Tumble Dry
New York City, New York | Film Short
Drama
In 1997, barely nine months sober, I shot a film, and it ended up in a drawer for 29 years. I am not waiting any longer. New York in the late 90s was a different city — this film is what it looked like before we all got hurt, got scared, and got priced out of the neighborhood.
Tumble Dry
New York City, New York | Film Short
Drama
1 Campaigns | New York, United States
11 supporters | followers
Enter the amount you would like to pledge
$1,540
Goal: $8,400 for post-production
In 1997, barely nine months sober, I shot a film, and it ended up in a drawer for 29 years. I am not waiting any longer. New York in the late 90s was a different city — this film is what it looked like before we all got hurt, got scared, and got priced out of the neighborhood.
- The Story
- Wishlist
- Updates
- The Team
- Community
Mission Statement
The Story
The Film
Tumble Dry is a 19-minute, 16mm black and white narrative short. One night. One room. A co-op laundromat on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, 1997.
Patrick Danaher, a grip in his late twenties, puts his clothes in the dryer and waits. Around him: three older Jewish women at the folding table, his roommate Jonathan working on his novel, a woman reading Carver, friends heading out for the night, a Bahamian caregiver and a voiceless old man, and then — a homeless kid from Ave A who sneaks in out of the cold.
The dryer counts down. Conversations happen. Nothing is resolved, but something shifts.

We shot on 16mm black-and-white. It worked for the cost and the grammar.
The grain holds the stillness. The shallow depth of field keeps the world soft around Patrick until he can no longer afford to hide in the blur. The camera stays on his face while the conversation happens around him; the meaning lives in the gap between sound and image.
This is a film about stillness. Long takes. Invisible cuts. A single dolly shot that earns every inch of track. We didn't move the camera unless the story demanded it — and when it finally moves, you feel it.
Stillness is not a problem to be solved. It's the point. A film about waiting has to be willing to wait.

The Place
The Lower East Side in that footage no longer exists.
What you see on screen is a neighborhood in its last years before the money arrived — the chipped paint under the new paint, the rents going up, a room full of people who knew each other's names and shared a laundry room and had nowhere better to be on a Tuesday night.
We didn't set out to make a historical document. But that's what it became. A co-op laundromat on the corner of Grand St. & Lewis, 1997. The building is still there. The neighborhood is not.
New York in the late 90s was a different city. We need to remember what we were before we all got hurt, got scared, and got priced out of the neighborhood.
The Drawer
In 1997, I finished shooting and didn't have the money to finish the edit. Two editors took the project on and walked away — both working for free, I couldn't blame them. Life kept moving.
But if I'm honest, it wasn't just money. When you give a script to actors, it becomes collaborative, and I wasn't sure what it had become. I needed time to understand what they'd given me.
I was nine months sober when we shot this. Getting sober changes your relationships — it doesn't end them, but it means working at them differently. That isn't always easy. I spent the next three decades building other people's shots while mine sat in a drawer. You put something away to keep from tripping over it. Every time you open the drawer you see it. Later kept coming. The universe has a way of telling you when it's time. It's time.

Why Now
We have roughly 90 minutes of digitized, synced 16mm footage. We have a paid editor in Minneapolis actively building the rough assembly. We have fiscal sponsorship through Fractured Atlas. The infrastructure is in place. What we need is finishing funds.
Every dollar raised goes toward completing the edit, mixing the sound, and getting this film to the festivals and audiences it was always meant to find — Tribeca, SXSW, Clermont-Ferrand, the short film circuit that this film was built for.
This isn't a film being made. It's a film being finished. The work is done. The people who made it went on to become who they became. The neighborhood is gone. The moment is now.
The dryer has buzzed.

Wishlist
Use the WishList to Pledge cash and Loan items - or - Make a pledge by selecting an Incentive directly.
Sound Design & Final Mix
Costs $2,700
Bringing the laundromat back to life — the machines, the voices, the silence between them. Professional sound design and final mix.
Dialogue Cleanup / ADR
Costs $500
29-year-old 16mm dialogue recorded on location. Light cleanup to make every word land the way it was meant to
Color Correction
Costs $1,200
Black and white 16mm shot in 1997. Color correction to honor the grain, the stillness, and the grammar of the original footage.
Online / Mastering
Costs $800
Final delivery in ProRes and DCP — getting Tumble Dry festival-ready and into the world.
Original Score / Licensing
Costs $750
Music that holds the stillness without breaking it. Original score or licensed tracks to complete the film's emotional language.
Festival Submissions
Costs $1,000
Tribeca, SXSW, Palm Springs ShortFest, BAMcinemaFest, NewFest, DOC NYC, Hamptons International — The fees add up.
Editor
Costs $1,450
Jay Ness is cutting Tumble Dry in Minneapolis. This covers a portion of his fee. Additional funding sought through the Roy W. Dean Grant
About This Team

DP Steve Ramsey lining up a shot with Stand in Mitch Brody
1997, we didn’t know who we would become.
We knew what we were doing. We shot 11 actors, a 19-minute story, on 16mm black and white film, in four 8-hour nights — including load-in and load-out.
Steve Ramsey was our DP. He went on to become one of the biggest Gaffers in New York on The Bride, Joker, West Side Story, and other Spielberg films.
Glen Weinstein was our Key Grip. He’s now Shop Steward at Large for IATSE Local 52.
Alessandra Filesi, our Colombian-Italian production designer and RISD graduate, is now making jewelry in Italy.
My old roommate Mark Weiser recorded the sound. He went on to create the highly successful Shake Rattle & Roll Dueling Piano experience.
Michael Rodrick, who played Patrick, went on to Castle Rock and 24.
Brooke Lewis Bellas built a career in film and television.
I’m finishing this film for Mark — he was there at the beginning and deserves to see how it ends.
And for the version of myself who picked up a camera for the first time and didn’t know yet what that would cost — or what it would be worth.
Incentives
- The Story
- Wishlist
- Updates
- The Team
- Community
Mission Statement
The Story
The Film
Tumble Dry is a 19-minute, 16mm black and white narrative short. One night. One room. A co-op laundromat on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, 1997.
Patrick Danaher, a grip in his late twenties, puts his clothes in the dryer and waits. Around him: three older Jewish women at the folding table, his roommate Jonathan working on his novel, a woman reading Carver, friends heading out for the night, a Bahamian caregiver and a voiceless old man, and then — a homeless kid from Ave A who sneaks in out of the cold.
The dryer counts down. Conversations happen. Nothing is resolved, but something shifts.

We shot on 16mm black-and-white. It worked for the cost and the grammar.
The grain holds the stillness. The shallow depth of field keeps the world soft around Patrick until he can no longer afford to hide in the blur. The camera stays on his face while the conversation happens around him; the meaning lives in the gap between sound and image.
This is a film about stillness. Long takes. Invisible cuts. A single dolly shot that earns every inch of track. We didn't move the camera unless the story demanded it — and when it finally moves, you feel it.
Stillness is not a problem to be solved. It's the point. A film about waiting has to be willing to wait.

The Place
The Lower East Side in that footage no longer exists.
What you see on screen is a neighborhood in its last years before the money arrived — the chipped paint under the new paint, the rents going up, a room full of people who knew each other's names and shared a laundry room and had nowhere better to be on a Tuesday night.
We didn't set out to make a historical document. But that's what it became. A co-op laundromat on the corner of Grand St. & Lewis, 1997. The building is still there. The neighborhood is not.
New York in the late 90s was a different city. We need to remember what we were before we all got hurt, got scared, and got priced out of the neighborhood.
The Drawer
In 1997, I finished shooting and didn't have the money to finish the edit. Two editors took the project on and walked away — both working for free, I couldn't blame them. Life kept moving.
But if I'm honest, it wasn't just money. When you give a script to actors, it becomes collaborative, and I wasn't sure what it had become. I needed time to understand what they'd given me.
I was nine months sober when we shot this. Getting sober changes your relationships — it doesn't end them, but it means working at them differently. That isn't always easy. I spent the next three decades building other people's shots while mine sat in a drawer. You put something away to keep from tripping over it. Every time you open the drawer you see it. Later kept coming. The universe has a way of telling you when it's time. It's time.

Why Now
We have roughly 90 minutes of digitized, synced 16mm footage. We have a paid editor in Minneapolis actively building the rough assembly. We have fiscal sponsorship through Fractured Atlas. The infrastructure is in place. What we need is finishing funds.
Every dollar raised goes toward completing the edit, mixing the sound, and getting this film to the festivals and audiences it was always meant to find — Tribeca, SXSW, Clermont-Ferrand, the short film circuit that this film was built for.
This isn't a film being made. It's a film being finished. The work is done. The people who made it went on to become who they became. The neighborhood is gone. The moment is now.
The dryer has buzzed.

Wishlist
Use the WishList to Pledge cash and Loan items - or - Make a pledge by selecting an Incentive directly.
Sound Design & Final Mix
Costs $2,700
Bringing the laundromat back to life — the machines, the voices, the silence between them. Professional sound design and final mix.
Dialogue Cleanup / ADR
Costs $500
29-year-old 16mm dialogue recorded on location. Light cleanup to make every word land the way it was meant to
Color Correction
Costs $1,200
Black and white 16mm shot in 1997. Color correction to honor the grain, the stillness, and the grammar of the original footage.
Online / Mastering
Costs $800
Final delivery in ProRes and DCP — getting Tumble Dry festival-ready and into the world.
Original Score / Licensing
Costs $750
Music that holds the stillness without breaking it. Original score or licensed tracks to complete the film's emotional language.
Festival Submissions
Costs $1,000
Tribeca, SXSW, Palm Springs ShortFest, BAMcinemaFest, NewFest, DOC NYC, Hamptons International — The fees add up.
Editor
Costs $1,450
Jay Ness is cutting Tumble Dry in Minneapolis. This covers a portion of his fee. Additional funding sought through the Roy W. Dean Grant
About This Team

DP Steve Ramsey lining up a shot with Stand in Mitch Brody
1997, we didn’t know who we would become.
We knew what we were doing. We shot 11 actors, a 19-minute story, on 16mm black and white film, in four 8-hour nights — including load-in and load-out.
Steve Ramsey was our DP. He went on to become one of the biggest Gaffers in New York on The Bride, Joker, West Side Story, and other Spielberg films.
Glen Weinstein was our Key Grip. He’s now Shop Steward at Large for IATSE Local 52.
Alessandra Filesi, our Colombian-Italian production designer and RISD graduate, is now making jewelry in Italy.
My old roommate Mark Weiser recorded the sound. He went on to create the highly successful Shake Rattle & Roll Dueling Piano experience.
Michael Rodrick, who played Patrick, went on to Castle Rock and 24.
Brooke Lewis Bellas built a career in film and television.
I’m finishing this film for Mark — he was there at the beginning and deserves to see how it ends.
And for the version of myself who picked up a camera for the first time and didn’t know yet what that would cost — or what it would be worth.