The night before this film we had a hookah gathering upstate in the People’s Republic of Katskill. Gathered together a few select members of the Schwerpunkt society, some gallery owners, and the household cat. We engaged in some old tyme Sheesha and gin and tonics and made merry until the early hours of the morning moving from Sheesha to snuff (actual Victorian powered tobacco not slang for naughty expensive nose candy) and finally setting down on various piles of bedding found in the basement hideout. The next day, we awoke to cold, money nailed to a beam in a drunken bet, a omonous e-mail, and an area of the headquarters turned into what one of us called a “small square of Deming Street.” After a hearty breakfast at the only open establishment in Katskill, those of us remaining in the den thought it would be a good idea to go shooting with the 12 gauge. The snow was coming down as we drove, the shotgun fitting none too well in the small compact car. By the time we got to the woods at the sawmill – several hours later in what is usually a 4o minute ride – the snow had turned to rain – what is often called by the Mainstreammedia a “wintery mix.” Nevertheless, we went to the woods to test our a weapon that has remained dormant since early this year. One of us had a moment of despair over that weekend. This is a tribute to that moment.