95. Oxygen
How we sustain ourselves, and our work. Structure, storyboarding, subway stories.
Putting the oxygen mask on myself first has long been a trusted routine, but now that things seem unendingly f*cked, I’m finding that I never want to take it off. And that creates its own issues.
I can overthink even the easiest possible ways to help (donating money), getting mired in an infinite loop of guilt and doubt (because, short of putting my physical body on the line, I might feel that every other kind of action lacks integrity).
More often than not, I end up doing nothing.
For someone privileged with access and safety, I’m finding that remaining human and remaining active, sometimes requires pragmatism over idealism.
So these days, I’m ignoring internal rhetoric and doing just one thing. Then another thing. Even if it’s simply research or having a conversation or yes, donating money.
In “In Defense of Despair,” Hanif Abdurraqib whom I had the privilege of holding space with among fellow Periplus members recently says:
The propulsive moments that some might consider signs of hope I have renamed necessity. Hope means both everything and nothing at all, and yet it is always purported to be within reach. Hope is the fluorescent bird. The bird makes no sound. It is in a cage. No one can find the key, and no one has seen the key in a very long time, and they aren’t sure that they’d even free the bird if they found the key. And yet, collectively, people must keep asking for it.
I read, and re-read, this passage, as if it were a mantra.
News
Thank you to everyone for coming out on the 17th to Hanbeon Deo at Golden Hof, and for supporting our work. And gratitude to Oof Stories for this lovely shot of LEISURE | 여유:
In the studio
Filmmaking is a long game.
If you’ve been with me a while you know that I go through itinerant periods of consumption and noodling between project culminations (Tuscany March 2021, Chamoe May 2022, 엄마 나라 | MOTHER LAND August 2023). I can take a story through lots of iterations, and I can take an iteration pretty far. At some point, I decide to finish it out as an actual film, or fork it off into another iteration.
This latest is far-along and ready for some structure. Behold, an actual storyboard:
I’m now developing the first part of this into a primer.
My ideas around what a primer is has evolved since Chamoe, but the gist is that it’s a concrete artifact that can anchor me both stylistically and vibe-wise as I begin toeing higher-fi production. This doesn’t mean that everything will be set in stone so much as that I’m making the first cut of a groove. It is a higher level of commitment to a direction, and it does mean that I’m potentially close to production.
Members, read on about how I’m transitioning from exploration into structure: with digital and physical optimizations, editorial tricks, new software. Plus, “Spring Sunday,” a microessay in closing.