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motor coach charter and aluminum foil. She carried a handbag made out of shopping bags, with a chain strap of pull tabs and garden string.artists out of placeThe 48 Hour Film Project came storming through Austin for the sixth time last month, leaving in its wake more than a hundred movie makers, aspiring movie makers, and dilettantes who had forsaken the comforts of both their creative approaches and their soft pillows to find out whether they had it in them to write, shoot, and edit a short film in the span of a single weekend.A few of those dilettantes would be dilettantes because I asked them to be dilettantes. Figuring there might be something illuminating in watching a group of nonfilmmakers plumb the depths of an unfamilar medium amid unfavorable conditions and having nothing better to do I decided to assemble a team of my own.The guidelines I set for this team were simple enough. Each member would be an established artist living in Austin who had little or no experience making films. Each would be assigned a role in the making of the film that related in some way to his or her particular abilities: A photographer might be the cinematographer, say, or a dancer might be chosen to be an actor. Then, on Friday, June 22, they would all gather together, and I would sit back and observe while they swallowed his or her pride and fear and well watered aesthetic prejudices (not to mention lingering exhaustion) and bent their skills to the collaborative task of making a movie.Miraculously, nine people agreed to take part. There was no pay involved and no other material incentive. In fact, just the