The first time I met Chick Strand it was for a lunch date in the hills of Tujunga near her home. She took me to a Mexican restaurant, ordered several rounds of margaritas, flirted outrageously with the waiters and generally had a merry time recounting the early days of avant-garde filmmaking in San Francisco. No matter that she was 70 years old, she could outdrink, outflirt and outtalk people half her age, and she did so with gusto. I went home dizzy with tequila, and with a new understanding of the history of West Coast experimental film. Most people don’t live life at full throttle; Strand does, but with an eye for the... More >>>