Tim Buttner - Multi-Media Expert

Tim is a Multi-Media Expert with skills that span various forms of media. Tim began writing screenplays before he was twelve, completing his first feature-length screenplay at sixteen. He began filming in high school and at seventeen gained experience interning at Edgewood Studios on the set of Zombie Town. Tim continued to study film at Drexel University, establishing himself in the Stereoscopic 3D revolution after attending workshops in New York City with Florian Maier on Stereoscopic Film Production. After graduating from Drexel's Film & Video Program with a Bachelor of Science, and with a Screenwriting & Playwriting Minor, Tim worked for Digital Revolution Studios under Craig Tanner and further worked in stereoscopic 3D. While at Drexel Tim co-founded a company (One Forest Films) with high school friends and for several years helped build the company as CTO, and Chief Web Designer. Tim has been a contributing writer for MarketSaw, and as well selected as a Beta Tester for Blackmagic Design on the URSA Mini 4.6K camera.




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Tim was also a contributing writer to MarketSaw, a 3D blog. Check it out: www.marketsaw.com



Music Videos

Modeling Videos

Short Films

Web Series

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—Favorite Quotes—

"Cinematography, a military art. Prepare a film like a battle." — Robert Bresson

"'Nobody's perfect' is the line that most sums up my work. There is no comedy, no drama about perfect people." — Billy Wilder

"Structure depends on strategy: strategy is determined according to events." — Cao Cao, from Sun Tzu's The Art of War

"I shall hang my 'lecturing' on the same peg with my other failures and follies. It must be a long peg and a strong peg to hold them all." — George Perkins Marsh

"Will the science of the human heart, around which all contemporary art is based, exhaust so completely the writer's powers of imagination that in future the only novels that are written will be chronicles of various events?" — Giovanni Verga

"Train easy, fight hard… and die.
 Train hard, fight easy… and win." — Unknown


—Personal Quotes—

"Movies are not watched. They are an encounter with a life's experience not your own."

"I'm well trained in the art of turning shit to gold."

"'My favorite movies are the ones inside my head."

Selected Screenplays by Tim Butt 2

The Fallen Protégé  Silent Moon Open Book

Poetry by Tim Butt 2

Shape Poem - Alfred Hitchock: The Master of Cinema

Oisín the Pub Owner

A pub owner who goes by Oisín
And lodges in lighthouse on ocean,
Hears the Banshee call
And starts a bar brawl,
Says strong drink is the land's best potion.

Timothy Peter Buttner

Timothy Peter Buttner.
Ambitious with a purpose,
Virtuoso of vision,
Imagination guru,
Stereoscopic features,
Timothy Peter Buttner.

Timothy Peter Buttner.
Ruggedly handsome stature,
Formidable, tenacious,
Shrewd, undeniably so.
Small yet large. Bolder nature.
Experience his movies,
Timothy Peter Buttner

Majestic Monster

Majestic monster flying through the waves
you fill me with wonder and bewilderment.
Your razor sharp teeth are perfect.
Lose one and,
another replaces it.
Your speed is unmatched,
and your agility is breathtaking.
Slowed down
your attack is a dance.
The perfect killer.
Older than any other,
your species goes back
to a time lost in fossils.
One of you can survive
in salt or fresh water.
Myths and legends
tell of greater monsters
laying in the seas darkest regions.
Your lineage is kingly.
You are the great hunter of the ocean.
You are a shark.


The life clock,
it ticks on and on, until
it reaches its end.
From your birth to your death,
it traces every stage of your life.

Why do we hold so strongly onto our minute,
little pet peeves?
If we realize that death is near,
why are we still chafed by unrestrained burping,
or people who fail to clean up after themselves?

What happens when the clock doesn’t complete its cycle,
or it cycles faster than that of everyone else.
Does this mean that you were meant to die at this time
or is it just a fluke in the big program?
Should this vex me?

In the high recesses of the Earth,
the altitude is as difficult to bear,
as the air is to breathe.
Who knows what polluted toxins I might be consuming,
the thought is too agonizing to think of.

What of the idea of a twelve-hour clock?
Or a twenty-four hour clock?
Which is it?
This thought is distressing to think of.
Why not a calendar?

I was once to have a sister,
at one time in my short life.
She died at birth though.
Her name was to be Elizabeth.
She escaped the intolerable gifts of life.

Why must we be so concerned to save life,
when death is so close to our doorstep?
Is there any tiny thing for us to do,
that would prolong our measly lives?
Do we want to extend our existence?

Someday, I ask that you find me,
when you have answered these questions.
I beg of you to tell me the answers,
and that unthinkable truth:
We all must die someday.


Forever gone, the bright light from our stars,
which rise or fall has always been our guide.
So under darkness take cover and hide.
Evil dark creatures bring on us the wars.

Why should we suffer from their tyranny?
In light their methods come across quite cruel.
Wait till they come across my friend gunny
he packs a gun and fights the meanest duel.

The Queen is deadly, so beware her tricks
they fly at you from blind sides. So if you
lose ground you'll end up in the river Styx
and there will be no time to bid adieu.

The end is almost near, so have no fear.
All the human race needs to persevere.


They came with massive ships of gilded pride
with sticks that blew out light and noise that hurt
in fame that grew until it spread worldwide.

With whom do you put blame but with the tide
that should have sunk or raised wind to divert.
They came with massive ships of gilded pride.

And this is what transpired when worlds collide.
Enemies brought despondent death dessert
in fame that grew until it spread worldwide

Locals urged, but Europeans defied
their warnings which put them on the alert.
They came with massive ships of gilded pride

Historians say Hernán Cortés lied
in claim that natives were hostile and curt
in fame that grew until it spread worldwide

Because of their arrival many died
to lie and rest within their much loved dirt.
They came with massive ships of gilded pride
in fame that grew until it spread worldwide.

Our Education Breeds Morons

Go ahead drop out.
At sixteen you know plenty.
Fuck the rest of the human species,
you're special and don't need to contribute.
Never know the importance of your voice
voting doesn't matter
because the few who don't care about the issues
can't make a difference.

Go ahead don't extend the high school years.
It's not like we're learning more
or developing new techniques and methods.
College costs so much,
so why waste teaching core curriculum
when it should be known before.
The populace is made of money to spend
and students want to fail
because they have no interest.

Our education breeds morons.
And it's the morons who bring down society.
It's fine.
Why evolve?
Fucking destroy the Earth!

Go ahead let colleges screw students.
Care only about money,
because why should the student's needs matter?
Make the education expensive.
Make it disorganized.
Let there be disrespect.
Let the students walk out.
Because it's cool.

Go ahead ignore the widening gap
that increases daily between the
intelligent and the
Ask more and receive more.
Don't cater to the dumb.
Instead force them to improve.

Our education breeds morons.
And it's the morons who bring down society.
It's fine.
Why evolve?
Fucking destroy the Earth!

Short Stories by Tim Butt 2

From the Journal of the Unknown Hermit

Written February 11, 2013

The days stretch on in the cold and barren winter. Very little life exists, and it makes for difficult hunting. The occasional buck, or moose, provides only a few days worth.


No One Believed Her

Written September 30, 2009

No one believed her. And why should they have? They called her mad after the incident. Or, at least, they called it an incident despite no one bearing witness. Maybe it's best to start before then.


Lonely Morning

Written October 7, 2009

Gabrielle raised her silky arm above the water and back down, lifting the other above. Her swim was an elegant dance; a ballet performed in the early morning when the mist still crept off the silvery surface of the pond. She was bare in the cool water just as nature intended all mammals of the forest. She could see the silhouettes of the antelope grazing on the hill not far from the pond. The sun slowly crept up from behind that hill. Ducks and geese played in the water opposite Gabrielle, and she dove under when they dove. When she reemerged her curly black hair was as straight as a horses tail, and it hung off her perfect neckline down to her shoulders to float in the water with her. She swam to the pond's edge.


Kiss of Death

Written October 6, 2009

Even in this light I could see that my thumb was swelling purple. I glanced at Margaret, who held a broken piece of wood in one hand. It hung there, swaying back and forth. It's splinters frosting by the second. She dropped it to the ground, and took a seat on a chilled piece of meat. Although the room was getting colder with each tick of the clock, her blood must have been boiling like a thousand degree volcano in that moment.


The Fallen Protégé

Latest Draft October 30, 2009

FORWARD: The Fallen Protégé was originally a dream I had in early 2005, and was subsequently written for the 2005 Drexel University 10-Page Screenplay Contest. That script was written in a day due to how late I discovered it, and had very little time before the submission deadline. Nonetheless that script got an honorable mention. Later in the fall, during my senior year of high school, I took a fiction class. I decided to have another go at the story and thus wrote it in short story form.

Thus began a continued process of revisiting the story in both screenplay and short story form. The last rewritten draft of the short story was down for my Creative Writing class in college in the fall of 2009. This is that draft. This draft proved to be the best version of the story and so I took it to the screenplay for that current revision. That screenplay can be read on The Fallen Protégé In Development Page. Below enjoy the short story.

Bland bodies sped past, the pallid faces a blur, and their ghostly arms scraped Val's face and chest as he darted through the crowd's masses. The street was full of them, and they went from building side to building side, and each had an umbrella because it was scheduled to rain again. Thunder struck above, which shook the wet asphalt beneath the mob's feet from the BOOM that echoed between the tall structures. Val plunged deeper into the horde, spoiling a new leather jacket to the force and balding his sneakers against the concrete with each spurt. A light post popped up in front of him, and he diverted into a girl in a red skirt.