Dead air thoroughly disturbs broadcasters... sends a chill down the spine. It begs questions about potential unfulfilled, about loss, about trouble. Is there a problem? Is everything all right? What happened?
In our area, there's a popular extra-credit assignment from elementary and high school English teachers: Get out your blue pencil and proofread the daily newspaper.
The assistant cameraman on a tapeless HD shoot is responsible for trafficking the memory cards, keeping them organized, safely dumping them and re-loading the camera.
And so I sit, for the thousandth time in my life, facing a mountain of production music discs, and mumbling under my breath. Hateful task.
The last several years have seen a revolution in color-correction techniques, one in which the electron team—us video folks—have merged paths with the photon team—the film guys.
As a truck guy, when you show up for work, you’ve got no guarantee of a good meal or a clean restroom or even electric power.
There's something inherently appealing about being the first on your block with an ingenious new gadget.
Extreme skateboarders and BMX bikers appear to hover in mid-air, while home viewers’ vantage points slowly rotate around the acrobatic athletes.
Among the many creaky aphorisms I'm fond of dropping on those around me, none reflects that good ol' American bottom-line sensibility as much as this one: "You get nothin' for nothin'."
As in medicine, the highly focused television specialist lives and works at the pinnacle of his or her art. So what could be more exciting than when specialist meets specialist?
So who was it, I want to know, who decreed that an edit suite must be lit like an anthracite seam at midnight?