Adam Cushman helped me find my darkness with this piece, it was rooted in a longing for the past in adolescence and lost love, a time when people followed their desire without consideration for every consequence, but to challenge status quo with action.Read More
World premier of “Five Families” at TCL Chinese Theatre as part of Dances With Films.
A semi-retired associate of the jewish mafia in Los Angeles tries to save his young grandson from a life of crime as three corrupt cops crack down on local criminals.Read More
Undergoing research for the 4th Draft of The Peter Fuller Project and coming near its completion, I looked back at this documentary by Mike Dibb about the relationship between my father and the American Abstract Expressionist Bob Natkin. The first and on of the only American artist that my father rated in his time for his emotional and aesthetic facilities, in an otherwise cold and disinterested climate of the contemporary American art landscape at that time.
Robert Natkin’s wedding gift to Peter Fuller and Stephanie Burns, The Acrobat currently hangs in Heather James Fine Art
I was very happy that Echoes Of You had the opportunity to screen at Newport Beach Film Festival because of the whale watching community and conservation in Newport Beach, I learnt recently that in the echo of a whale, there is recorded, in the textures and every scratch of its tone; a map of everywhere it has been, its social groups, how it felt about its environment and all the other creatures surrounding. That is just like us, and the echoes that we as people leave on others.Read More
The below reading is an extract from Minotaur’s Song, a poem I’ve been working on for the better part of a year, Oyster Tree is chapter 9 of 12 chapters. It is a fairy tale based on art history, but it is also a deeply personal story. To receive a full copy of all 12 chapters of Minotaurs Song, inquire here
Poem written and read by Laurence Fuller
Cover art by Laurence Fuller
Art by Laurence Fuller, Manet, Caillebotte, Osias Beert, Theodule Ribot, Enrique Martinez Celaya, Guillermo Lorca, Emma Webster, Arthur Boyd, Matt Wedel, Heidi Yardley, Lucian Freud
Now Streaming: on Amazon Prime, Vudu, tubi, iTunes, Google Play etc.
Starring: Laurence Fuller
Director/Writer: Paul T Murray
Produced by and Co-Starring: Chad Addison & Tommy Kijas
Cinematographer/Producer: Steven Mangurten
Supporting Cast: Sally Kirkland, Jack McGee, Randy Wayne, Ray Diaz, Jacinta Stapleton, Martin Kove, Kirby Bliss Blanton, Khleo Thomas
Distributor: Gravitas Ventures
Struggling artist Ciaran (Laurence Fuller) stumbles upon two duffel bags of cash, $650,000, to be exact. His buddies Owen (Tommy Kijas) and Trevor (Chad Addison) have different opinions on what he should do with it, but time starts ticking when the original robbers (Khleo Thomas, Ray Diaz) come looking for the stolen loot that they stashed away! The body count rises each day as the gangbanger thieves hunt for their money. For all they know, maybe it was the hooker next door who took it. Or Ciaran's girlfriend (Kirby Bliss Blanton). Or Stuntman Scabs (Martin Kove) and his two sidekicks. Or Ballerina Lana (Cassie Steele). Or the Deaf Couple. Or apartment manager Adele (Sally Kirkland). Perhaps Detective McNutty (Jack McGee) and his partner Detective Dark (Randy Wayne) can prevent the death toll from rising off the easel. For what it's worth, it's all happening in the dumped off dirty cousin of Hollywood...NoHo.
“Laurence Fuller plays a directionless young man having a very bad weekend in "Road to the Well," a low-budget neo-noir distinguished by strong characters and a skewed perspective.” - LA Times
An unconventional PhD dropout (Laurence Fuller) & his drifter best friend get tangled in a surreal web of murder & deceit in Road To The Well, a dark, quirky thriller following in the footsteps of Blood Simple & Very Bad Things. From award-winning screenwriter & first-time filmmaker John Cvack, this festival favorite – an Official Selection at the San Diego International & Lone Star Film Festivals, & winner of “Best of Fest” at the Long Beach Indie International Film Festival, arrives on DVD & leading digital platforms including iTunes, Amazon, Google Play, Xbox & Sony PlayStation on January 2017 from distributor Candy Factory Films.
FULL FILM NOW ON POPCORNFLIX
Painting by Enrique Martinez Celaya - Poem by Laurence Fuller
Angels on the beach crash all the black back lit warriors charging the best of the best. Beating wings on the winds of change, there’s now homes and bounties where migrants bless the skies for hope of another country where the water’s warmer. Where hope more freely comes to the rescue of good nature. Where we struck accord in nectar of bigger flowers, flourishing in the glistening rain. Bursting petals under the dawn of waxed out evenings charge the gorgeous sparrows flurry hundreds of colorful feathers. Lift up the aviary of time, there the boy pledges himself to the fresh morning of opportunity, wet the air, golden rays of grit shine dalliance daring and romantic. Open hearts win over crusted cancers, live with promise, I’ve omened so much along this perfect path. Green jade beaks, peck perfectly off the martial honor contemplate the haze, drifting channels in the air know the difference between the wall and the illusions wafting horizons with their ways. Challenge the maker, the creator, the opulent abolition. Ceremony is where he lays his demons to the rest of time.
Poem by Laurence Fuller
Bell of the ball, tapping fizzy champagne, glistening like golden artifice bulb bowls of sushi candy meat, luxury blessed our mouths. Yours, mine and ours, we know this day would come, matter most to us it’s now done, time to run through fields of our mind. Blinded by the shine reflected off cocktail glasses we left behind their turn to prove how much they care for us, but of course and we for them. Those owners happy management towards us, ringing drops dripping down our chins, well earned here we are today again we are on ice, the rocks rocked whiskey cups, is this real we were pulled together in this strange place. Firemen blessed my chest with heavy arms push me back and watch me dance, my fists to my chin where you been boy, touch me with mad love, your fists to mine, bing bang we’ll hurry this mad bad man down that ladder where he came, bells ring out swirling where you came, bring it I love this merry mischief, I’ll move my shoulders back and forth of course, of course, it’s all there, played spinning, one misstep those curtains fall that wizard beneath hearty laughter a tower of Marie Antoinette cups tumble shatter shards all reflecting ourselves pick them up and now that cuts, lick up that nicked our flesh and blood drips our lives like lucky friendship my lover, happy now, chuckles muck the ruffles of our sleeves, let’s leave it all to this, how’s danger sound? Like the tapping of a typewriter? Like the chorus in the background? Like the sound of the crowd? Like the bell of the ball? Tap for that poem out loud tap it like a corrective bubble forming round a paper shadow, turn it over, and over, and over. Notes to show the spiked shoes I hung up on my door, rebels of this unconscious war, rebel, rebel, rebel to all that distinction built up facade, fascinating repetitive, unpredictable suits of silk, flashy cards frame the wall, one by one, state into them and remember me, my reflection in you, down liquor like a good thing in my mind, tricks too taught like wire, we gather round the bonfire. Let all spill out now you know, now you know.
Stills from the feature film “Phantom Thread”
Where is she in that crowd? Where does she run? What does it all mean when I watch that star light up the sky buzzing in the night, I can’t catch it and put it in my pocket can’t flit and flicker, hold on man, make dresses while you can, that’s all you can do, that’s what you were built for, I’ve cut silk shadows on the floor. Don’t get anxious and drop the balloons again.
She came in, to all that structure caused rupture to all the trodden footsteps left before, stomping on each one with dancing shoes tapping on my chest. I’ve slipped and lost my place, all those Gentry waiting for my grace and yet I’ve simply crumbled structures I built up, held cups slipped through my fingers, sudden stops in that mushroom soup. She would not come quietly with a purr but with the flamboyance of a roar. Took your medicine while you swam through all the memories, shook out those demons trapped and locked up down there, forgive them for rattling cages, they clutch the bars calling out and out it all seems different now. Strange romantics rumbling in you to stroke the cat once more. Not what you thought but what it is. Cat and bird or lion and eagle, both regal, maybe both at once, maybe spun like cotton and sowed to as a crest. Cut silk, pin the hem, wrap it all in fresh garments from places you’ve never been before, brush the dust up from the years gone by, your study making waves in the air with fabrics of new design.
Thanks for sharing your story with us Laurence. So, let’s start at the beginning, and we can move on from there.
I first fell in love with film when I was a boy, I imagined myself within these great adventures unfolding, and the household I grew up in, was full of art and creation, my mother is an artist, and my father was an art critic championing British Romanticism, that sense of the hopeless Romantic has never left me.
Scratched up days peddling on the pavement of possibilities, rocks kick up my tires, philosophers bless my ears as I bash down the new world beneath my feet along palm tree paths towards that augury that touched me as me a boy, I remember my cicerones of man.Read More
Here’s what you think you know about me, like I comply to that heavy weighted barb you rip across my flesh with delight. Here I am in front of you, I look with sullen eyes you see me proud, touched by the hands of those elect gentry. I speak, you hear commands & in my knowing phrases of the passages in deafening defeat rinse, repeat those bears of dark minds aren’t we all blind?Read More
Bashed up kindle washed up by the shores the savage seas swill its froth building in bubbles like the hot boiling temperatures surround her body. The tide flowing in and out with her breathe. Heavy breathing there it is all this under the bright light of the moon.Read More
Leda looked into the pond,
Surveyed her wan features,
Pulled her blonde hair back from her face,
When the feathered creature,
Rising from the water,
Raced with passion to her side,
She unlaced her silky clothes,
Lay stretched in womanly abandon,
Among the rushes on the bank,
Radiation music call me poet in the dark green sea, making harmony of the columns of my heart, weave toxic sweetness over me. Lick me with cherry melodies of heat and passionate ruptures in the landscape of spilled wisdom.Read More
They bring prophecy in waves of mankind. I’ll brush down the wind tunnels of golden birch bark pieces looted and completed. Now’s the time to seize the time, our time, your time, desire fed fat paltry peaches chicken coups and joyous roars in the minefields of hungry dogs.Read More
Rambunctious dream child of deadly fantasies, subject to all the beautiful suffering nightmares of long forgotten heroes and hungry whippets speeding down tangled passages of imagination. This isn’t what I thought it would be, there’s tremendous creatures here, they talk to me with so much mystic wisdom, how do they know it all to be deadly dreams untrue.Read More
How did you know I was here? You heard those whispers in the dark, you spoke to me with intensity and challenged excaliber to raise above the armies of my heart. It wasn’t enough to fight until many nights passed with clarity and home felt warmer.Read More
In light of the recent Gainsborough exhibition at The National Portrait Gallery, I looked back at one of my father’s essays on the subject. This one first published in 1980 goes into the historic feuds and repercussions of this work that was causing rifts within the art world and British society throughout the last centuryRead More
The latest Edward Burne-Jones exhibition at the TATE reminded me of my father’s review of The Last Romantics exhibition in the 90s, at the start of the Pre-Raphaelite revival of which he was a leading voice.Read More