Lost in the Plot

I have a little bag with some of these badges left over from when I made them a couple years ago, but I really want to make more. There’s something special about the small, round canvas that can really make an image pop. See Benjamin’s badges for some really nice ones.

A pen and acrylic work on canvas from a few years back, documented ages ago and finally dug up from the depths of an old hard drive. The way the pen ink and paint combine and layer is an effect I’ve really gotten to like, and I have other works like this I’ll post soon. I know I’ve said this before, but I’m really keen to translate some of these works to a large scale, and try out more broad gestural paint techniques and application onto the ink. This image isn’t so suited to a large version, it’s a bit too fussy and loose in the middle, but something either more dynamic or a bit more open and relaxed would work.

A rearrangement of living spaces has has granted me a west facing view, which means the Manhattan skyline. Yesterday afternoon, after a drab rainy day, the sun broke through just as it was setting, and I grabbed my little camera to take some shots. I’m going to be watching for more spectacular views like this, though the real test will be if I can get my camera to really capture the awesomeness of my nighttime view – even with my head on my pillow, I can see the skyline, the city lights and the Empire State Building.

I recently put some of my work online in full video form (finally), over at Youtube. Apologies for the poor quality that the Flash video allows, but my decision to upload there was motivated by two things; firstly, the potentially wide exposure that the site is capable of generating, as evidenced by the popularity of my friend Nomis’ recent animated film Rain, and secondly by my frustration at not currently being able to craft a better alternative to present them. I have gotten a super-simple stills portfolio online at lostintheplot.com, though.

That’s the other reason why I’m posting links to old work, and the above still from a 2007 random animation experiment- out of sheer desperation to do something productive and vaguely creative. Currently I am working on my Macbook, which is great, but not really an animation and media workhorse, and is devoid of all creative software except a pathetic Dreamweaver trial about to expire. Back in Australia, dormant in its box, is my Mac Pro and its plethora of creative tools! I’m formulating plans to get it here, but in the meantime I’m going to try and divert my attention to my sketchpad and pencils, and start storyboarding a new idea.

In the decade since Toy Story (1995), Pixar’s work has continued to dominate the computer animation medium, and the studio is often given credit for leading the industry with its creative and technical output. Other major studios like DreamWorks, Blue Sky and Sony Pictures ImageWorks have adopted near identical production approaches, a similar focus on narrative-based, realistic styles, and the same Disney-like commercialism. A comparison of Toy Story (1995) with Blue Sky’s Robots (2005), despite their separation by a decade of computer animation advances (and creative growth in the medium, some would argue), reveals two very similar films; the same approach to visual representation, the same conceptual parameters, and the same technological and commercial impetus. Even with rapidly evolving animation technologies, and massive growth in the computer animation industry, studio films continue to be made with a monotonous familiarity, varying little from film to film, and rooted firmly in the traditions of Disney’s feature work. Perhaps commercial studio animation will always conform to such conventions, and experimental animation will inevitably remain low profile by comparison. The collective output of the studios is, however, by far the most visible expression of computer animation today, and the creative priorities that underscore these films have become the major, pervasive determinants of the medium.

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Tonight I watched Ken Loach’s Kes (1969), a beautiful, moving film that has reminded me what cinema and storytelling should be about. It’s striking in both its humour and its sadness, and at its core is ultimately a very honest and human story. David Bradley’s performance and Billy Casper’s story resonate like few things I have ever seen.

“Kes details the life of Billy Casper (David Bradley), a lonely teen facing a bleak future in a Yorkshire mining town. An outcast at school, Billy’s slight frame and unkempt appearance make him an easy target for teachers and bullies alike. Unfortunately, home provides no respite. Billy’s father is absent, his inattentive mother (Lynne Perrie) offers little guidance or love (referring to Billy as ‘a hopeless case’), and his abusive older brother Jud (Freddie Fletcher) takes out his hostility through punches and insults. However, hope appears in the form of a kestrel, which Billy captures as a fledgling and trains to fly on command. Soon, the bird reveals not only Billy’s untapped potential, but also his desire to escape his toxic environment.”- Senses of Cinema

“Kes is packed with unforgettable moments – Billy finding freedom training his kestrel; the sympathetic teacher (Colin Welland) getting him to address the class about falconry; the bullying sportsmaster (Brian Glover) refereeing the football match; Billy’s brother destroying the bird out of spite. The film established Loach as a master, made the names of Welland and Glover, and launched the career of Chris Menges, one of the great cinematographers.” – Philip French.

You can read a short essay on the film at Senses of Cinema, and an article on Loach at the Museum of Broadcast Communications. A brief summary on Ken Loach can be found at Wikipedia.

Exploring how to create a portfolio that could combine printed artwork and imagery, a DVD or CD, and business cards. In some of the designs the pages of printed material, bound on opposite sides, are layered in an alternating manner so they must be opened one at a time. Also of interest was maximizing the available space for work, and making sure nothing is missed, so a design where both sides of all parts/pages must be viewed. I also wanted to create a system of presentation where work could be revealed in a specific order.

Sketched way back in November 2006, some brainstorming about an elaborate portfolio box; something that could be impressive on its own as an object, and opened to reveal its contents in a controlled manner, like telling a story.

What could have been an ordinary cut from one location to the next is instead a beautiful interlude that perfectly embodies the tone of the film. As a chance to exhale between two scenes heavy with action and dialogue, Andrew Stanton guides us from the dentist’s office to the open ocean in a sequence of five shots.

Accompanied by one of the best cues on the soundtrack (titled Haiku, in reference to the sequence), the camera glides through the window, into the deep blue and slowly towards the whale. For these few moments there is no overt storytelling or subject matter; instead we feel the ambient calm of the sea, the resonance of space. It’s a great example of filmmaking where mood, imagery and story are treated in poetic terms, more abstractly rather than literally. Tolstoy regarded transitions and context as the two most important elements of storytelling, and this sequence demonstrates how effective these can be.

Something from earlier in the year. Now I look at it I really want to use it as a guide for a painted version on canvas, a couple metres high.