Donate to ASS Studios
Q: "So what's the deal with this new "donate" button? Are you guys in desperate need of cash THAT bad??"
A: Not at all. In regards to placing a donate button on this site, we are simply allowing people who enjoy our work to contribute and help us continue in our goal. By donating to ASS Studios (Art Star Scene Studios), you will be helping our production company grow, develop, and continue working in a completely independent manner. In the past, we have self-financed every single one of our pictures and continue to do so. We have also tried to do as best as we can to make our work available to the public either free via the internet or at a low-cost DVD. In the 'Films' section of this website, you are able to view trailers and occasionally even full length short films which we produced.
Q: "So what's the point of donating? You guys seem like you have your shit together!... kinda"
A: We are trying our best! Each donation helps allow us to afford equipment, production costs such as hard-drives, occasional props, and other necessary needs for a small-time, no-budget production company to exist and continue bringing you the sleaziest films on the Lower East Side! At the moment, we are in production of our first feature length film "Satan, Hold My Hand" and much of your donations will go to helping us complete the production as easy as humanly possible... and believe us, for ASS, that's always tricky! But we will and ALWAYS do finish our work and stand by as proud as ever of each one of our films.
Q: "But I'm broke too! Is there a limit as to how much I need to give?"
A: Stop whining and No, not at all! Give as much or as little as you'd like! We appreciate the gesture equally either way!
Q: "So why not just use Kickstarter or indiegogo?"
A: Good point! The reason we have decided to NOT use those platforms is because we honestly, being so no-budget, have really nothing to give back other than a HUGE thanks to our donors. We also believe that if someone really cares about what we are doing, they will help out without needing an incentive other than seeing some really cool films being created as far away from the Hollywood mainstream as possible. We do promise however, to give a Thanks to each donor in the credits of 'Satan, Hold My Hand'. We hope you understand our broke-ness! Either way, we appreciate all the donations already given and cannot wait to bring you the newest of ASS Studios! And believe me, it's gonna be good! Oh yeah, and the film WILL be completed either way, these donations just help us get over a few minor bumps in the road. Love to you all. See you on the small screen soon folks!
Posted on 06 Feb 2013
New short essay. 'The Pigeon'.
Pigeons are disgusting, diseased-ridden, ugly birds. They are always covered in a slick gleam of grease, eating garbage, and getting in your way. It takes a lot for a person not to boot a pigeon across the street when in a rush. They take their sweet ass time sniffing around and causing you to stumble, trip or push others just to avoid them. If reincarnation does exist, the ones who would come back as pigeons would be the lowest of the low; the pedophiles, rapists, murderers, mother-beating, child abusing, dog killing, crooked politician scum of the earth motherfuckers. The life of a pigeon is as meaningless, pointless and stupid as any I can think of. At least, that was my thought up until this specific morning in the early autumn of 2012.
I woke up with the same hangover I've experienced nearly every morning for the past ten years. The kind of hangover that comes along with mental anguish, self-hatred, depression and a regret for everything said and done the night before. This type of hangover is easy to shake off however with the help of a few morning beers. It will then persist throughout the day, lingering in the back of your head, and eventually make a full wrap around around the late afternoon when the help of whiskey is necessary.
In my normal daze, I stumbled out of bed, drank a few stale beers which were previously opened the night before by a few guests of ours but not finished. I realized the garbage smelt like shit, most likely from the rotting fruit and old beans and rice I had tossed out weeks earlier. I decided it was time to rid my apartment of this horrific stench and bring out the garbage. A task which I may hate even more than doing dishes.
As I dragged the twenty pound bag of soiled garbage down the six flights of stairs it was then where I noticed two pigeons sitting side by side one another on the windowsill. They seemed happy, though I am no pigeon whisperer. Yet by the way they stood so closely and occasionally nuzzled their heads against each other, I figured they were mates. Later did I realize that pigeons are one of the only birds who do actually mate for a lifetime. One had a beautiful purple sheen to its wings which impressed me. I watched them for a moment, and even though the moment was tender and sweet, I still hated them for being dirty, stinking, pigeons and moved on with my day. The moment vanished from my mind as soon as I tossed out the garbage and went on with my life. A life which may or may be as meaningless as theirs.
A few nights later, coming in from the local dive bar across the street from my apartment, I happened to notice two pigeons standing side by side each other in the alleyway area where we place our garbage. These two pigeons caught my attention due to the fact that one of them seemed to be contorted, its neck twisted like a pretzel, causing his head to remain upside down. It was an unusual moment, not short of something I would see in a Werner Herzog documentary. I realized due to the purple sheen on its back, that it happened to be the same pigeon couple I had noticed earlier that week. This time however, they didn't seem as happy. The other pigeon sat quietly next to its injured mate and would occasionally nuzzle once again into it, but this only seemed to hurt the other bird, which would pathetically hop away, only to either fall or trip. When it would try to fly, it would hit the walls of the building and fall back down to the cold, hard, cement ground. It seemed as if the bird had injured itself by possibly falling from its perch, but couldn't be so sure.
I showed my girlfriend the two pigeons, who remained mostly in the same area since I last found them. When she tried to approach them, they scrambled away almost in hysterics. The injured bird would try to fly but only fall back down and try again. Its mate remained by its side the entire time. I noticed that my girlfriend was touched by this and to be honest, so was I. The confusion, fear and vulnerability which both those innocent animals must have been experiencing makes me incredibly sad. When I was a child, I was unable to watch any movie that involved the death of an animal, whether I liked that type of animal or not, the fact that an animal died made me sad. I believe it is due to the fact that they are unaware of what is going on and there is no way to explain it to them. You can comfort them, but they will still die in confusion and fear. When it came down to humans dying in films, I could care less.
For a day, we continued to check on the pigeons and even notified a bird rescue group, who, after explaining the injured birds obscure symptoms, said that there was a virus going around in birds which causes similar symptoms which we were observing. The virus could not be transfered to humans, but would most certainly kill the bird within the next twenty four hours. There was nothing we could do. It was pointless to bring it to a vet. It would be wrong to separate it from its mate, so we simply let everything take its natural course.
The next morning, we noticed both pigeons still in the same place. It had survived the night! I thought about them all night, sitting together, spending their final hours together, nuzzling each other, comforting each other and making the most out of their final moments, whether they were aware of approaching fatality or not. We were so excited to see the bird alive that we celebrated with a drink and called our friends to tell them the story. We ended up getting drunk well into the late afternoon, using the birds survival as an excuse to drink even though we didn't need one, and came back to the apartment joyful and happy. Before heading up the six flights of stairs to our apartment, we wanted to see the pigeon one last time. It had somehow become almost like a pet to us, as we were the only ones trying to take care of it. On any other day, a pigeon is just a pigeon. A garbage eating, greasy, shitty pigeon.
The duo were not in their normal spot, so we wandered down the narrow cement steps into the boiler group figuring they may have been scared of our presence and moved to a more private spot. And there it was. Its lifeless body curled up, twisted and disgruntled in a puddle of dirty garbage water. Its mate wandered around the dirty room as if pacing back and fourth out of disbelief and sadness that its love is gone forever. It made no noise, as pigeons sometimes do, and the three of us stood silently over the corpse of the contorted bird. We began to cry and I only could pray that their last moments together would good ones, though I highly doubt it. After all, a pigeon is just a pigeon. A filthy, disease-ridden, garbage eating, shitty pigeon. Unfortunately for their sake, they seem to actually have souls and emotion. They seem to understand love, probably in some cases, better than we do. All this makes the fact that they will never be more than a disgusting bird all the more hard to deal with.
C.F. Sell. 2013
Posted on 03 Feb 2013