Issue link: http://digital.copcomm.com/i/831804
scurrying across the courtyard to the monitors to witness the rest of Chiron's beating. Chiron's full vulnerability is exposed, nurtured and shared by Kevin just the night before, and now the boys look at each other straight on, and Kevin has seconds to decide if he is going to throw a punch to avoid getting on the school bully 's s**t list. I explore the set medic's kit and use butterfl y Band-Aids and a tiny ball of gauze to do a last-minute, deliberately half-assed, fi rst-aid kit treatment on Chiron's raw wounds. As he is gently interrogated by the school principal, Chiron's silence turns to mumbles and stifl ed sobs, and the tiny ball of gauze keeps slid- ing further and further out of his nostril. I only fi x it when it slides all the way out. We are dead silent watching this scene on the monitor. We are not on our phones. Some of us are looking down, and some of us have watery eyes. This is live storytelling and my contribution is powerful. There are times when I'm content, even happy, with what I've chosen to fervently pursue as my career despite the real challenges I mentioned earlier. Then there are times when I'm so deeply en- trenched in the present moment that I don't even care who I am, where I've been or where I'm going next. All anxieties are gone, and it feels like pure, untethered joy. I've experienced this feeling just enough times in my career so far to be able to recognize it for what it is. This is what I keep coming back and showing up for. "Hi Randy, it's Donni. I got 30 days on Moonlight. Call me back when you get a chance. I look forward to meeting you." • (Editor's note: Donni is now a proud trainee make-up artist member of Local 706!) ity collaboration between us begins. I'm able to get to know her face, take risks, make and fi x mistakes. I can go overboard and wipe it all away instead of pretending like nothing happened and silently trying to blend the mess away while putting on that "Everything's Great in Make-up Artist Land" face. If you exist in the moviemaking part of the make-up artist landscape, you may be like me and have to confess that you may have, once or twice, envied celebrity make-up artists who avoid the rough terrain and long faraway journeys; the ones who have paved out stealthy careers for themselves while staying close to the red carpet. You may be like me and have chosen to be a make- up artist solely because you wanted to help tell stories by work- ing on movies. The pressure to fulfi ll the creative visions of the director, cater to the personal/emotional/creative needs of actors, do it all under the inevitable constraints of time and money, roll with all the punches with a compliant "copy that" and just the occasional burst of frustration, to show up for 12 hours and stay another six, eat rubber clumps of eggs in the cold, live on the brink of a UTI because you don't want to pee behind a rock, and with the most challenge: to neglect your own health, wellness and personal relationships for the sake of telling someone else's story. We are not heroes, but this is a struggle we keep coming back to and showing up for. I barely breathe or blink as I watch the blood spill from Chi- ron's mouth. Barry cuts the scene and we start again. After the second punch, Chiron (Ashton Sanders) swoops down and meets me outside of the frame where I load his mouth with wa- tery blood. The camera swerves differently than it did during the last take, and I trip and scramble to avoid being in the scene,