You see a sharply-dressed young man, a dead ringer for that guy who wrote "Juno." Suddenly, he's running bits of newspaper through a 16mm projector while simultaneously lighting the machine on fire, all while projecting the great teeming mess onto the facade of a T(sar)-Mobile retail store. No, silly, that's not Mo Rocca -- it's Percy Stankowski. Percy's filmmaking expertise and reputation as a chronic envelope-pusher has made him a staple here at the Korner, and it's time we took a look at the origin of such a fascinating Kreationist.
Percy was born in Caldwell, ID, to Curtis and Mabel, whose love for primetime public-access television would serve as the inadvertent spark for young Percy's forays into image-making. It was not long before Percy had commandeered the family's Hi-8 videocamera, deftly experimenting with the limits of the seventh art. At one point Percy poured water into the cassette chamber in what, despite his parents' statements otherwise, was no doubt a pointed commentary on the inherent contradiction between film's perceived fluidity and actual stasis.
In his teenage years, Percy linked up with fellow Kreationist visionary, Chris Peebles, and that, he says, was when "shit really began to pop off." The two teamed up for several groundbreaking happenings, combining spoken word, moving image, and the occasional wayward chicken in ways that stunned audiences and quickly garnered the attention of the larger Kreation movement.
Though he may be three months short of twenty-four, Percy Stankowski has managed in his short life to pack quite the Kreationist wallop, and it is this honesty that he seeks to bring to all current and future endeavors. When asked how Percy manages such a seemingly hectic life, Percy replies succinctly, "the dude abides. Meaning me. When I say 'dude,' I mean me. Did you get that reference?"
Still from "March of the Pagans," Percy Stankowski