85. Alchemy

How we rise against cynicism. The necessity of critique for growth. Design practices in an art studio. The shape of good storytelling. The obligatory holiday gift guide.

Waxing.

2024 is nearly over and it seems to be cramming as much fracas as possible into its final days. With regard to Yoon Suk Yeol, I feel utter contempt. In parallel: intense pride of Koreans, who squashed that sh*t immediately. I feel both envious of, and dread for, Syria. For Biden and the left; disdain. Trump and the right; disgust. There’s tremendous energy in noise and chaos. Violence is an exemplar of wastefulness.

This past week I watched The Wild-Tempered Clavier (it was available briefly for North American folks; interview here). It’s an Oscar-qualifying stop-motion animation (hand-painted on rolls of toilet paper!?) by beloved local artist Anna Samo of Animation Speak/Easy.

In the latter half of the 12-minute-ish Youtube, Anna speaks about the film and her choice of material:

I often was questioning what am I actually doing in this world as an artist and what my obligations are towards the world. And can I just sit in my studio and paint my drawings on the toilet paper; it’s such a senseless thing.

When you paint on toilet paper with watercolors you give away all the control that you have…and there was something appealing in it because it’s also how I feel that life is; you don’t have much control about what is happening in the world. And you have to deal with it…

I started The Wild-Tempered Clavier out of a desire to play. To experiment with materials, to spend time with the music. To react to what is happening with the material, to feel the resistance of the material and to work with it.

And then there were constantly all these interruptions; and the world outside would knock on my door and say hey! this is what’s happening. And it's hard to say, well I'm an artist and I still should be allowed to play because this is still how I make sense of things, of this confusion; of being a human being in this world in this particular time.

Play, because this is the only way for me to react and to be a part; not to try to hide from what is happening but to be part of it, to try to process it.

The cynic then feels gratitude, an emotion which rises up like a tide against the knocking.

Making sense of things this way, of processing the world through a certain kind of movement, could be alchemical. Sound and fury wrung through the warm gloopy mechanisms of us—viscera, brain, and beating organ—eventually resurfacing on some other plane, in another form.

In the studio

엄마 나라 | MOTHER LAND will have its California premiere at a beautiful, intimate indie fest called San Diego Underground Film Festival.

I had such low expectations this year for the festival circuit—not because I think my film is unworthy, but because it’s such a strange hybrid: not traditional animation, not quite documentary; all ambiguity, little context. More than one curator has sent a personal note with regrets, saying that they just couldn’t figure out how to program it. Yet somehow, this little weirdo has received three laurels. That says something about connection; and the life of made things.

In the studio, I’ve just finished a prototype for a late winter/early spring exhibit. It seems I may be on this until mid-February, and animation has been clamoring for attention. I do miss animating, but I’ve also been enjoying my time with paper and wood, away from the Cintiq. My hands are inky and stained with paint; my manicure is shot to hell, skin peeling and gummy with wax.

Interestingly, the next iteration of these paintings is evolving in such a way that my connection to animation feels very present as a vibe.

Remember that it’s all one thing.

Incidentally, I note—with particular pleasure—that I’m more fluid and efficient than the last time I worked with the same materials.

These panels, as well as the paper, have small dimensional inconsistencies. I check alignment every 90º, then mark an anchor for the orientation that best fits the corresponding painting.

Mounted pieces in the late afternoon light.

A thin coat of Dorland’s wax medium will cure over 24 to 48 hours and provide protection for paintings that are not behind glass.

Once the prototype had cured and composed, I invited five artists, one of whom is the show’s curator, to critique it. I specifically avoided group sessions for this prototype, and sought feedback from professional artists with a degree of success with their craft:

Two make 100% of their living from painting, with work in museums such as the Smithsonian; two are art professors, one of whom recently had a solo show in a Manhattan gallery. Some of the curator’s work can be seen alongside Greta Lee in The Morning Show.

I was grateful for these artists’ generosity, and careful to make the most of my limited time with them—so I prepared a presentation that could efficiently introduce the work while preserving enough time for discussion within as little as 30 minutes.

There were 82 slides in my Keynote presentation, including process-related ones for as-needed context. Members can see more of this deck, below.

Criticism is critical for growth.

I believe that this is a non-negotiable if you want to grow in a craft.

During these sessions I was reminded of how I only really grew as a designer, almost a decade after I entered the tech industry, when I was put through the wringer at Twitter. It was the pre-twenty-teens. I was timid and rough around the edges, thrown in with a small team of superstars. My sensibilities and rigor of practice developed over a period of five packed years, brutal crit after brutal crit.

My skills as a product designer—roadmapping, iterating, pivoting, presenting—compose a solid part of my toolkit. I leverage them often in my artistic practice.

(It’s all one thing.)

Being busy with work, family, and holiday preparations force unconventional meeting times. The crit with the curator ran over 1.5 hours, and the only time we could make it work was after 9pm on a Wednesday. I ran home after dinner, a glass of wine in, for this late night session.

After five generous conversations, I came away with a wealth of insight and energy for the next iteration. I felt that the past week also marked what feels like a clear point of transition for me. One sign of growth has been that feedback more frequently leads to clarity versus dilution, confusion, or uncertainty.

More on this for Members below. But first, the obligatory…

2024 holiday gift guide

Eight well-vetted suggestions for a discerning love in your life.

1. The PicoPresso portable espresso maker · For the espresso lover on the go
   Compact, well-crafted, impressive without hyperbole. It has made better espresso than my kitchen counter workhorse. A micro-foamer and a contactless thermometer can round out the kit.

   

   Microfoam without a steam wand!

2. Doppio cup and spoon · For the espresso lover at home
   Gorgeous to the eye, pleasure in the hand. Drinking out of this gives me so much joy—every afternoon at goûter, sometimes again after dinner.

   

   Perfect with a canelé.

3. Loop earplugs · For delicate ears
   Elegant little things that will allow you to have a conversation with your dining partner while dulling the elephantine voice of an American who insists on being heard an entire table over at a restaurant.

   

   These saved me at a loud Brooklyn restaurant.

4. The Untethered Soul · For healing
   A guidebook for life. Whenever I’m destabilized, I return to this little tome. Ignore the cover design, and don’t be scared by the occasional woo-woo language. There’s deep, evergreen, practical wisdom here.
   

5. The D Drop humectant factor · For winter skin
   I crave Khus Khus products especially in colder climes during drier months. A little goes a long way. A luxurious little stocking stuffer.
   

6. Suna chocolate · For the sweet tooth
   A childhood chum is now making organic artisanal chocolate for both eating and drinking, but that’s not why I’m recommending it. It is taking off. From their website:
   
   Our chocolate is made from scratch with love directly from the highest quality cacao beans sourced from small farms around the world. We roast, crack, shell, and stone grind the beans for 48-72 hours in very small batches to bring out exceptional flavor and combine with organic and locally sourced ingredients inspired by the Verde Valley in Arizona. We only use organic unrefined sugars.
   
   They’re growing fast and working on shipping out-of-state very soon. Meanwhile, find them at local farmer’s markets in Arizona’s Verde Valley and follow them on Instagram for updates.
   

7. Veji bag · For the wasteless kitchen
   These 100% cotton bags are MAGIC and have kept my veggies fresh for literally weeks. I actually use the bags dry for delicate items such as cucumbers; experiment and see what works best for different kinds of produce.

   

   They’ve different bag sizes for a variety of needs; even one specifically for herbs, my personal fav.

8. Rona cordial coupettes · For the tiny ‘tini lover
   If you know me, you also know that I adore small things made of glass, metal, or ceramic. I fell in love with the ones at Tusk Bar here in Manhattan; these are the very same. Perfect for intimate holiday gatherings.

   

   They are unfortunately only available from Australia. Order in bulk with friends to offset the shipping cost (that’s what I did).

Thanks for reading. I wish for you all a cozy and peaceful lead-up to the holidays.

Members, continue for a closer look at the Keynote I presented to my critics, along with brief thoughts on a wonderful animated short film I recently saw as it relates to my own creative growth.

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