From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

“GQ” magazine?

Clearly, this is an important photoshoot.

Brad Renfro and James Franco didn't even get such an opportunity, or rather, it was difficult for them to even get close to such an opportunity.

Now, Anson is winning the first interview opportunity of his acting career at “GQ” —

Although it's as a model.

Originally, when Darren told Anson that there would be a magazine interview, he thought it would be a photoshoot for a third-tier or regional magazine, after all, with the summer season approaching, the value of promotional slots would increase; but that was fine, it would be a good opportunity for him to adapt to the style of still photography.

But it turned out to be “GQ” right off the bat?

This is simply…

Amazing!

Anson hasn't signed with an agent yet. The agents in the actors' union aren't responsible for business outside of signing, and Anson got the interview opportunity in the name of “Friends”, so David Crane came forward, and his assistant Frank assisted “GQ” and Anson in completing the communication and scheduling.

Pier 39 Studio.

Located on Melrose Avenue, a dilapidated warehouse full of hippie style, the exterior walls are covered with graffiti by many artists, and it has hosted art exhibitions and painting exhibitions.

Anson knows so much about it because Pier 39 Studio is not far from their residence, a maximum of six or seven minutes on foot.

Driving is obviously unnecessary, as finding a parking space might take more than ten minutes.

Thus.

Anson chose a skateboard, riding with the wind, and before long, the abandoned warehouse came into view.

According to the original owner's memory, this should be Pier 39, but Anson is here for the first time, looking at the ruins covered with graffiti and weeds, and is a little unsure. If this is the studio, then he should be glad that he didn't drive, because there is no parking lot at all.

Roughly assessing—

Black T-shirt, black jeans, with a buzz cut, puffing out smoke, unable to see his facial features clearly, but able to see black nail polish smeared on the fingers holding the cigarette, a big hole in his jeans, his knee sticking out from the opening, as if he had just run out of the “Death Note” set.

Anson was a little unsure if this was a homeless person, but still raised his voice to ask.

“Hey, good morning, is this Pier 39 Studio?”

Bruce didn't answer.

Puff.

Taking another deep drag of the cigarette, carefully looking at the figure in front of him:

White T-shirt, solid color in the front and graffiti on the back; blue denim shorts, white socks with dark blue skate shoes, no extra accessories on his body, golden brown slightly curly short hair fluttering freely in the breeze, bathed in the golden sunlight, full of youthful vitality.

Involuntarily, a kind of professional habit.

Bruce held the cigarette in his mouth, raised his hands, and formed a viewfinder with the thumbs and forefingers of both hands, using his brain as film, and began to compose.

Click.

Pressing the shutter in his mind, a trickle of water actually emerged in the arid and cracked desert of his brain. In an instant, spring returned to the earth, and his thoughts began to operate again.

Hoo.

Exhaling the smoke for a long time, blocking his vision again, the composition ratio in the viewfinder is constantly changing, and in a blink of an eye, the sea has changed in his mind.

This scene is different from what he imagined, completely different.

To be precise, it is far from the Hollywood image that Bruce is familiar with. He tried to search his brain memory to find a sample for comparison.

But…

James Dean?

No.

Still different.

Then.

Bruce finally opened his mouth, “So, you are Anson Wood?”

Anson's eyebrows raised slightly, inexplicably recalling the scene of “If I call you ‘Sun Wukong’, dare you answer?”, which was a bit absurd, simply inexplicable, but precisely because of this absurdity, a sense of joy overflowed, which made the smile on Anson's mouth also rise, but he didn't respond directly, but asked back.

“Who is asking?”

Bruce took several deep puffs of the cigarette again in succession, the cigarette butt burned quickly, and then he threw the cigarette butt away casually and turned to walk towards the studio door.

Leaving a back view.

It seems that this is Pier 39 Studio.

Tap.

His feet landed, and with a smooth step, the skateboard had already fallen into his palm. Anson strode forward and entered the abandoned warehouse in front of him.

Tall, spacious.

This is the first impression upon entering the warehouse. The height of more than two floors makes the entire space seem deep. The exposed pipes and mottled brick walls have no decoration, but unexpectedly have a kind of post-modern ruin texture. It seems dilapidated and barren, but it is not as dilapidated as imagined, and it feels a bit special.

From top to bottom, when the line of sight moves from the empty vastness above to the bottom, you can see a completely different scene of busyness and noise.

Curtains. Lights. Camera. Long table. Gantry. More lights. And people.

Coming and going, crisscrossing.

Order in chaos.

Everyone is busy, their feet barely touching the ground, and the air is filled with a kind of urgent and busy atmosphere, and the line of sight can't keep up at all.

The emptiness of the upper layer forms a sharp contrast with the surging of the lower layer.

A smiling face greets him, a white shirt with a gray suit, a head of long red hair tied into a high ponytail, revealing a bit of competence, and a touch of dark red lipstick seems a bit calm, but absolutely no one will miss the pair of ten-centimeter burgundy high heels, stealing all the attention.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Every step can feel the collision between the heel and the ground, dust flying, as if Hansel and Gretel left breadcrumbs along the way.

“Good morning, Anson, I'm Gretel.”

Gretel Winfield gave a polite smile and extended her right hand.

Anson: ???

Gretel noticed the surprise and smile in Anson's eyes, and was puzzled, “What's wrong?”

Anson didn't hide it, the corners of his mouth raised slightly, “I noticed your high heels, leaving marks all the way, like breadcrumbs.”

Gretel also immediately reacted, and chuckled, “Because of the name, since I was studying, many people have made jokes. I have really heard many kinds of jokes, but I have to say, this is the first time, should I be glad that I chose high heels today?”

Anson looked serious, “The person who should be glad is me.”

Gretel was puzzled.

Anson, “Otherwise, I might become a greasy man who ‘thinks he is humorous but is actually just repeating a joke that others have said a thousand and one times and is not interesting at all’, and then you have to give an awkward but polite smile to complete the polite greetings, which is a terrible start.”

“God, I'm really glad I dodged a bullet.”

Actually…there is such a way to open it.

Gretel was slightly stunned, and before she realized it, a smile had already climbed up her eyebrows, her entire face completely bloomed, and her mood instantly brightened.

However, before Gretel could continue to speak, the call of the man in the black T-shirt just now came from behind her—that is, in front of Anson.

“Gretel, now is not the time to flirt, change clothes, makeup, styling, tick-tock, we don't have all day to relax here.”

Eighth update.