coldness of the asphalt below it. I squeeze
my eyes shut. I can smell my hair. It smells like coconut milk.
17
I know. Right now. The pilot down - is him. I can feel it. Hes being ripped out of the universe
right here, in this moment.
A strange man puts my phone near my head, Miss, are you okay? He attempts to lift my body
from the concrete and everything tightens as if my body is amped up on steroids. Every muscle
bulges and every molecule is dense. Gravity is pulling me down so hard that my veins contract
and make me stiff. I keep thinking of that childhood game, light as a feather, stiff as a board,
light as a feather, stiff as a board.
It cant be him! He is a top stick pilot. Not just anybody gets to fly solo for the Blue Angels. Hes
trained two years for this position. I didnt wait two years for him to have this happen.
I need to call him! Call him right now! I push my head off the ground enough to reach for the
phone. Its taking too long to scroll for his name. I cant see. I wish I could figure out the speed
dial options on this phone. There he is. KJD. My Viking. Two rings. Pick up. Pick up. As his voice
bounces into my ear, everything stops again.
I love his voice. That subtle accent from Massachusetts where he was born. He has such a manly
voice. A heavenly mix of alto and tenor that sends sparks up my spine. The voice that makes me
feel like I want a dozen babies and I dont want kids. I instantly feel his breath on the back of my
neck in bed. I hear him whisper in my ear as we slow dance. And I feel his laugh vibrate on my
cheek, as I lay nuzzling my face on his stomach. That laugh.
Oh no! That laugh. I cant remember his laugh. What does it sound like? Think. Think. Think. I
can see his hands, his chest, his cock, his lips, and his eyes. I can feel every inch of muscle on him
too. Why cant I hear his laugh right now? Oh please, let me hear it. Is it husky? Is it fast or
slow? Was I ever annoyed by it?
I scroll through the Ks again. I have to keep calling until he picks up. When he answers I can get
him to laugh - then Ill remember. I have to record it somehow so I never forget again. I can see
him smiling and laughing but theres just no sound. Can someone turn the sound back on in my
memory? Please! Focus now. Just think of his voice. The voice that makes me feel like no one
else exists or that no one can harm me. The voice that needed to pick up the damn phone!
Please pick upPlease pick up! The phone is burning my ear. Steady now girl. The beep seems
long and drawn out.
Kev, its me. Please. Please tell me youre okay. Call me and tell me its not you. Please. Please
tell me whats going on over there. CNN isnt saying anything. Please. Please, call me back.
That must have sounded frantic and crazy. I should call back. I didnt even say that I hoped it
wasnt one of his friends or fellow pilots. He must be freaking out over there. I need to call my
sister Whitney. I need Navy information. Her husband Tim will know who to call. Hes a Navy
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Officer for gods sake, they introduced me to Kevin. He will know whats going on. I need a TV or
a computer. I cant get up.
What if it is him? What if he crashed? What if? Ask someone. Anyone. Does anyone here at the
bus stop know anything? What about that woman over there walking her dog? Did she have her
TV on today? Did she hear the news? Did she see anything? Does she know which pilot is down?
I am stapled to this ground near this wire-framed bench. I am stapled in one position. If I were a
yoga pose I would be crouched down broken girl with no hope.
Call me back. Call me back before I die here at this bus stop. No more waiting. Call me back
PLEASE. Tell me that everything is okay. Let me hear your voice. Say that you want us to be
together. Now. No more waiting. No more waiting until you get done with your Blue Angel tour.
Laugh for me. I cant hear your laugh.
What is this awful pain in my ribs? How many more buses will go by? How can I possibly shoot
this film tomorrow? I cant get this body off the ground.
Tell me to stand up and touch my chin. Gently nudge my chin up, so that my face meets your
lapis lazuli eyes. Stare down at me and tell me with no words that everything is fine. Remember
my pigtails, the string bikini, smells of salt and coconut.
Remember fixing your master bathroom up for me. The Jonathan Livingston Seagull book. The
Reef, the Pensacola driving CD we share. Jerry Garcia. Ask me to dance. Right now. Hold your
body against me and make my arms tingle. Maybe I can jump into your arms. Maybe I will. My
legs can wrap around your waist. We did that in the ocean once, remember? Kiss me. Let me
taste the Juicy Fruit gum youre chewing as you nibble on my lower lip.
Did he love me? Did you? Of course you did. Im so scared. Do they have the planes little black
box? What does it say? Did you die instantly or did you decide when to go? Did you call for me?
Did it hurt? Were you scared? How did it happen? Did you lose control? I am waiting for you.
How can this be? Im angry. Did you know you were going to die? Can you help me get off this
ground? You promised that I would get to see you in your uniform. You promised I would get to
rip it off of you. Do you remember telling me that? We were picking songs to play in the jukebox
when you looked into my eyes and told me that. Does anyone else know how much you loved
me? Did you tell anyone else? Can we slow dance right now? Im sorry that I didnt push you
harder. Push us harder to be together. I wanted to see you all the time. I wouldve come to all of
your shows if I knew this was going to happen. I believed that our distance was just part of our
love. I really believed that we were going to meet back up when your tour was through. I trusted
you. I trusted what you were saying about us building something. We only had eight more
months to have that serious conversation again. Can we have it now? Can I talk to you now
about that? Where are you now? Whats real? Im so confused.
19
I fight to stand up because I want to fall down again and somehow connect to the cement.
Connect to the cracks in it. I can smell the dirt in the cracks where weeds sometimes grow out.
Its safe down here in this moment. As I pull myself up onto the bench that sits underneath a
Plexiglas case with the bus schedules I scream out loud. So fucking loud. I dont care whos
around. I dont care about the two young students next to me. Go ahead. Move away. I
scramble for my cigarettes and realize that I cant breathe.
I scream again and this time I get out the word, why. My eyes are pulsating and the tears
stream out like a river after a rainstorm. My stomach hurts. This is too much like being in a
movie and how clich that all I can muster to scream is why. How many times do we humans
ask the question why and never really get an answer. My whole life just changed right here in
this moment. I cannot leave this bus stop or bench. If Im found dead here will anyone know
why?...
...I received confirmation of Kevins death four hours prior to my film shoot that next morning. I
could not see out of my contact lenses from crying, being up all night sending him emails, and
receiving countless phone calls. My professional integrity shined through, as I could not let an
entire crew hanging with their lead actress a mess, so I made the director aware of my situation
and would excuse myself between takes to cry and have make-up reapplied. My brother-in-law,
Navy Officer Lieutenant Commander Timothy Henry, would attend the funeral on my behalf so
that I could wrap the film, which would take another week or so of shooting...
Locating the story of that day within my body, using all of my senses, would be the start
of a feature length screenplay that I would complete during my MFA program to honor this
man with whom I was deeply involved and shared hopes of a future with.
20
Figure 2 Collage of Me and United States Navy Officer Lieutenant Commander

Kevin Johannes Davis, Opposing Solo Blue Angel #6 (1975-2007)
21
Writing the Screenplay Blue Angel

Having worked from 2000 to 2005 as a studio executive under the Weinstein Brothers 3
at Miramax and Dimension Films into what is now called The Weinstein Company, I have read
my share of screenplays. I took an entire semester to refresh myself on story structure,
outlines, genre, characters and other facets of writing a script. I reread Aristotles Poetics, David
Mamets True and False, Blake Snyders Save the Cat, Viki Kings How to Write a Movie in 21
Days, and took online story/writing courses Stealing Fire from the Gods by James Bonnet.
Writing the screenplay prompted me to muster up more courage to look at all of the
online videos of Kevins crash, research all the Navy paperwork explaining what happened and
finally look through the photographs, books, and other memorabilia that his mother found the
strength to go through and send to me. The process permitted me to feel the moments we
shared as if they were captured now on paper.
When I looked at the finished script, I realized that I had written it completely from
Kevins perspective. It reminded me of a cross between the films Top Gun and Up, Close and
Personal.
A young boy, growing up in Massachusetts, goes to an air show with his father and knows in
that moment what he wants to do when he grows up - become a Navy Blue Angel pilot. We see
him take all the right steps through Aeronautical school, Officer training with the Navy in
Pensacola, flying top stick in his squadrons and upon his acceptance into the infamous Blue
Angel team, he falls in love. Caught between not believing that he deserves both his dream job
and the woman of his dreams, he puts his energy into his job asking the girl to wait for him.
They struggle through their distance from one another and then he gets killed in a tragic air
accident and we leave the story with her holding onto the love they shared knowing that he
died doing what he loved.
3
Harvey and Bob Weinstein have produced and distributed countless Academy Award winning films.
The Weinstein Company and their works can be found on their website http://weinsteinco.com/aboutus/ and at their respective pages on the Internet Movie Database http://www.imdb.com/.
22
An archived PDF version of screenplay titled Blue Angel can be found under Support Materials
Dream journal excerpt Slow Dancing

For the final scene in the screenplay, my character is seen slow dancing by herself with
her arms held out appearing to be dancing with someone who is taller than her but not there.
The visual idea came from a dream that I had.
...Im sitting on a porch. I am crying. Kevin appears but I cannot see him. I can feel him, smell
him. I whisper out loud for him to show himself. I can feel his energy get closer as my stomach
begins to do cartwheels. I begin to see a faint image of the outline of his body. The energy in my
body vibrates and I can hear my heart beating in my head. I say I miss you. And then he says,
Its wonderful Cassie, you go into everything. Like a million pieces, you are everywhere. We
slow dance and I can feel a sense of peace and happiness. I wonder how long hell dance with
me as his energy begins to disappear...
The problem I confronted next was that the process of writing the screenplay from his
perspective didnt take away my feelings of love lost. Honoring one visual dream that I had at
the end of the story didnt take away the sadness I felt for our future that had disappeared. It
didnt take away the regret I felt for having integrity rather than nursing my own heartache and
attending the funeral as my time to mourn this beautiful being. I didnt feel transformed or
better.
Why did I take the safe route in the script? Had I become so accustomed to Hollywood,
knowing what sells and gets distributed that I couldnt start with my female perspective?
Where was my voice? What was the story I needed to tell?
23
Jumping Back to Childhood Visions & Curiosities

In 2nd grade, I had what I believe was either my first spiritual experience or existential
crisis. A thought form appeared, from my mind, like an imaginary screen that came protruding
from my forehead just inches above my eyebrows projecting a visual that intrigues me to this
day.
My young eyes could see what looked like outer space only without stars or planets. It
was total darkness and I felt like I was shrinking as I squinted my eyes to see further into it. I
could not make out where the black space started or ended but I could sense that it was
moving. No matter what direction I cocked my head, the black space seemed to keep growing
and I could not stop or pause its movement with my mind. It looped continuously making
spirals in and out of itself, where increasingly more black space would appear. Was I dying?
What was I seeing and why? Then the vision disappeared.
Back then I did not know about the concept of infinity or what a black hole was. My
ideas about time and space and death were limited to what I was learning in school and from
my parents. The only thing I was certain about was that I had just seen and felt something
special. For me, it was my idea of what forever might look like or where the universe started. I
wondered if maybe thats what we see when we die.
It was in that moment that I became a person who asks questions. Blown away and
excited I proceeded to seek guidance. I was in Mount Carmel Catholic School at the time so I
went to a nun, Sister Bridget, and our conversation went something like this:
Young Cassie: What was it like before God? When everything was black?
Sister Bridget: There was nothing before God.
24
Young Cassie: But you said that God created the world and humans. How did
God get into the black space that was there?
Sister Bridget: Stop talking back child. There was nothing before God.
I could not logically wrap my brain around her answer. I had just experienced that there
was a whole lot of something happening in a space full of nothing. My family made way for me
(their little cone head) as a thinker and accepted the fact that I would question them about
everything they did as they went through their own experiences. They also understood that my
search into finding answers was unstoppable. I had made a promise to myself to be skeptical,
and seek out different stories and points of view in my search for truth. Not permit myself to
attach to any belief or system, to such an extreme, that it could possibly crush another humans
ideas and theories about life.
I began endlessly interviewing people around me, and still do, asking them for their
thoughts and beliefs about what happens when we die and if they could picture the endless
spiraling loops of black space before God. Not everyone along my journey has been completely
dogmatic in their approach to answering my questions. Life, being filled with so many roads
traveled, led me to people who are more than willing to share their innermost thoughts with
what they, intuitively, have pondered to be our reality here on earth.
Like a foreigners quest to find their place in time and space, I learned how to be a great
listener and become a master observer of the human condition. I began to create stories of
home that could exist mentally, spiritually, and physically within myself. My questions began
to snowball into a large avalanche of curiosities. I wanted to know how humans got onto the
planet, why we were here, and where we return to when we die.
25
It would not be until I entered down the rabbit holes of researching science, physics, the
arts, psychology, esoteric studies, and eastern meets western theologies that I could try to
comprehend my childhood vision looking for similar thoughts. As a result, I started writing and
keeping journals as a form of analyzing my questions, visions, dreams, thoughts, and possible
answers.
If I ever wonder why I went into the film industry or am a visual artist, I just need to
remind myself of that childhood vision because it makes me giggle how obvious my path was
screaming for attention to tell stories with moving images.
26
Creative Doula Taps

Her Magic Hammer
Into the Now
27
Dream journal excerpt Unraveling

...I was on a plane and a faceless woman next to me claimed that she needed to get off the
plane immediately. I reassured her that we would land shortly. What would she do - jump out?
When we landed moments later, she handed me a gold colored stick. When I held it, it became
malleable and turned into a type of belt material. She showed me how to work it. It was a flying
mechanism. As I tried to straddle the belt, it took off into the air and I could feel my stomach
muscles tingle when my feet left the ground. I put one end in my right hand and then rounded
the belt under my behind while grabbing the other end with my left hand. I held tight and could
jump while keeping balance as if I was on a swing. The jumps got higher and higher and
suddenly I was in flight. I landed into what looked like a scene from Alejandro Jodorowskys film,
The Holy Mountain4. It was a Catholic church filled with marble. As I floated on my belt from
point to point, I began to feel like my hands were becoming part of the belt. The air got dense
and everything seemed like it was meshing into my skin. I could breathe but was losing breath
into the thickness of the atmosphere. I could see the faceless woman flying around me and I
could see what looked like a mass congregating down a long corridor of marble pillars.
As I began to make my way over to her, the tip of my head began to unravel. I stopped flying
and began to hold onto my head with my hands. I felt nervous and curious at the same time.
The faceless woman appeared and said, Dont be scared, this is how we enter other
dimensions. You need to let go. With that, I picked up the belt and was able to feel my head
begin to completely unravel into darkness. My head looked like the strip of a spiral. I could see it
as if I was watching it. As my hands clenched the belt and the rest of my body began to
disappear, I laughed aloud, it echoed through the marble church, and then I woke up...
Figure 3 Sketch from journal of the golden belt image from spiral dream, digital photograph, 2012
4
The Holy Mountain. Dir. Alejandro Jodorowsky. Tartan Video, 2007. DVD.
28
I wanted to try to make my dream come to life visually. I took one of my old acting
headshots and began to cut it into a circle. I used dental floss for a string to begin to pull the
headshot apart into a spiral. Reading online over several ways to make paper spirals, I found a
suggestion that if you wanted your spiral to spin, you could hang it up and put a lit candle
underneath its center. As the heat from the candle flame rises, the whole thing moves. As I was
documenting the movement with video, it was interesting to watch parts of my face distort and
disappear into strips as it whirled around just like my dream.
Figure 4 Spiral experiment with headshot, digital photographs, 2012
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I manipulated the video clips with special effects and edited the footage in Final Cut Pro
7. I decided to combine both the spiral pieces with footage I had of me dancing in my kitchen
window where lights from outside reflected and appeared like energy balls throughout my
body. Then I merged footage that I had taken from a train ride in California, of highway lines to
create a linear effect that I wanted to interlace and overlay as a means to convey a sense of
time to the piece.
Sound mixing audio clips of me reading excerpts from various poems and numerous
journal entries would be the underlying sound track.
The final product of my exploration is my visual version when I took a closer look at
what it meant for me to begin to unravel. Click on this link to see the video or view the
archived original in Support Materials: Unraveling
Inspiring Influences
On my continued quest to look deeper into myself, I felt a need to get reacquainted with
me as a woman. I instantly thought about artist Cindy Sherman 5 and her brave photographs
that raise important questions about women and society.
She started as a model in her own photographs, so I came up with three staged photos
throughout my journey that I did, in her honor, as a means to get a little closer to looking at my
own feminine needs throughout my process. I had an even deeper appreciation for Sherman
after my few attempts at this kind of work.
5
To find out more about artist Cindy Sherman and her work, visit her website
http://www.cindysherman.com/biography.shtml.
30
Figure 5 Sex, Shiva & the Self-Observer, digital still manipulated, 2012
In this photograph, I wanted to empower my higher self that guides me through life. I
am a multitasking woman with many thoughts. Determined, full of color and energy. Connected
and grounded.
31
Figure 6 Modern Day Cave Girl, digital manipulated photograph, 2013
Anytime I feel like I am in a power play with another human being, I remind myself that
like me - they piss, shit and bleed. I wanted this to look disturbing but manipulated the pixels to
almost have an oil paint effect. If this photograph had sound, I would have it grunt.
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Figure 7 Finding Mom & Muse in the Bardo, digital manipulated photograph, 2013
I wanted to see what my eye was attracted to in this shot my body or my shadow? The
female body is a beautiful form and when I am floating, I feel like I am back in my mothers
womb. I am relaxed, connected and calm. The shadows of our past will be with us no matter
where we go. I wanted to embrace some of my past shadows and relax into them. Invite them
as part of my story but not the form thats leading the show.
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Artist Bill Violas An Ocean Without a Shore 6 is a sound and visual installation that for
me shows the veil of how we perceive ourselves between life and death. Using a wall of water,
his models begin on one side appearing to have a gray, muted and rather digitized look to their
skin and clothing. As they pass through the wall of water, their body becomes clear, in color and
fully lit.
I started to think about what dimensions I was sitting in currently. How could I relate
where I was between life and death? Was there a veil that I could see?
I filmed myself in three different positions naked and used a 3-D effect to morph my
scenes into floating in the same space. If I were passing from life into another dimension such
as death, this is what I saw.
Figure 8 Dimensions, digital manipulated still from footage, 2013
To find out more about artist Bill Viola and his work, visit his website http://www.pafa.org/billviola/.
34
Art historian and critic, Mark Levy Ph. D., explored the similarities behind certain artist
motivations and activities that resembled those of shamans in his book, Technicians of Ecstasy7.
I was particularly attracted to his thoughts on dreaming.
Levy points out that using dreams can be a source for creative endeavors, healing,
knowledge, and inspiration (Levy 129). As I continue to grow and change as an artist, I find that
the exciting part of my writing practice is recording my dreams, trying to analyze their meanings
and then putting them into visual stories. I enjoy the platform that dreams provide. They
stimulate my imagination and I have been training myself for years to remember dreams in
order that I record them as soon as I wake.
According to Levy, using the methods I just described as an artist and viewing my
dreams as meaningful are shamanistic in nature and other artists who do the same tend to be
outsiders in relation to the dominant ideological system (Levy 132). This makes sense to me in
regards to my thoughts on not wanting to adhere to one religion especially when it comes to
the subject of death.
Levy has an entire section on one of my favorite artists, Alex Grey. He explains that Grey
went through a period of darkness and meditating on the meaning of death for quite some time
before he was able to see light in the form of interconnecting light lines (Levy 104).
One of the reasons I love Greys work is the light and energy that he intends to emit
from his paintings. In Greys book, The Mission of Art8 under a section titled Art and Time, Grey
talks about death and what we feel about death can be a catalyst for creation (Grey 20). If I
Levy, Mark. Technicians of Ecstasy: Shamanism and the Modern Artist. Norfolk, CT: Bramble, 1993.
Print.
8
Grey, Alex. The Mission of Art. Boston: Shambhala, 1998. Print.
35
hadnt faced death in the way that I have in this journey, Im not sure that I wouldve been as
creative or as motivated to create than I was. I did notice a change in my energy.
Thinking about energy and what happens to our energy when we die, I became inspired
to take a photograph of myself and put an effect on it that would make it appear to have
thermal moving energy. I also took a photograph of Kevin, ripped it up and put the effect of a
negative on it.
Figure 9 Surviving Thermal Coils, digital manipulated photograph, 2013
36
Figure 10 Ego: What is the Self?, digital manipulated still from footage, 2013
I wanted to look for my ego amongst the many facets of myself that I was aware of. I
took footage of myself for an entire day doing all of the chores in the house, meditating, talking
on the phone, and having coffee. What did I witness when I was alone? I talked to myself out
loud. I could hear my internal thoughts repeating words, phrases, and ideas as if they were
stuck on a loop. I floated from one activity to the next while singing and dancing.
I wanted to capture the surge of energy as thoughts begin to flow so I sped up the video
and added the neon coloring. When I couldnt keep up with the internal chatter or couldnt
seem to quiet anything I was thinking, I found myself frustrated and going on a rant about
what is original thought directly at camera. I think I found my ego that day.
37
Experimental Videos
Figure 11 No Frets: Study of Everyday Phenomena, digital still from video, 2012
I found that the act of walking and playing with my feet in water brings me healing, joy
and no worries (or no frets). I needed to depict the mundane in my life and how happy I can
feel in it. This following video is an experiment I did while observing my everyday phenomena.
Click on this link to see the video or view the archived original in Support Materials: No Frets:
Study of Everyday Phenomena
38
Figure 12 Moon Madness & The Tigress Within, digital still from video, 2012
Figure 13 Moon Madness & The Tigress Within, digital still from video, 2012
I wanted to capture energy with slow, deliberate movements. I played with several effects
in order to get a thermal, energetic look including using a black light while filming. I also played
with 3-D effects working with the xyz planes, so that at some points in the video, my body
would appear to be floating making my face morph into what could look like the face of the
moon. Click on this link to see the video or view the archived original in Support Materials:
Moon Madness & The Tigress Within
39
Figure 14 At Last, digital still photograph from video, 2013
I wanted to experiment with dimensions again. Proposing that my two sisters (who are
also dancers and live across the country) send me footage of them dancing. I wanted to see if I
could get all of us in the same room using some editing tricks to create a sense of closeness
without us being in the same room.
My sister Emily was in school training to be an RN, so she could not find any time to
record herself. My sister Whitney sent me a video, which her daughter recorded, and I took
footage of my neighbors dancing tango one evening.
I would need a song for this project. One of my neighbors played the ukulele so I
convinced him to sing and play any song that he knew. I would manipulate the dancing footage
speed to match his song. He had just taught himself At Last by Etta James. It was in perfect
harmony to the research I had been doing about love.
40
I played with extreme lighting on this project and used more than a dozen effects to get
the perspective that these people were with me but maybe just in other dimensions of the
room or the world. Click on this link to see the video or view the archived original in Support
Materials: At Last
Vessel in the Void

I continued researching about transformation of self and found Andrew Holeceks 9
book, The Power and the Pain: Transforming Spiritual Hardship into Joy. I was extremely
interested in his very last chapter where he talks about divine play or the idea that in order to
reunite with our mother (in death), the ego or every thing the ego has created must die. He
also said something that was so synchronistic to my personal situation that it almost instantly
allowed me to hear Kevins last words or what was said on the black box before the crash.
In listening to voice recorders recovered from crash sites, researchers found that the
pilots tried to pull the plane up right until the last moment they kept fighting. But just before
the crash, the last thing many cried out was, Mom! (Holecek 239)
We know that Kevin made the decision not to eject but to try and land the jet as it was
headed into a community of homes. We also know that he was alive when the paramedics
arrived. I believe that he went down fighting and that he would cry out for his Mother, as they
were very close. I love him for that. So, if his last words were Mom that includes me.
Holecek, Andrew. The Power and the Pain: Transforming Spiritual Hardship into Joy. Ithaca, NY: Snow
Lion Publications, 2009. Print.
41
I started to feel myself becoming free of the attachment I had to Kevins form here on
earth. I began to feel the importance of his essence and the love we shared on this plane of
consciousness and into his unknown. Was it possible that I did not have to stay in the shock of
playing with our love in the middle anymore?
I no longer had to identify him with a tragedy but rather his liberation as he journeyed
home. And as Holecek so eloquently states, By dying and returning to the primordial mother,
we not only dissolve into her, but we become her (Holecek 239). Maybe thats what Kevins
message was about in my dream when he said that we go into everything. Dissolving back into
the feminine womb of death and then becoming part of everything. Sounds like natures
process. The spirals I see look like tunnels back into the womb.
The fear of his death slowly began to turn into a celebration of sorts. I started to see the
truth in the event. All of the moments I had been recording that were happening here - he was
fully part of them. I could see my childhood vision and the spirals coming into focus.
Figure 15 Vessel in the Void, digital still from video, 2013

42
All the video work with energy and dimensions must be included somehow into a video
homage. I could see him flying in his jet as all of my videos flashed by him. I could see an entire
walkway into a room being filled with video projection. The floor, ceiling and all walls would
need filled with these spiral images into black space. First I would need to see what I could do
from a 2-D perspective with the tools I already had.
I started to play in Final Cut Pro with morphing footage I already had into these brilliant
colors whipping them in loops across the screen. I found footage from a Blue Angel flying and
began to put it coming out of the spiral and then left it rather stationary in one spot of the
screen. I did the same with the other videos only had them coming from all different angles and
spaces in the spirals. Then I began to create 3-D effects on all of the clips.
I played around with trying to use different geometrical sequences, shapes,
symmetrical, asymmetrical for each piece. I would have the moments pass by and then end
with his jet going into the spiral last. Holeceks words about pilots could end the project.
I took the liberty of reaching out to Brendan Gregoriy of Chymera10, an Irish techno,
electro and electronica producer who now resides in Berlin. I had purchased a mix of a song he
produced titled Umbrella and wanted to see if I could use the song for my video piece. The
song haunted me for the few years I was hiding behind my mourning process. He loved the
video and approved my manipulated use of his song. If I were to ever use the video for
commercial purposes, I will have to attain the rights from his label but for now our gentlemans
agreement binds the song for my educational purposes.
10
To purchase the song Umbrella and learn about the artist, please visit Chymera website
http://www.chymera.org or at the artists record label http://www.ovumrecordings.com/.
43
This would be my creative attempt at remembering the sense memories and the reason
I believe in this feeling we human beings call love. This feeling is what kept me surviving and
able to breathe.
Being aware that my moments were shared by including him somehow into my
dimension made a world of difference to me. My homage to Blue Angel Kevin J. Davis - The man
who gave me the gift of losing love, so that I could be better prepared to receive it.
After sharing the video to a group of peers, strangers, and contacts, I felt that another
part of my mission to honor Kevin was complete. Now, my mission would be to experience love
again. I was more in tune with my body, my writing was flowing again, and I felt like he had
become a gorgeous muse that would keep me open and growing into the next phase of my life.
Love as a concept was morphing for me in the sense that I was beginning to see that
love was everywhere, in everything when we are aware and looking to include it. Click on this
link to see the video or view the archived original in Support Materials: Vessel in the Void
44
Creative Doula
Finds Her Home
In the Future
45
Rebirth & The Phoenix Series

I thought about the mythological Phoenix burning itself up to be reborn again from its
ashes. What a creative creature to change itself through death. I felt like I had just experienced
a change around a story that I was holding onto that no longer served my growth. Finding new
ways to get honest with that story, express it, mourn it, and face it was my way to rebirth. I got
really inspired by this idea and how I could incorporate it into something creative. I went out to
a nearby hotel that I knew had a fireplace that burned all night long. I sat and filmed the fire for
as long as my cameras battery would last. I manipulated the footage until I began to see
worlds, symbols, and faces appearing.
Figure 16 "Rebirth Series", digital manipulated stills from video footage, 2013
46
Figure 17 "The Phoenix Series", digital manipulated stills from video footage, 2013
47
Stripping the Daisy

I took part in a semester long study group and our focus was none other than the
concepts of love and desire. Challenged to create a one-minute video piece that would reflect
my thoughts on love and desire, I walked to a local bar one evening for a beer and of course,
my notebook to see if I could get inspired.
I kept seeing myself pulling off the petals of a daisy saying, He loves meHe loves me
not. I thought about how ridiculous that activity is or how untrue its results can be. I
remember bartering with myself when I was younger that if it landed on He loves me not that
I could just grab another daisy to see if that one would give me the result I was seeking the oh
so fulfilling words, He loves me.
And then, I saw a diamond engagement ring in my mind that was plucking the daisy.
Would I ever wear an engagement ring? Is it possible to manifest new love? Is it possible to
manifest a soul mate? Was I ready? I could hear a negative voice in my head that I had fallen
prey to the love myths presented under Americas capitalistic desire imprint. It went something
like this:
...Soul mate. Really? Do you really think there is one person out there just made to compliment
you? The yin to your yang? And youll find them and live happily ever after? Love is for fairy tales
and Hollywood. Manifesting is for new age groups who think theyre in control of their creative
powers. Stop kidding yourself and get a cat. Oh, thats right youre allergic to cats, well get a
fish then...
As I walked home, I saw the shadow of street signs on a building that appeared to me as
a man with a hat looking at a tree (see Figure 18). I liked the contrasting lines and light behind
the animated figure. There were slanted shadows that gave me the idea for the background I
48
wanted to see the daisy against. I manipulated a close up into black and white (see Figure 19),
which I thought would add some juxtaposition against the daisys yellow center.
Figure 18 Lines and Animated Figures, original digital photograph, 2013
Figure 19 Lines and Animated Figures, digital b & w photograph, 2013
49
I was inspired at my contradicting thoughts and knew that my visual would need to
reflect that contrast via light and sound against the daisy somehow. I would need to wrangle a
married girlfriend into using her hand that would hold the daisy and pluck the petals so I could
get the diamond into the shot. I tried to mimic the night scene of the animated figure by
shooting the petal plucking in front of a vertical wooden fence (See Figure 20).
Figure 20 Stripping the Daisy, original digital photograph, 2013
I manipulated the footage by splicing bits of light and rotating them to create the
diagonal lines that I had seen in the shadows of the night scene (See Figure 21).
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Figure 21 Stripping the Daisy manipulated digital still from video (end result), 2013
I sent the video to a music composer that I love working with, explaining that I needed
music that was childish but eerie to give the piece a dream element. I needed the music to help
express the juggling act of thoughts I had running in my mind about love and desire. Click on
this link to see the video or view the archived original in Support Materials: Stripping the
Daisy
51
Finding Love in an Hourglass World

The words of author, Bell Hooks 11 kept ringing in my ears about love being a choice. My
interpretation after reading her book, All About Love is that we go through many relationships
using the wrong language to describe what is occurring between two people We fell or are
falling in love (Hooks 172). This alleviates us from ever having to truly take responsibility in
love. Love is a daily choice.
When we find someone that we are compatible with who shares in the same beliefs
about life and who we can trust, its still a choice to love them. It doesnt just happen.
Chemistry just happens and then theres a choice to follow that through. I began to choose
love. Every day. I had been a witness in my own life to seeing what universal love might look
like as we change from this dimension of life into death.
My sister Whitney gave me a heartfelt and extremely prophetic speech once. She told
me that my love was still out there and his name was Rusty. He would be a cowboy who could
lift me over his shoulder. He would show me the way. She teasingly sent me cards for birthdays
and holidays, since 2008, that would say, Give Rusty my love or Tell Rusty I say hello. It
became a joke amongst my closest friends and Rusty became a household name.
It wasnt until September 17th 2013, that Rusty would enter into my space. A
comedienne, writer, actress, photographer and Claymation extraordinaire friend of mine,
Heather Le Roy, was sitting with her childhood friend when she asked him what he was going to
call the art studio he had just created. His reply was, The Rusty Wrench. It has to have the
word rusty in it.
11
Hooks, Bell. All about Love: New Visions. New York: Harper Perennial, 2001. Print.
52
She immediately jumped up, ran over to him with her cell phone, pulled my profile up
on Facebook and persisted in showing him photos of me. She explained the entire Rusty
connection to him and the fact that we were both single after each of us had been through the
ringer in the last decade or so she instructed him to reach out to me.
In the interim, she was taking photographs of him and sending them to me to see what
my reaction was. I thought he was very handsome and his artwork struck a chord in my heart.
His name was actually Josh. We began a long distance relationship consisting of emails, calls,
Skype sessions and gifts via the postal services.
About five months into our love dance, Josh had a very visual dream about the two of us
being young children together in a strange land full of geometric shapes and translucent
topography. He realized in the dream that the further he walked with me on the path we were
following, that he was taking me home. He didnt want to leave me but as he walked away he
got the sense that he would see me soon. He just had more work to do. We both had a good cry
over his vision and a big creative meeting after he shared details of the dream with me via a
love letter. Where did this guy come from?
The following are a few excerpts from his very lengthy and detailed letter of a world that
he pictured the two of us coming from or heading back to:
From: Joshua Green
To: Cassie Ann Ross
Subject: It's all for you baby. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
They awoke in a trembling embrace on the lower sandy plane of Ley'uvioo. A place that had
only been conceived in their minds, at least they had logically assumed. Time seemed to process
in a strange way in years, or was it seconds? There was an initial struggle to regain
consciousness, as the desert soared for what appeared to be miles in their narrowing vision, and
their peripheral view began to tighten. This was only a matter of their earthly sight, that of their
humanly body. This was the same humanly body that had somehow released them into this
53
dimension, a dimension that they had conceptualized individually. Neither of them was quite
sure how they had arrived but they both knew they were in the present
Curiously, They leaned against the transparent cubes and peered into the mirrored blocks that
hovered within the parent block. Within the reflection of the blocks they could see themselves
and the lost desert floor behind them. Hastily they turned to glance at the path they had chosen
to this point and found themselves suddenly weightless, floating merely a few feet above an
ocean floor. Shaken by the abrupt change in landscape they quickly held their breath. Looking at
each other in disbelief, they continued the hold their breath for what seemed like days when it
occurred to them it wasn't water they were surrounded by...
They stared into the distance with awe. The beach was circular and held a definitive edge. It
had the essence of a floating island encapsulated entirely in an inverted conical glass
surrounded with three large columns each equal distance from the other. Flashes of images
scrolled by like graffiti on the sideboards of a passing train, with a velocity so great none of
them could be truly defined. The images were displayed in a circling fashion around the inside of
a tube in which the island was centered and suspended. Like movie film from a forgotten drivein cycling over and over in a stacked fashion
They walked towards the perimeter to observe the advance of the show they were witnessing.
Catching glimpses of them in the hasty playback, the picture began to drop in speed. The
reflections inside of the glass walls were snapshots of their previous lives, each becoming more
vivid to their new eyes. They stared in wonderment, overwhelmed with emotion at the
experiences remembered. The tempo became slower and slower as the scrolling photos began
to break way from the film and overlap...
Like the moment just before the carousel comes to a standstill, the photographs became
brighter with each layering, transforming into the same-mirrored cubes they had curiously
peered upon previously on this journey. They leaned against the cold glass wall to gaze once
more at what they would find. The glaring and blurred surface of the mirror deepened with
texture, as if it were full of twisting knife strokes from a crisp oil painting. Clarity enhanced with
each passing second, as the reflection of a young boy and girl staring from the inside of an
hourglass began to glisten, they slowly turned....
I couldn't help but be thrown into ecstasy by his visual details from the love letter. The
similarities between our visions were knocking me out! His engineering head was calling out to
my interdisciplinary head. I battled with myself for weeks of how we could visually show what
we both had seen in the world he described. The whole romance felt surreal with this man. I
had permanent butterflies and my soul felt at home.
54
We got inspired and took the story further. We imagined how wonderful it would be if
there was a hall of hourglasses somewhere, floating in some other dimension that represented
all human souls. If we could find that hall, we would recognize each others hourglasses and
could stop their sand from running out.
Then, he sent me an old antique hourglass for my birthday in November and I stared at
it for days. I needed time with this man. Time had changed from rushing around to wanting it to
stall so that I could savor every moment with this person.
Figure 22 Antique hourglass, digital sepia photograph, 2013
I filmed the hourglass, watched it pour sand into each side, and put it in different places
around my apartment to see if it triggered any more creative thoughts or ideas about how I
55
could technically rotate the hourglass inside Final Cut Pro. I had the hardest time replicating the
hourglass footage in Final Cut Pro to match the visual I was seeing in my mind. Josh stepped in
and designed me an hourglass via SolidWorks that I could then manipulate and replicate.
Figure 23 Spot view of simulated 3-D hourglass creation, screenshot from SolidWorks, 2013
56
Figure 24 Simulated 3-D hourglass, screenshot from SolidWorks, 2013
In the archived Support Materials I have included an interactive 3-D hourglass PDF that
Josh created. You can twist and turn and play with the hourglass with your computer mouse.
Check it out!
It became clear to me that my 2-D way of working was going to need an upgrade soon if
my work was beginning to morph into more three-dimensional planes. Surprisingly, Joshs 3-D
data transferred smoothly into my 2-D software before I started the big effects.
It became clear to Josh that after six months of courting, he would like to marry me. In
the midst of my semester and our creating of the hourglass world, he stopped time to change
our space. I moved into his Nashville art studio with him in December and he gave me a sneak
peek of my engagement ring. I would wear an engagement ring one day. My Stripping the Daisy
experiment prior to meeting Josh felt synchronistic or prophetic!
57
We began running a series of tests as Josh was playing with the rotation, geometry, and
look of the hourglass in SolidWorks and I was key-framing, colorizing, and playing with speed,
space, and different effects. I was trying to create the hall of hourglasses that I could potentially
layer with footage of the long road I would shoot our characters walking. The following photos
(Figures 25-30) document our process as we got further inspired and continued to envision
what the end result may look like.
Figure 25 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D, screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
58
Figure 26 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D, screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
Figure 27 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D with color, screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
59
Figure 28 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D with color, screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
Figure 29 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D with color/layers/movement,

screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
60
Figure 30 Playing with 3-D hourglasses in 2-D with color/layers/movement/over footage from
video, screenshot from Final Cut Pro 7, 2013
Deep Eyes
With our hourglass hall in creation mode, we needed to figure out how we wanted to
show our two characters lost in space. How could we appear to be in and out of this world
while attempting to stop time or share a long moment?
We figured out that we could roll a circular geometric sphere around the hourglass to
represent the initial details of his side of the story. I knew that I could somehow place the lovers
into one of the bulbs of the hourglass. Now we needed to find a place that we could shoot the
two of us walking down a long road or somewhere that would be lengthy enough for me to get
61
a deep focus 12 shot. I had it in my mind that I wanted to eventually take our characters and
make them be the only thing in focus (which defies the deep focus shot) but I could see that the
moment they were sharing would have to be the audience focal point. If I got a deep focus
shot, I could use effects to morph and blur the scenery around them without losing quality and
having the option to change my mind.
Figure 31 Deep Eyes: Cover Art, digital still from video, 1920 x 1080, 2014
Josh found us the perfect road in a park. It had just rained so the camera was picking up
reflections in the puddles of us walking. I loved it. The minute we took our last shot and made it
back to camera, the rain came pouring down again. Editing was no simple task on this piece.
We would sit in his warehouse for hours on end, both of us in front of our computers sharing
12
Deep focus is a cinematographic technique when the foreground, middle ground and background are
all in focus. Pramaggiore, Maria, and Tom Wallis. Film: A Critical Introduction. Boston: Pearson Allyn and
Bacon, 2011. Print.
62
files and seeing what we could get away with before my computer would crash. I was able to
create the void that essentially opens up and attempts to swallow our characters in and out of
their dimensions using an extreme amount of effects that almost took my computer down
more than a handful of times.
Working alongside my soon to be fianc was a joyful experience. His math skills are
amazing as he is used to working in a three-dimensional spaces. We agreed on our visual
choices and took note of our limitations. I watched as my art in this collaboration grew and
changed. The love that was being presented in my waking life had begun to seep into the work I
was creating. How exciting to visually express a long moment shared by two lovers who will
eventually see one another home back into one another, back into the world, into the
universe, back into everything. I had embodied what I had learned from my practices and
exploration. And I was able to sneak in my spirals of darkness and void without questioning the
void as much. It was love in the void. I could see that now.
Although we made the creative choice to use only one hourglass and not the hourglass
hall, we discussed our options to turn the hourglass hall into a walk through installation piece.
We have already started our plans for that. He can build anything so I am having a blast coming
up with wild ideas and watching him bring them to life!
The composer for this piece put his own interpretation into the visuals as only a true
collaborative piece could ask for. I do not have the rights yet to Jocelyn Pooks Red Song. It is
a work in progress but will be fine to use for educational and non-commercial means. Click on
this link to see the video or view the archived original in Support Materials: Deep Eyes
63
Conclusion
Taking this MFA journey provided me with the opportunity to focus, read, research,
practice, experiment, document, and dig into the depths of questions I had about the world
around me and the world within me. This experience has been the greatest gift I have ever
received or given to myself. I am overwhelmed with gratitude.
This journey has also been the most difficult exploration I have experienced in regards
to looking at myself and getting honest with who I am, where I am from, what I know, and what
I believe.
Finding my voice was the most exhilarating part of this entire process providing me with
a platform to trust my own inner wisdom. Expressing my voice gave me the ability to recreate
my personal story and morph it into something that was manageable, curious, and imaginative.
Discovering how that changed my way of thinking, my way of being, and trickled into
transforming me, and my art, is knowledge that I can share with others for the rest of my
existence.
Understanding the importance of documenting my process as an artist has become the
highlight of the journey. Articulating my ideas will play a vital role as I head back into the world
and after rigorous research, I feel confident to discuss and share my findings that catapulted my
personal transformation.
Being able to discuss, defend and argue the works of countless artists, concepts and
theories include: Unraveling and transforming the SELF inside out; Self-observation; Dichotomy;
Left vs. Right brain thoughts; Cartesian dreams; Shamanic dreaming; Memories vs. Reality;
64
Imagination Inspiration Somatic Knowledge Buddhism and bardo; Reincarnation; Death; Loss
of love; Healing Love; Desire; Phenomena Alchemy; Energy; Symmetry and Asymmetry
Exploration of Spirals, Geometry and Space Dimensions Depth, Light and Color Shadows Idea
of home; How to sustain disciplines when uprooted Toxic parents Childhood imprints and
comforts Nature Patterns and Synchronicity Catharsis and Closure Animating inanimate
objects Symbolism in film; Hourglass and Time Eros and Psyche Phoenix and Rebirth;
Storytelling Creative Midwifery, Collaboration and Interdisciplinary Art; The Surrealists;
Visionary, lucid and philosophical art Phenomenology Aristotle; Bill Viola; Alex Grey; Alejandro
Jodorowsky; John Patrick Shanley; Remedios Varo; Salvadore Dali; Lynn Hershman Leeson;
Cindy Sherman; Nan Goldin; Maya Deren; Meret Oppenheim; David Lynch; Gasper Noe; Roman
Polanski; Woody Allen; Einstein; Freud and Jung; Leonard Shlain; George Gurdjieff; Mildred
Cram; Elisabeth Haich; Bell Hooks; and Ernest Becker.
Being able to experience for myself what I have been doing for others with my past
training has been informative and eye opening. Having deepened my inquiries and furthered
my practices, I cannot wait to put my new theories into action. Witnessing my own
transformation of healing through art will only benefit the people I reach out to in the world. I
would like my journey to be contagious and help others who have experienced limbo or
questioned death.
I imagine my future as a continuation of splashing the canvas in Hollywood, building
more opportunities for collaboration and strengthening my voice as a visual storyteller. I
envision my creative writing becoming a stronger suit in the way I approach my art and the film
business. I would like to continue to search for venues in which I can teach my creative doula
65
and somatic workshops as a means of reaching out to different communities spreading

curiosity, imagination and creativity. I would love my work to grow into three-dimensional and
interactive installations.
I embrace the love bug that I am for finding the strength and the courage to face the
trauma and learn that love is an energetic force that connects all of us through life and through
the concept of death. Locating the love I had for myself reconnected me to the love I thought I
had lost. I will continue to march to my own tune using my dreams and visions as a guide into
creating new worlds that provide me and others with a different sense of what love can be.
With the help of a fallen Blue Angel, numerous mentors, and Goddard College for their
intense and progressive program, I head back into the world a changed woman, artist,
collaborator, and teacher. Through synchronicity, phenomena, and imagination I will be
married 12-13-14 to a being who has taught me how to enjoy moments in the infinite black
spiraling loops and with whom I am destined to make eternal art with. I have never been so
ready to receive and take on this new phase of spiritual, mental and physical support that
awaits me. I wish the same for everyone else on their journeys.
Look for me to be swinging upside down somewhere - thinking about death and love waiting to give one of my infamous love bug hugs!
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Appendix
Miscellaneous Artwork
Portfolio Cover Creative Birth, digital manipulated photograph, 2014
Video Projects
"Beggars & Choosers" Vimeo LINK
"Unraveling" Vimeo LINK
"Moon Madness & The Tigress Within" Vimeo LINK
"No Frets: Study of Everyday Phenomena" Vimeo LINK
"At Last" Vimeo LINK
"Vessel in the Void" Vimeo LINK
"Stripping the Daisy" Vimeo LINK
"Deep Eyes" Vimeo LINK
**Original files of screenplay and videos can be found online

under Support Materials**
67
Annotated Bibliography
Aristotle, and Gerald Frank Else. Aristotle: Poetics. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan, 1967.
Print. Inquiry into Catharsis and the feeling humans can experience after a Tragedy (or
trauma) in a story. My undergraduate thesis was about Aristotles Poetics and Euripides
play Medea. I became rather obsessed with the idea of catharsis not just in a play or
movie experience, but how it could occur in our life stories as well. My journey into
understanding catharsis guided me into how I would come to understand my journey as
a spiritual transformation.
Bonnet, James. "Online Story and Writing Course: Stealing Fire from the Gods." James Bonnet's
Storymaking. N.p., n.d. Web. 29 May 2012. <http://www.storymaking.com/>. I highly
recommend Bonnets courses for anyone searching about how to write a screenplay.
The high concept film is the formula that we are continuing to see in most of the films
that we see in theaters. The high concept films are the moneymakers (for now). I was
drawn to his diagrams and delved into his advice for Great Characters; High Concept
Parts 1 & 2; The Metaphor is King; The Real Key to a Writer's Success; The Role of the
Problem; The Coming Age of Story; Hidden Structures in Great Stories; The Creative
Unconscious Self; The Secret Language of Stories Parts 1 & 2; The Storywheel; The
Golden Paradigm.
Grey, Alex. Vision and Mission, To See or Not to See, Deeply Seeing, The Mystic Eye, Illuminating
Visions, Art of Goodwill, Art as a Spiritual Practice. The Mission of Art. Boston:
Shambhala, 2001. 1-255. Print. Grey takes on the post-modern and contemporary artists
by simple and inquisitive text into the motives behind art and it's "soul" objective. His
narratives throughout the book are extremely inspiring and I was drawn to his work
because of his use of light and how he depicts energy in our body systems. He probes
into artistic ability and orientation to the connectivity of higher planes of consciousness,
and the placement of those spiritual moments within the art, and the purpose of art.
We had similar questions and thoughts on death, inspiration, imagery: and healing,
seeing art, and dreaming.
Holecek, Andrew. The Power and the Pain: Transforming Spiritual Hardship into Joy. Ithaca, NY:
Snow Lion Publications, 2009. Print. From a spiritual perspective and a deeper look into
Buddhism, this book journeys into obstacles we will hit along the way in life - physically,
spiritually, and psychologically. It was a lovely reminder to not sweat the small stuff and
also had vital information when the author goes into the larger obstacles and in
particular, when he discussed divine play and what we return to the end of our lives the feminine and the primordial mother. He helped me better understand Buddhism
filled with hefty meditation practice and how the shadows of our hardships heighten on
our enlightened paths. In my search for transforming the self, I found his book handed
to me at a synchronistic time and when I got to the end of the book, he had the
68
beautiful quote about fighter pilots final words that I would use for the end cap of my
homage film to my fallen pilot.
Hooks, Bell. All about Love: New Visions. New York: Harper Perennial, 2001. 1-178.
Print. Searching for what love is as a concept and as a state in which we have been
accustomed to on Valentines Day. I enjoyed Bell Hooks frankness in her approach to
discussing matters of our hearts. I found her advice on choosing love to be the most
optimal for my growth. I shared in Hooks thoughts: Fear of truth and growing up lying
to not hurt feelings. Why does it hurt when we are honest? Is that Ego? Notes I took
from the book for contemplation: lovelessness is a boom to consumerism; good girl
syndrome; women exude power and self-confidence as a need to exist in a man's world;
doing work we hate assaults our self-esteem; bringing love back into the workplace; we
cannot be in jobs that make us unhappy - it will reflect back into the home and create
unbalance; self-love was the most difficult chapter for Hooks to write; men want power
- women want emotional attachment and connection; patriarchal thinking; women who
give love and selfless adoration appear to be obsessed with love but it's really about the
way in which they can hold power in the relationship; romantic love meeting the girl
of our dreams syndrome; romantic love in regards to the expression of falling in love;
how to avoid repeating old patterns; Intensity blinds us from seeing that we may not
really be compatible or that we may not really be with a person that we have training
ourselves to think is the ideal; choosing love.
Levy, Mark. Technicians of Ecstasy: Shamanism and the Modern Artist. Norfolk, CT: Bramble,
1993. Print. Looking closely at the relationships and similarities between certain artist
techniques of seeing, dreaming and performing that mimic or mirror the activities that
shamans experience. Although I never considered my process in art making to be
shamanistic, Levy helped me understand that some of my techniques are of a dying
breed. Or not practiced regularly in our contemporary scene. I particularly was
interested in what he had to say about Alex Grey, which led me on the hunt for more of
Greys opinion on art, dreams, and death. Levy got me very interested in delving deeper
into the studies of shamanism.
Pramaggiore, Maria, and Tom Wallis. Film: A Critical Introduction. Boston: Pearson Allyn and
Bacon, 2011. Print. Film is an art form worthy of intellectual and critical arguments and
this is a dry, process driven book. Great examples for each process along with the how,
the why, and the whos of Hollywood. I didnt find enough information here about why
people are able to have an "experience" psychologically through the medium as I was
looking to combine that with my catharsis research. Great section on mise en scene,
which led me to researching mise en abyme for future installation ideas using mirrors
for reflection and refraction purposes. Deep focus shots, which led me to researching
Poetic Realism and inspired me for my film experiment Deep Eyes.
69
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Cassie Ann Ross Goddard College Mfaia Portfolio

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Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 1 Through The Peephole, digital manipulated photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Corfield, Justin, ed. "Doula." Encyclopaedia Britannica. Http://www.britannica.com/, 09 Mar. 2013.

love transforms as an art practice.

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Creative Doula Holds Up Her Mirror

Creative Doula Taps Her Magic Hammer

Creative Doula Finds Her Home

**Original files of screenplay and videos can be found online

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

A somatic discipline used as a healing tool would be significant to my understanding of,

Journal excerpt Another Day in Hollywood

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 2 Collage of Me and United States Navy Officer Lieutenant Commander

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Writing the Screenplay Blue Angel

Dream journal excerpt Slow Dancing

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Jumping Back to Childhood Visions & Curiosities

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Creative Doula Taps

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Dream journal excerpt Unraveling

Figure 4 Spiral experiment with headshot, digital photographs, 2012

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 6 Modern Day Cave Girl, digital manipulated photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 8 Dimensions, digital manipulated still from footage, 2013

Figure 9 Surviving Thermal Coils, digital manipulated photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 14 At Last, digital still photograph from video, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Vessel in the Void

Figure 15 Vessel in the Void, digital still from video, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Rebirth & The Phoenix Series

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Stripping the Daisy

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 18 Lines and Animated Figures, original digital photograph, 2013

Figure 19 Lines and Animated Figures, digital b & w photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 20 Stripping the Daisy, original digital photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Finding Love in an Hourglass World

Figure 22 Antique hourglass, digital sepia photograph, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio

Figure 24 Simulated 3-D hourglass, screenshot from SolidWorks, 2013

Cassie Ann Ross -- Goddard College -- MFA Interdisciplinary Art Portfolio