words
As I sit here with responsibilities mounting, time slipping, and enthusiasm temporarily dipping, the last thing I should be technically doing is writing in this white space ahead of me. But, I've committed. A few lines is all we ever need.
Love,
Process
Not only do you get a 2D cartoon representation of me, you also get some quotable gems I've probably (wisely) moved away from.
Cartoon Amir.
In all honestly, this is a cool film series published by FOCAL PRESS with some interesting, and talented(this word is meaningless in many ways, but not always) filmmakers.
I however, did not reread this after it was sent 6 months ago to be published, because, what is the point of revising archived opinion?
With that said, can it possible be the best thing I've ever written? Not sure.
Enjoy, share and let me know your thoughts.
“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.”
This is a quote from science fiction GRAND MASTER, Robert Heinlein, possibly & ironically most famous for in recent pop culture, as the original source of the Hollywood dud, STARSHIP TROOPERS, a book he penned in 1959. (this is also one hell of a dud sentence, but it's my fucking website, so kindly deal with it)
Most people react to the last sentence in Heinlein's quote, which forgoes context. Given at face value, its a cry against our Western ideal of mastery, and an endorsement of the "Jake of All Trades" pejorative . But in context, both as a quote and in the world we are living in, I think it's a very critical thought. Specialization is an industrial desire, and in our idea centric world, a sure way to be locked into a pivot-less occupation, when the world is accelerating exponentially.
I am a propionate of mastery. But, mastery in it, and only of itself is akin to obsessive compulsiveness. It's a limit of human potential, and of living an interesting and fulfilling life. We should all master one thing, but we should all carry that curiosity and drive into other things that are deserving of our attention. This well rounded pursuit is not to be at the top 5%, or 1% best at all things, but to be capable human beings well suited for adaption. Human beings with ability, empathy, & drive.
So, learn how to code, play an instrument, build a table, or pick up a chemistry book because it is through these other things that you can become indispensable on a higher level at the one thing that really gets your blood boiling. Ultimately, learning is the great human gift.
One thought of late has been about my relatively recent obsession with animation. Ghibli obviously being the crown jewel of the cinematic version, has my complete undivided attention, a feat of impossibility these attention starved days. My most anticipated movie this year for me, the one that really gets me excited is THE TALE OF THE PRINCESS KAGUYA, and the previous year was Miyazaki's THE WING RISES.
That happened to be my favorite movie going experience as well. I was all alone in the theater.
My reasoning can be in due part to Ghibli's scarcity. Miyazaki is retired, and Takahata I'm assuming will too. Takahata is in his late seventies. They are the last of the 2D master's and with them retired, the cinematic art form of traditional animation will suffer a great, incalculable loss.
I also feel that my obsession is driven by the fact that this process is so foreign to me, but such a specialized gift that is not aided much by other things in it's raw sense. It is an expression from hand to screen. And, I also know with almost absolute certainty that I can never personally draw a 2D movie. (However, I would be more than happy to direct. In fact, I have a concept ready to go, so go ahead and hit that contact button if you're a a visionary first, and a super cool investor second. Thanks.)
We often do storyboards in live action, then film it. The process itself is always a reenactment of something. A reenactment of life when we work in the pseudo realism tradition of today. One that is in love with it's scripts. Of course, cinema is full of examples of people who strove for something else. The Tarkovsky's, Chris Marker's and a grand host of other's rejected this traditional Western reenactment for for something else. I only use these two examples to expedite this thought to page.
Animation to me is a pure process. Of course, massive amounts of man power and time (often much more time than live action) are needed to make it happen, but in it's purest sense, it lives on a piece of paper. Less tools, less middle men, less technology and much more a translation of a dream.
this is my favorite studio logo....
I recently picked up footage from a shoot we did over a year ago. We had some hiccups immediately during post, mostly because the world we were going to build in the box was a bit too complicated and time consuming without a larger team. This was an in-house production, so we aimed high, but the cost analysis did not add up. A little after that realization we actually continued forward with some progress, but life got busy and other important priorities took over.
Now, this happens now and again. Personally, I just move forward without the burden of the past. If the ship is moving, why hit the brakes?
However, deep down, I'm often bothered by projects left to burn in their own ashes. Mostly because other people put in the time.
This is different than long term projects that are continuous and take time because of aesthetics, strategies or just out of necessities. I'm specifically talking about projects abandoned. Nine times out of ten, these are just scripts, treatments or half baked ideas that get pushed aside for newer scripts; but every once in awhile, its actually raw footage being tossed. You took the time to write something, got people together, and you shot the damn thing, and without any hesitation, you just threw it away.
But here is where everything gets tricky. We are in the throes of "content world" now. Everything counts. The golden goose, and the piles of trash. They all have utility, serving the purpose of fulfilling the highs and lows of our culture. The stream of life is not historical. The origin story is now. Do you have enough material to feed this voracious monster?
With that in mind, I just salvaged some visuals locked away in harddrive hell. Conceptually, the idea has changed, I'll be honest. But, the adjustment actually makes more sense now, since it's more in line with a certain creative process I'm dealing with, NOW.
Here is a still from the upcoming MIRS TAKE AWAY visual. The record is two years old and the footage, recently rescued from the depths of a harddrive in Burbank California, is over a year old. Who the fuck would know if I didn't say anything anyways.
Visuals from MIRS TAKE AWAY
Two or three times a year I am burdened by insomnia. Actually, I'm not quite sure I can call it that because in my most natural state, I am of the species of animal that thrives in the night. But, adulthood makes that a difficult condition.
All through my teens and college years I had a habit of staying awake almost right before the sun came through the horizon. I always schedule my classes at UCLA to occur afternoon, and when I couldn't, those classes were hardly attended. I learned to pass classes with technique instead of attendance.
In high school, my senior year marine biology class attendance was under 20 days total that semester, because of the unbearable 8am start time. Most of those days where quiz or test days. The teacher whom I won't name lead the class with a round of applause everyday I would show up (terrible social reinforcement). At the time, I thought it was funny what I was able to get away with, but I can't imagine how any of this was helpful instruction. To my benefit, I did receive an A in class with the usage of my survival "technique". This was also when I figured out that the educational system that I was receiving in the public schools was a sham. This gut feeling, even though I continued through a similar system for many years afterwards, persisted.
As a first generation immigrant, schooling was a necessity, not a choice. It is almost impossible to describe what this feels like, but I can assure you, other immigrants of certain cultures understand this very well.
insomnia, can't quite shake this lovely feeling, oh baby.....
The mind and body work in mysterious ways in the "projects" realm. One of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten about life in the arts is that, "your story is never linear". You cannot force your idea of plot unto the real thing. And when you do, life is a constant and consistent burden, one that always fails to satisfy, along with falling short of these preexisting narratives.
the sun
evaporated fish tank
few breaths
algae bloom
the end
an image from THREE WORLDS....
Today is one of my best friends birthdays. His is never forgotten. Although I forget many other birthdays, a habit I am not proud of given the breadth of technology available to remind you, his is my second thought of the day. The first is reserved to 911, the American Tragedy.
It's been 13 years, a fact equally astonishing to realize the unequivocal changes throughout the world since. Their was no youtube, iphones, gopros, twitter or facebook. We didn't personally document everything like a desperate hoarder, grasping to no avail at a slipping life.
The memories now of that horrific date are living and breathing ones. They feel tangible, and although they might not be accurate given our subjective and changing memory, they can be as raw as the real thing. In this case, that's a truth. It burns. The heart.
Last night, towards the end of an intimate wedding, three men huddled together at the back of a fancy hotel courtyard, cocktails in hand, discussing THE SINGULARITY. An almost spontaneous conversation with very little pre-talk. Straight faced, and committed.
Two days prior, in a small downtown bar, the patron and bartender sparked up several conversations. It was obvious that these talks happened quite regularly. As one conversation bounced to the next, THE SINGULARITY reared its once ambiguous head into the dialogue seconds before serialized Japanese Yakuza movies from the 70's.
A week before this, in a large cafe with a direct path to the Hollywood sign, a man and a women, after a lemonade and espresso chatted about the robotic overlords; one part jest, one part contemplative certainty.
THE SINGULARITY: no longer relegated to sci-fi dork-hood, or computer scientist savants and futurist with lots of time on their hands. It is now part of the dialogue. Maybe not with the same rapidity as The Kardashians, but in enough minds to infer that it's manifestation is inevitable. Lets just make sure we can become friendly enough to make room, because our time as the top of the chain is limited. As Douglas Rushkoff states, "I'm on team human".
the day was filled with heaps of molasses
brain function, enslaved by an under the influence and angry source
a day where "you just can't fucking do anything"
except think of the scattered-ness of everything
and all worldly things
like an old, cool nikon lens you found in your grandma's attic
that just doesn't focus
and even though it's kind of hip with that softness, deep down you know
it's only producing shit
but where do you take it
are there such things as camera stores anymore
Look within
the noise
the constant stream
penetrate by watching
silently
intensely
as the cacophony melts away
it will resist with monsters like you've never seen
and then
and then, after the beasts lay dead
you can breath that last breath
you don't need anymore
"way to go", was the last thing I heard from her.
it was over, like the proverbial blink of the eye. no closure, nothing. the pain, it was excruciating for a bit, but you know what, it was bound to happen anyway. and I've always wanted to travel.
i was a Sagittarius and she was some other shit. i forget which it was, maybe the crab or the bull, or whatever, but i know now, that we weren't compatible.
how come i didn't know that at first, like right of the bat. what a shame, a real life shame?
she was real pretty though. that part hurts the most, because, well, her personality wasn't as pretty.
the thing is, time evaporates. and this is compounded, unjustly, with the cumulative gathering of it's fleeting essence. so, it's probably best to keep your days completely full, or, just the opposite, floating on a hammock. the middle, you know, that 9-5, clock in clock out, the thing that the entire industrial age was built on. that's the fastest ticket onto the bullet train to older. here in the middle, grey haired the next.