74. Madness
How we stay intentional. World premiere at Brooklyn Film Festival, magic in an animated sequence, basil on a windowsill.
The world premiere of my short film, 엄마 나라 | MOTHER LAND, took place on day three of Brooklyn Film Festival (BFF). Ten whirlwind days of screenings and events wrapped this past weekend.
The entire experience was incredibly inspiring. Watching these fierce films and recognizing the community of creators who gave birth to them—often through as many as five or more years of labor—moved and fortified me. I also just had a ton of fun!
Deepest gratitude to the folks at BFF, for giving indies a platform, and for celebrating our films with such heart and love.
Fellow BFF filmmakers! DM me if you’d like to take Membership for a comped spin ❤️ Today’s issue is paywall-free. Enjoy.
Brooklyn Film Festival, 27th Edition
Opening Night, with my poster:
With fellow filmmakers:
Always a little surreal:
Directors’ Q and A:
Closing night:
Ten days at BFF went by just like that, but so much was packed in during this period that it’s hard to believe that 엄마 나라 | MOTHER LAND premiered only a week ago.
Tribeca has also been in full swing, and I’ve been trying to attend as many films to which I’ve been invited (they comp submitting filmmakers). Between that, an already breakneck summer schedule, and constantly dashing between Brooklyn and Harlem for BFF, my usual rhythms and sense of time have gotten completely out of whack.
While I’m enjoying all that’s going on, there’s a runaway-train feel to my hours and my bedtime has long blown past its carefully cultivated 11pm curfew. I’m yearning for a return to routine—particularly my slow, free Sundays of solitude.
During chaotic intervals in the past, I’ve let myself be consumed until tattered. (Let’s be real, I’m still running a bit ragged.) But the more hectic and rushed I feel, the more I now find myself leaning into intentional movement and deliberate stillness.
Some daily non-negotiables I’ve been anchoring through:
a morning run
a book on the train (however delayed, crowded, or otherwise f-ed)
a midday salad that I compose and consume with care, no matter how frazzled or harried
at least five hours of sleep
In the Studio
Somehow in the middle of this madness I made progress on a bit of animation I’ve been noodling on.
Sketch:
Iteration:
Process in ~2 minutes, @4 to 15x:
Coming together:
When I reviewed progress with fresh eyes one morning, I was struck by how minute movements of the arms give the picture its first signs of life and independence. A series of unmoving drawings, sparking into something more.
Sometimes I forget how extraordinary this process is. I often liken art-making to giving birth, but realize that animating is actually crazier: it brings dead things to life.
Magic; surprising and revelatory.
Watching this little slow-in gave me so much pleasure. I sat for a long time, watching it over, and over again.
Provisions
Some excellent things I took in the past few weeks:
Swimming with Wings by Daphna Awadish Golan · Animated short, BFF 2024
”A short animated documentary exploring the immigration experience through the eyes of a little Israeli girl learning how to swim with clothes on in the Netherlands.” A much-repeated message executed with nuance and originality.
Mr. Rabbit by Bryan Lee · Animated short, NY Premiere at BFF 2024
”Don't believe in yourself Mr. Rabbit, believe in Science!” This film premiered in the same animation block as mine. Bizarre and hilarious.
La Perra by Carla Melo · Animated short, BFF 2024
”Being a daughter, being a mother, becoming a woman.” A gorgeously painted film.
Turandot · Opera
A birthday gift from months ago had me at the Met, champagne and all, the night after premiere. Set design was impressive, and I particularly enjoyed the performances of the starring tenor, Seokjong Baek (Korean!) as well as that of Olga Kulchynska, who played Liù.
The Forgotten Lovers of Single Life · Essay
70-year-old Bella DePaulo on our culture’s failure to recognize singlehood as a legitimate, acceptable, and preferred way of living for those who choose it. I, too, believe that being alone is in many ways a hard-won privilege.
Basil, in closing
After a brief scorcher, NYC weather has evened out into the breezy 70s, Fahrenheit. It’s picnic-in-the-park, long-walks-at-night, yoga-by-the-window, big-salad-then-a-cookie, martini-at-twilight, weather. It makes me think kindly of the practicing violinist across the way. A breeze sluices around my limbs at 6pm, silk-like, and carries to me a sweetness which rises up. I lift my head, reflexively, to regard its source: my basil plant, thriving on the southside windowsill.