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Robyn Forest meets the men behind TV's most defiant stepchild.

When is the last time that a television program really shocked you? Made you angry? Or, God forbid, made you think? If your answer is "the season finale of Melrose Place," full of bald pyromaniac divorcees and blondes fumbling through prop sheet infidelities, then stop reading now. But if you're coming up blank and yearning for a boob tube challenge, then wipe the drool off your chin, because there is a program out there for you - Guttervision.

This is a show where you can see everything from live footage of a sex change operation (that's right - say good-bye to Mr. Happy) to a conversation with the band Crash Worship, during which all of the members are tripping on acid. Guttervision highlights underground culture in all of its glory, and a typical segment will contain videos that MTV won't play - from groups like The Cramps, Dead Can Dance, and Morphine. The show also spotlights artists with interviews, spoken word, and animation segments, along with an occasional bit of sociopolitical soapboxing.

Slotted at 11 p.m. on Sunday in Los Angeles (and nationally on Public Access), the show airs right as the 12 hour marathon of backwoods evangelists expounding upon keeping the Holy Day holy has come to a sputtering, inconclusive end. Bibles shut tight, it's time for the only honest 30 minutes of TV that you'll get in a week. With a flair for consistency, the program even begins with its own version of "Evangelistic Gas," featuring footage from the recently indicted Richard Tilton - with huge gastrointestinal outbursts played over his sermon. In the spirit of Guerrila programming, Frank Czajka and Cameron C. Smith unsympathetically conspire against commercial television with weekly explorations of sundry subcultures. "Guttervision is for people who are bored with mainstream TV that no longer reflects their interests, their lifestyle, intelligence, and artistic sensibilities," says Frank. With no format, no host, no rating system, and no advertisers to appease, everything is fair game and most of it pushes the limit. "We are liberators," Cameron explains. "To free the mind and awaken the brain-dead is our mission." After meeting two years earlier at a coffee house poetry reading, Cameron and Frank began putting shows together, combining stock footage that Cameron had already shot for himself with Frank's vision and ingenuity at making things happen. "He is more art and contextuality and I'm more commercial, more business, more dollars and cents," Frank explains from his lounqing position on the Gutter office's only couch. The common understanding of what TV is not providing the public with - and their invested belief that culture is the last salvation for society - is where the similarities end for these partners. Frank plays with his Harley-reminiscent mane of red curls and tries to come up with a good analogy, "He's a little bit country and I'm a little bit rock & roll," he says laughing, looking at Cameron for a contribution. In contrast, Cameron is sitting in silence, a portrait of the misunderstood art student. Under the shade of his baseball cap, he silently puts together a good explanation of their relationship. "Basically he likes to play it safe and I like to really push things. I make the show and he helps make it happen. I find the artists, shoot the footage, direct it, and put it together." It is actually the "putting together of the show" that's helped to entice viewers into watching and set the program apart from other public programs. "Guttervision doesn't look like other cable access programs with two chairs, a fake plan, and flourescent lighting," explains Cameron. The show comes off as being very professional with its segment skipping and conceptual quick cut style; along with videos and industrial music played during the openings--in-between moments it winds up looking very, dare I say, MTV-ish. All tragic analogies aside, it's that style which bonds together all of the fragmented sections of the show and which have gotten the content recognized and appreciated. All the recent press accolades aside, the partners' biggest honor so far has been the introduction of the first 22 segments of their show into the esteemed UCLA Film and Television Archive. The back-patting Guttervision has received so far seems to have proven Frank's assessment that, "TV is a giant Valium," and Cameron's feeling that "the obscure is not really obscure anymore--only in the commercially-accessible version of reality."

Frank and Cameron began to receive response from viewers from the moment their first show aired - whether it be "stiff collar" types complaining about the shocking segment on body fetishist Ron Athey or messages from all over the country asking to be tuned in. Fans have even begun to send their own contributions to the show, like the recently featured short, "The Operation," an award winning, sexually explicit film shot entirely on Infra Red. And contributions have also come in more bizarre forms - like a videotape sent in by a group of Texans who have documented their sexual prowess with barnyard animals - 101 different ways to conquer the beast, filmed for the lambs' pleasure and ours.

The level of participation proves Frank's theory "everyone is a voyeur," and so with the fuel of crowd reaction behind them, Frank and Cameron continue to push the envelope. As Cameron puts it, "The world isn't getting any softer so why should we?" Segments like the lobotomy scene from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, and performance art done in a Denny's bathroom--where two grown naked men hit each other repeatedly with dead fish--drive home the point that Guttervision isn't trying to please anyone. Even if that means the creators will float forever sponsor-less, in the hell of double existence, working Joe jobs by day and putting a show together at night. "We are not going to compromise and so if it takes time then it takes time," says Cameron. Yet the possibility of opening a previously un-approached commercial market is there and Frank sees it clearly: "I'd like to be the first program sponsored by a dildo company or by convict jeans made by prisoners." Finding commercial buyers within their realm of access television might just be the first step for Guttervision towards a bigger, more highly publicized future on say, a global satellite channel. With new segments presently being made, and an ear to the ground for new material, the future for Guttervision looks good.

"Real life will always be more interesting," says Frank. "We will never run out of information." Guttervision plans on digging even deeper with bigger subjects to spotlight and heavier interviews with the people whoa re currently at work shaping the counterculture, like Noam Chomsky.

"It seems like nobody is taking responsibility for anything anymore. It's like society has become, 'What's hot on Extra this week?' These stars, these people--they are pushing a product. There is no substance there. After you've watched it what have you really learned?" questioning a previously untouched aspect of entertainment, Guttervision is in its own quirky, twisted way, trying to put the power available in the medium of television to good use. As Frank puts it, "We have no limitations: surgeon, politician, punker. If they're doing something interesting, they should be on Guttervision."