Jaumear

Remember the post from a while ago called “A weird but juicy day”? Well then. This is the second part. That’s right my friends, at last I got the hands model job for, now I can say it, “La Caixa”, soon in your best living rooms. It turns out after hard negotiations about salaries, working time, shooting days and others, we finally agreed the terms of the production company. Therefore, on the last december the second, we shot the advert. Time: 10:30 at such and such a place, first floor. I get there about ten minutes earlier and I have a little communication problem with the porter of the building: Where are you going?, he asks, to the first floor, I answer. He stares at me quietly, it wasn’t enough info. But, to do what?, he says. To work, I respond. It is still not enough, the worst part is he is obviously half asleep, but keeps acting as stubborn as two blind mules. But, for what?, he insists. Let’s see: first of all, have a coffee, second: what’s wrong, you think I’m going to kill somebody? I don’t say either of these, of course, and simply reply: I’m recording an advert. Oh, sure (he stutters), em, (stutters again while two men lift some shooting material behind me, dude, if you really need more clues, I’m out of ideas) yeah, yeah, you can go. I move on through the porter’s security control and make my way to the first floor. Two doors. Nobody said anything about two doors. One is open. Ok: infiltration’s fase two, lucky I got here early. A guy speaks through his phone at the landing. I say hello with my hand like: hi, I’m the hands model, is the shooting here? He says hello back with his hand too, flipping, like: who the hell are you and why are you greeting me? We must talk, signs are useless. Hello, I say, is the shooting for La Caixa here? He doesn’t know, stutters, no, he doesn’t, eeeeeeeem, well, he says, maybe if I tried the other door. The locked one. While this takes place, behind the guy there’s a coming and going of lights, tripods and other movies’ stuff. Sure, it must be in the other door, I answer with little certainty. I knock. They open. Hello, ¿I’m Jaume? It actually comes out like a question, yes, because I didn’t know anymore what other trials destiny was holding for me. Oedipus sphinx, a child’s play. Hello, Jaume, come in. At last. I enter and comment the fact that in the door in front there are a lot of lights and stuff, she answers both flats are connected. It’s awesome when people know things. Relax, I’m made it. Before me, the breakfast table. I enclose picture.

I make an expresso for myself. Oh, glory. People shows from the little corridor which connects the huge whole first floor. They introduce themselves, I do so, nice mood, smiles, kindness… Perfect, in short. It’s the calm before the storm. They show me the shooting set I right there, before my eyes, the love of my life. 12.000 euros of pure digital movie passion: the red one. I enclose images of the very instant we fell in love.

The set has a great arrangement… For actors and those who work behind the camera. They show me the place where I will stay for the next ten hours. The hands model is usually bugged, but this is going to hurt.

Oh, you don’t see it well. All right. This is the position, changing between standing up and sitting down, for the camera operator in the next ten hours:

This one is for the actors, Ariadna and Abel, those two little suckers:

In the end, this is going to be MY stand, with slight variations, during the next ten hours:

In this last photo I even smile. Poor thing, I was beginning the day. The point is there was a lot of work in the shooting. I had fun, but it was complicated to keep the stability of the little notebook I was holding, mantain the right page turning cadence, switch positions, hold my head back, avoid showing my sleaves… And the stand was horrible. When we finally ended filming all shots, at about eight o’clock in the evening, I realized how screwed I really was. Legs shaking, trashed thumbs (I only could think never to be able to play videogames anymore), burning biceps… Pain, tons of pain, but a smile on my face for a work well done and all the good people I met. Anyway, I hope you enjoy watching the spot on TV. If anyone asks, yes, it was me. If they don’t, you could give them the link to my site. Greetings, see you in the next adventure.

It turns out, for no specific reason, there was a casting on the last wednesday for a hands advert for a certain brand which name I can’t remember (if they hire me, maybe my mind clears up) I couldn’t attend. Friday evening comes. I’m out from dubbing classes and find out some missed calls from the models’ agency. I call back: the brand… (I’m not telling unless they hire me, don’t insist) contacted us to know if they could meet you this evening or tomorrow morning. I answer there is no problem and they tell me to wait five minutes, so they can tell me when to go. By the way, the place where the casting takes place is in Santa Coloma de Gramenet and I am in the very center of Barcelona. Anyway, it’s far as hell. Phone rings while I’m walking home, I pick it up, it is not going to be today but tomorrow morning. Great. And I’ve already arranged a party tonight. Night comes: I go out anyway, but avoiding anything pointy with my hands: I’m sorry baby, but I can’t touch you up, you could injure one of my ligaments or worse, but taht doesn’t mean you can’t… Why go further. The point is next morning arrives. The alarm clock wakes me up. I could seriously hurt the guy who invented the beeps for this stuff. It’s nine o’clock. My head hurts and my stomach wants to exit my body through my mouth. I manage to get to the bathroom. No way that guy in the mirror is me. I’m blink twice, raise a hand… Shit, it is me. Looks like I’ve been in a huge fight. Rings under the eyes: deep and dark. Beard: three days long… Face: pale as death. But the most important, hands: in perfect shape. Maybe somebody will give me some coins in the subway, but my hands look awesome. Shower and dress. Exit. The subway journey feels eternal. Then the walk to the spot. All this for 240 euros less the 20 percent the agency takes and what taxes suck. I feel like a jerk. And that is if they hire me, don’t forget it’s a casting. I finally get to the place. I ring the door. A guy opens. I am Jaume Aguiló, my voice sound like crab. Come in, come in. He makes me fill a casting form: name, I.D., someshit… Height, Shirt size, Trousers… Do you really need this? Yes, yes, he says. I shut up and keep writing. I’m really fond of the form’s question: are you free on the designated filmind date? Hell, I hope so, after the shitty day I’m having. But the greater was yet to come: I finish filling the data and he asks me: Do you snowboard? Eeeeeeeeeem… Now I don’t follow. I come for the hands. Aaaaaah! He says. I knew it. Come inside, we’ll do the casting. The stuff is hard. It is about holding a rectangular pad before the camera in an unbelievable position even for a kamasutra expert and turn its pages with a certain speed so the printed images on them can look like moving. Ok, it’s fine so far. The trick is the so called movement has to be put on top of actual characters who are sitting in the back. That is, you can see real people’s legs in the back and their torsos are printed on the sheets of the pad and I have to make it look like they are actually moving. On top of that the torsos on the imprinted stills move too from side to side, which means I have to adapt the positions with the real characters in the back. In that moment I feel God’s hatred towards me. In the end, the guy likes how I did it. I take a look to the clock: one hour. David Mamet used to say actors were whores, lucky me he never spoke about hand models. I go bakc to the subway, taht huge non cybernetic social network. There I find a woman who is supposedly talking to her mother through the phone and who reveals to me an unquestionable truth: mom, she says, there are fights in every marriage, and those who say there aren’t is because they don’t love each other. Fuck me. I figure the United States are a very love giver nation. The world’s teletubbies. I bomb you because I love you, buddy. Meanwhile I notice I cought a cold in the street and feel snot running down my nose. So I do what every man or women with studies but without handkerchief would do. I wipe myself with the back of my hand. And this way, with snots and bombs I give an ending to this post. I know it has been a while since the last one, but there was a little logistic misunderstanding which has been already solved.

My friends continuously push me to introduce in my blog my advert side. So here it is. I’m a hands model. Yes, a freak who actually loses money every time he burns himself cooking. I’ve done many adverts in the last two years, but the one who launched me to the hands star system was my first job with them. No, I’m not referring to anything related to sex. It was for Telefonica (one of the most important telecom companies in Spain), “slightly” imitating the “daft hands” video in youtube. Hope you enjoy my work and I expect to hang more videos or fotos as soon as possible.