106. Small
How we optimize for pleasure and productivity. Paintings for exhibit. Dialing things in for the film.
My tendinitis is slowly retreating after a steroid injection. It has acquired a possessive modifier, as if it were something I own and keep in the house; like a broken dish, or a baleful animal. Recovery is so subtle day to day that progress is noticeable only through a longer lens. Two red points remain where a nurse practitioner had punctured the skin to push a substantial needle through. Twice. The marks look as though they could have been made by a small but determined vampire.
My disability incentivized me to change things in my daily routine. One was to do something about the hard-to-turn steam knob on my espresso machine, which was not only a pain (literally) to use but lessened something that I otherwise looked forward to.
The Breville Barista Express is an unfancy but dependable workhorse, and quite popular. It’s also notorious for spotty workmanship in recent years. When my wrist was healthier the knob was a small annoyance. It only takes a second to turn after all. But it’s something I use every day, first thing in the morning, sometimes again in the afternoon, and I turn it six times per use. Cumulatively, I spend more time with it than with a lot of other things in life.
I decided to replace it with a lever, which wasn’t the quickest thing to do but also not the craziest. Now I’m delighted every time I steam milk. I no longer dread tussling with the knob and my hand doesn’t hurt afterward. I like looking at it. It was unequivocally worth the effort and time.
All this to say: there are bigger problems in life, but exactly: why bother with the small ones if it can be helped? Smallest persistences are often the least tolerable—a tiny shard of glass, a paper cut, that scratchy tag on the inside of a shirt—and their elimination often the most gratifying.
Anyway I would rather save my wrist, and headspace, for other things.
Optimization and pleasure casade. In my opinion they play an outsized role in productivity, and eventually quality of work. I believe that there is no irritation in a routine too small to fix.
In the studio
I’m finishing up paintings for an exhibit and dialing in technical details for my next film. I recently shared a preview of my animated short 엄마 나라 | MOTHER LAND (trailer) with Investors. The film will go online in the next few months for everyone. Today: behind the scenes on both painting and animation.
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It’s been a mad few weeks and I haven’t been able to spend much time outside the studio. I’m depleted! Thankfully it is November (how the f) and I plan to slow down and recharge while the world succumbs to the holiday crush.
Paintings
I’m going to be in a group exhibit called Yaksok (“Promise” in Korean) from November 27th, 2025 to January 17th, 2026 in California.
The artist statement for my piece, Message · 통신:
A promise is an oath made and fulfilled by a promiser to a promisee. This presents as a giver/receiver dynamic in which the promiser is active, the promisee passive. But are things as unambiguous as they appear? What role does desire, hope, and prophesy play in fulfilment? Might a promise originate in the promisee, the one to whom it returns?
Message · 통신 is a hanging installation of acrylic on hanji (Korean mulberry paper). Three panels whose arrangement is reminiscent of byeongpungs (병풍, traditional Korean folding screens depicting symbolic images with auspicious meaning) show a supplicant sending a signal; a consciousness hovering over; a god hand listening. Hanji’s hardy materiality is a metaphor for resilience; white paper and hardware offer a canvas for otherworldly visions; suspension allows the panels to stir and sway with the movement of proximate spirits. The fragility of the materials speaks to the tenuous nature of such dialogue.
I’ve never worked on a sculptural piece before so it was a long process of (new) problem-solving. I iterated on the concept through three prototypes over many weeks; an abridged summary, below.
I started out with sketches before moving on to acrylic on 14x54” strips of hanji. I tested various formations, materials, and methods for mounting:
Ultimately I decided to go with thicker pvc pipes up top and slightly smaller ones on the bottom. I also landed on a formation that emulates panels on a traditional Korean decorative folding screen, or byeongpung (병풍):
The panels will be just over a few feet off the ground and hang fairly close together:
After the first iteration I revised the composition to span three panels instead of two:
I designed and put together some pipe-sleeves (this was a huge pain):
Painting was the most fun but it took the least time. I used practice sheets which aren’t exactly suited for suspension, but it’s where things led so I went with it:
I ironed the paper before mounting. I also steam-ironed after mounting but didn’t have a chance to document that. Next time I might look into pre-stretching (thicker) hanji before painting on it:
By the way, I got this tiny table saw and it is everything. I can’t believe how much it can do! I used it to machine and sand my pvc pipes, but it can handle a lot more.
While I loved the kinetics of single-string suspension, the movement was too unpredictable and wild. I ended up going with double-string which allows the panels to move while maintaining consistent relationships with peer panels:
Enfin:
There was something uncanny about producing this piece, as though it came in and through me. I look at it and think: did I make that, where did it come from.
Off it goes to Los Angeles. More details soon.
Animation
I’m back on the film next week; I’ll be brief on it for now.
A lot of lessons and questions came out of finishing my primer1 and I’ve been dialing things in since. Remaining biggies are lighting and scale.
I tackled lighting first.
Filming with natural light was causing flicker, so I needed to create a more controlled environment for my downshooting setup. So I cobbled together a mini dark room out of cardboard:
These are from test shots at different times of the day, in combination with different kinds of ambient/artificial light:
It’s been working great:
Lighting is now in a good place.
In parallel I’ve been trying to put in hours to improve dexterity and comfort with this method of animating, particularly in terms of scaling shots and moving the camera around:
Next, I need to develop opinions on resolution, detail, and—potentially—color.
Provisions
Stuff to sustain, nourish, inspire.
Carottes Malika is one of most delightful things to eat, and quite elegant. Simply:
Toss carrot strips with some sesame oil (this is KEY), olive oil, balsamic, and ACV.
Dress with coriander leaves.
Sprinkle with chili pepper flakes and sesame seeds.
Salt and pepper, bien sûr.
Life isn’t fair. “In this rare interview, renowned poet and essayist Anne Carson, known for her unorthodox blending of genres and forms, reflects on her approach to writing and touches on themes of memory, autofiction, and her recent diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease.”
Weapons is now streaming on HBO. Halloween might be over but oh my god. Mysterious, unsettling, creepy. Strangely moving. too.
Katabasis. Kuang uses the word “purchase” a lot. Find purchase. Make purchase. The writing felt relatively lazy and uneven. Let’s be real, this is a beach read; I preferred her more literary, tighter Babel. Still, I’m a sucker for beautiful last sentences and appreciated the final nod to Dante. Also, the woman is not even 30 and she’s on her one millionth novel. You have to admit, you’re impressed.
Confetti. You can now see Amanda Bonaiuto’s film online! This experimental animated short has inspired me out of many creative ruts.
In closing, details
I have a little brass dish that fits in the palm of my hand. It has unusual heft for such a tiny thing. I admire its brushed surface, its finely-honed simplicity. It seems surprisingly singular; I’ve looked for another like it and have come up empty-handed.
Friends know that I’m partial to small objects, especially if they’re made out of ceramic, glass, or metal. All the better if their silhouette is minimal: dessert plates with barely a lip. Salt spoons. Lilliputian jars for jam, eyes of newt.
I don’t underestimate the pernicious power of trivialities (small baddies can metastasize, or skewer), but I also believe that the power of small things can and do work in the other direction.
In my home studio, I eventually iterate on every detail, editing and optimizing in a leisurely, unending cycle. Consequent ease of use leads to beauty in the hand as well as for the eye. The experience feels like being in a relationship with a living thing, the space evolving with me.
Routine pleasure leads to exponential restfulness. That in turns leads to freedom and expansiveness in which making things itself becomes a greater pleasure.
For me, anyway.
Until next time.