118. Transit
How we in-between. Scotland, UK, NYC. Vespertine, re-anchored. Knicks in 6! A catch-up issue.
Airports are such strange no man’s lands. Where else is sipping wine at 7am ordinary? Watching someone do just that, I imagined the attitude and motion repeating in airports all over the world just then in unintended but inexorable synchrony.
Shortly after my residency at MacDowell, I left for a writing retreat at Moniack Mhor, Scotland’s National Writing Centre. I passed through Edinburgh on the way to this remote little sanctuary in the Scottish Highlands.
When I wasn’t reading or writing in the Centre’s “hobbit house,” I stared into the fire and walked 3 to 9 miles a day on the moors. It was another world.
Also, there were lambs.
By my last day, I was able to finish a small “Reader Writes” piece that I submitted to The Sun Magazine. The theme? “Returning.”
After Scotland, London—a belated birthday gift to myself.
Despite an unanticipated heat wave, I spent much time outside, some of it with friends I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. I took in the beauty of terrible things, traversed the length of giant parks, and luxuriated—multiple times—in eating Indian food for breakfast.
In galleries I marveled at the persistence of human marks—hundreds of years after their making—their color still vivid and texture still resolute.
I think the last time I traveled alone in Europe was back in 2015. Before that, in college. So much about transit has changed, with an insouciance afforded by digital navigation and an immense volume of options at the ready. I’m different of course too—older, freer, in many more ways anonymous.
I finally returned stateside last week, quickly to be swallowed up. I’d forgotten what summer is like in NYC. The MTA Weekender perhaps said it best:
Happy Friday, and welcome to the season of FOMO! Summer is in full swing, which means there are a bevy of events (some might say too many good things) happening this weekend…
A friend was lauching a solo show in Manhattan within hours of my landing. With the intensity of water undammed, events began to inundate what seems like every slot in my calendar. Also: the Tribeca Film Festival is happening; the Knicks are in the final round of NBA Playoffs; and the World Cup is right around the corner. Literally.
Pacing myself.
In the studio
Every now and again I experience what I call “downloads” (from my subconscious, ancestors, the ether, what have you) where I see a sequence of scenes, as in a dream. This usually happens when I’m about to fall asleep or when, as with this last time, I’m about to get up. I “watch” until the end, inevitably losing some of it in the flow, or try to transcribe right away (losing what’s still coming in).
This one lasted about 20 minutes and I stayed to the end, retaining maybe 80%.
So I’m processing these, and, as I mentioned last time, focusing on “defragmenting Vespertine…[reviewing] sequences I’d animated out of order, [calibrating] process…sequentially re-establishing the film.”
I’d gotten so accustomed to working non-linearly with vignettes for 엄마 나라 | Mother Land that I’d continued in this vein for Vespertine. I’m not sure why; these are very different films. 엄마 나라 | Mother Land is very much about the experience of feeling fragmented and dealing with fragments; this is not the case for Vespertine. The latter is also narrative (however abstractly); the former is not.
Resisting chronology and order could speak to a nature that resents convention or code, but I think the undramatic answer is that it was mainly out of inertia.
At MacDowell, I was sufficiently out of place and time to recognize this, and have since been working on contiguous scenes, more or less in order from the beginning (the primer).
The intention alone has been surprisingly anchoring—surprising not because unexpected, but because (and I know it sounds illogical) it hadn’t occurred to me. In any case I feel much more in the realm of “execution” versus “exploration.”
This is a good thing.
Following is a progression of recent tests (a few from the last issue for continuity).
Initial boil:
Refined curtain transition and keys:
Texture test:
Breaking it down:
Filling it out (with inbetweens):
Where I got to the past week (forgive the flicker and stroke variance):
There’s some friction in getting back to work after a long break. I’m also in physical therapy now twice a week for tendinitis 💪 but tl:dr; I’m back in it.
Provisions
Tribeca Film Festival. Funny coming from a filmmaker perhaps, but you don’t have to go to a screening to enjoy this festival. NYC Happenings agrees: “there are also TV debuts, live podcast recordings, conversations with people like FINNEAS and Jason Bateman, creator-focused programming, and even a free games gallery at Pier 57…” If you are able to make it to screenings though and don’t know where to start, here’s a breakdown by vibe.
The Invisible Kingdom: Reimagining Chronic Illness, a memoir by fellow MacDowell fellow Meghan O’Rourke.
Storyboard guide, hand-drawer’s tool by Sequoia’s Design Partner James Buckhouse, a friend and colleague from my design days at the VC firm.
Cape Fear. Spectacular new tv remake, with Amy Adams and Javier Bardem.
Bleu des Profondeurs, or “blue of the deep [seas].” Name befits this beautiful ink for fountain pens.
Keanu in Hidari! Heard about it on Animation Obsessive of course. I’m here for it 1000%.
In closing, fever
The New York Knicks are in the NBA Finals (if you couldn’t tell from “Knicks in 4!!!!” at every turn here). The City is possessed, and it’s hard even for an agnostic like me to not get swept up in the fever.
Last night was game 3, and I ended up watching the second half at a little French bar down the street. It was almost 10pm and I’d been trying to get my steps in before calling it a day. I’m not exaggerating when I say that, as I walked through Harlem, I passed nary a window without spying the flicker of tv or an orange and blue jersey. A cry of triumph or dismay echoed regularly and in unison throughout the neighborhood.
The weather was beautiful—warm, without humidity. Gentle breezes buoyed us. The bar I’d stopped at had tall windows, with a façade open to the sidewalk, a tv in clear view from the outside.
An intimate throng of neighbors (and their dogs) accumulated behind me as the game progressed into the fourth quarter.
Barry, a born-and-bred, patiently explained to me Brunson, Wembanyama, and the history of Knicks in the Playoffs, in that order. The ref was routinely excoriated. Someone’s puppy, I think her name was Mitzy, clamored for my attention. One neighbor brought me water because I was thirsty. Someone visiting from Portland offered opinions on street fashion, to which I listened with a benign smile. Everyone was in a good mood.
The air felt electrified; everything shone and pulsed. Our roar could apparently be heard from Jersey.
The game was everywhere, the fever contagious. It ended up being a very close game, the Knicks losing by only a few points. That broke our losing streak but baby it ain’t broke us.
KNICKS.
IN.
SIXXXXXXXX!
Until next time.
Scotland, Highlands 😍💚 Also, "The Download" - I get those too. How my last animation and the one I'm working on came to me. As well as another non-animation project I've been working on for over a year. The Download is definitely part of my work process, and I get them before sleep and before I wake up too.