The Line Between

The Line Between

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The Line Between
The Line Between
66. Notice
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66. Notice

How we mind complacency. Early morning light, detox and productivity, bypassing the terror of the blank page. Behind the scenes: animating a 14s story.

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Coleen Baik
Feb 21, 2024
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The Line Between
The Line Between
66. Notice
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Composite of frames for today’s experimental vignette. Ink on paper.

In the early morning, the sun hits the surface of my table, just so. During most of winter, I’d been getting up too late to be privy to this golden minute. I’m getting up earlier these days as I work toward 4 am as my daily start time (I’m now at around 6 o’clock). On Friday, I caught this at 7:12 am:

By 7:14 the light was already waning:

By 7:16, it was gone:

During the day, the sun’s progress feels imperceptible because it’s spanning such a distance over so many hours; the clock’s second hand is a miniature proxy for what’s happening. It’s remarkable to witness the movement directly—catching something that has always been available but fleeting, and until now had been unseen.

As you may have caught on, I’ve been thinking a lot about time lately. And intent, too, in what I recognize as a season of decreasing humanity—literally, the declining ratio of human to machine, manual modes to algorithms, compassion to hostility.

My first reaction to all this is to take care of myself more deliberately, so that I can be fit for change. Through small things: saying no, more. Banishing the phone from the bedroom. Being largely off of socials. I also just went through a detox, which I’ll share more about in a member-only rumination soon (for now I’ll say that the experience has been eye-opening; a game changer for productivity as well as mental, and physical, health).

I think with the current level of noise, it’s hard not to lose ourselves. Sometimes on the subway, I look up from my own device and, watching everyone around me, I feel as though I’m in some horrible satire or zombie film. Remembering what a friend said recently, “I don’t look at any other object I own, the way I look at my phone,” the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I hold onto these waking moments, and reset myself.


Members, read on for what’s been going on in the studio. I share a visual behind-the-scenes of making a vignette (an ultra-short animation sequence). I talk about why I do these exercises, and how I believe constrained play activates creative projects.

I end with what’s been feeding me, including samurai stop motion and a conversation about cheating death.

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