52. Quiet
52. Quiet
How we protect the integrity of what we make. Clarity through reception. Feeling more, thinking less.
“Let me sit here for ever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself.”
–Virginia Woolf, The Waves
When I was little, I’d wake before the sun was properly up, to sit in my grandmother’s airy kitchen. She lived in a manicured suburb of Los Angeles, with a large front lawn and an even larger garden in the back. It’s a powerful memory, replete with the smell of coffee, open windows, dew on leaves of an impossible saturated green; the white of sills and walls, steam from the kettle, bird sounds. My mother’s lap, the placid murmurations between her and her own mother. My silence.
Mornings are still my favorite time. It’s when I feel most myself, most able to connect with my work.
As I organize footage for an upcoming exhibit, I’m realizing what feels most challenging about deadlines and structure right now. Every project is different, but this one feels particularly sensitive to steering; it wants to be left alone to make its own way. If I’m not careful, I anticipate that a timeline—or any external rigidity introducing tension—will undesirably influence a project that feels fragile to engage with in the first place.
To counterbalance distractions and forces over which I’ve little to no control, I’m entering a sort of quiet period where I’ll lean into feeling more, thinking less.
I spent the past few weeks dealing with technical difficulty while finishing up a sequence.
When I ran the turntable after a week away, I thought I was going crazy. The phonotropes (animations on a turntable) that I’d carefully designed to animate in-place, were now drifting. The speed of the turntable had begun to vary wildly.
I’ll spare you the details but clearly, I had to return and replace the turntable. While waiting for a new one, it was necessary to re-print discs with 35 instead of 34 drawings, and shoot the animations at 27 versus 26 fps. This was an irritating hiccup, reminding me how delicate momentum is. But now I have an accurate turntable and can even shoot at the standard 24fps if I want.
By the way, TLB subscriptions paid for my new turntable! Members, thank you—the project obviously can’t move forward without this equipment. If you’re not yet a Member but would like to support my work in this way, you can become a paid subscriber ❤️ If you can’t yet commit, I appreciate one-off contributions too 🙏
Paper set to dry before scanning:
Facial features (visual anchors) painted relatively tight:
Printed onto a 12” disc:
An iteration, coming to life:
And this might be me, a girl, on fire.
Until next time.
This is so cool. I'm starting an experimental animation course in August. I love the idea of doing something more organic like watercolor.
Gorgeous issue. Such a thrill to see the process laid out beat by beat in this way, especially with the timelapse GIF. And that final image, where it all comes together, is really remarkable -- one of the best pieces of animation featured in TLB to date. Great work!