I was asked to design the cover for my highschool’s graduation show last year. Then I stayed iconic to my generation, choosing to edit an image of a 5th generation iPod and putting on the cover. It went over well, but was severely lacking in originality and relevance to the school. This was not art - it was a design, made to look as aesthetically pleasing as possible and not offend anybody.

This year, I was asked to do the same thing. I now felt that mere design was not satisfying enough (the next evolution of the cover would have been an iPhone, which means nothing), so I created this image.

My class is the butterfly, pinned down like butterflies often are in museums and science classrooms around the world. There are several things I wanted to accomplish with this image. I wanted to comment on the Aristotelian focus on classifying everything to better understand the universe. I feel it’s important to make distinctions and categorize for scientific advancement, and nothing could be closer to the heart of my school’s IB program. In addition, I glorified my class by giving it the gift of metamorphosis. The pin, which I figured might arouse some feelings, connects with the past nature of our highschool years, a life which I predict will quickly fade into its own dusty museum pice.

I ran the design past my program coordinator to make sure the image was not offending to the program, and she enthusiastically gave it the green light, saying that the butterfly was beautiful in a much more sophisticated way then she had seen before and that censoring the image would go against her own artistic integrity.

But, when presented to a counsel of parents, the image was caught in a crossfire I had not expected - people were upset about the representation of other classes, the pin reminded them of torture, and the classification was seen as irrelevant. Some of the parents enjoyed the image, though, and so did some of my classmates.

I am not interested in drawing people apart over symbols - indeed the contrary would be much more satisfying. What I like is the power that my work had to draw such passionate arguments and heated response. People were actually offended by it, which simply illustrates the power of art.

I was able to narrow down all my movies into a single theme: the melding of science and art.

This theme mirrors my own experiences. The entire art world was foreign to me only a short time ago. My parents vigorously encouraged and stimulated me in the sciences, and while I could tell they appreciated art by their collections of music and literature, they felt ill-advised to teach me about actually creating my own art. As a result, I was very much the science and math type, one who would not put any faith in anything, not the least of which emotions, and I even began thinking of science and art as mutually exclusive. It was not until several years ago, when some people convinced me to enter IB Art class based on animation tests that I had a hobby of creating on the computer. In the class, art started to make sense, and I realized that merging of science and art exists at the level of form and content.

As for form, the majority of the creative process is concerned with the science of the software. At its most basic level, it appears mathematical, and my first animations were little more then proofs of concept of technical ability. With each progressive film, however, my films began to include more and more elements of artistic composition and aesthetic concerns. I paid attention to the story, included motifs and symbols, and took care to address the visual quality in each of the thousands of frames in my movies.

The content of my films sits at the crossroads between science and art. My first serious film, The Ancestor’s Tale, was unabashedly about science. it told the story of evolution and history straight from textbooks. Even in Ancestor’s Tale, though, an element of art came though with the relationship of the image with the music, and the scenes of history and evolution which I chose to recreate. As time progressed my animation tests became films rich in imagery, plot and meaning. My later films became ever more focused on the artistic element of the narrative, while still featuring an element of science or technology which I am conformable with. Primitive Welcome, for example, carries the primary theme of the wonder of life. In the film, a robotic alien probe lands on a primitive Earth and explores the landscape with wonder. Soon, its path is blocked by a primate, which, while more natural and alive than the probe, is more reserved and suspicious of new things then the probe is.

Science and art are not mutually exclusive, and each brach has much to the give to the other. The visual element of style must be complemented with technical skills. It is here, at the crossroads, that I delight.

And speaking of delight, Madeline is nearing completion. IB Art is almost over, and after that, my attention can focus on some Eros-level films.

As I edit the podcast for public consumption, take a critical look at the plot of my next film.

The film opens with a scene of the subway roaring trough a tunnel. We cut to the subway pulling onto a populated, brightly lit platform, where our protagonist, Madeleine disembarks. She is cute, but has an air of masculinity with a beret and trench coat. With wonder in her eyes, she goes to a corner of the platform, kneels and opens her lunchbox. Inside are three red balls and a tip cup. Picking them up, she juggles as the music chimes in rhythm. All day she juggles. At night, when there are a few newspapers floating unconcernedly in the background, she stops to find her tip jar empty.

After a fad-to-black, she brings out the red balls again, hands them to him. Still very much a robot, he goes to the platform and he juggles while she watches her creation from the back. This is fascinating to the people on the platform. They cheer and throw in tips. He looks at her over the pattern, and smiles back at what she made with both her mouth and eyes. Fade to black. Fin.

It’s nice to have this all written out before the actual animation begins. I’m in Park City now, Sundancing away. The weather could not be better, the people more interesting, the atmosphere more excited.

Recently, such a reliance on other people’s music makes me uncomfortable. Copyright, while a good reason in itself to stop using other people’s works, is not even half of it. Music is limiting when making a film — you can’t make a scene happy when the music is somber. I’ve never had any musical training, no instruments, no clue how it works, so I’ve dealt with it the best I could so far.

Over the winter break I spent a lot of time with some friends, breaking down (different from breaking it down to) various songs. Ridin’ Dirty becomes exactly like a Girl Talk song when you remove key tracks, which in turn shares the same basic beat as Madonna’s Like A Prayer. It’s all layers! After getting that, I spent some time working with a real keyboard, learning chords and theory while understanding little of it. But no matter, it’s all layers — pulling up a virtual keyboard and a whole orchestra of instruments on my laptop is all I need.

So I’ve spent the past few days working on this. It’s the opening sequence to my next movie, and is a mere 20 seconds long. Only the first 16 seconds are “finished” — it falls apart after that, but the file can be found here in the hopes that it will inspire comments.

Now, on to the movie itself. I’ve steered it in a much different direction then I originally planned. The movie follows my first human female protagonist, Madeline, deep in a Paris Metro station. The movie still has robots and now has nudism, but the story is robust enough to use both as plot advancers. As ever, it is subject to further change, but I am as excited as ever about this film.

Let’s continue were we left off with Madeline’s development.

Still using the reference image, her nose is taking shape with loops from the noose and mouth.

Without the reference image, it she comes into her own.

Global editing.

Some skin textures and hair modeling created with Blender’s particle simulator. Note the transparency on the ends of the strands.

Eventually Madeline will sport a French beret and a trench coat, but for now her character is ripening for the animation rig.

On Thursday, I will fly to Park City, Utah for my first ever Sundance Film Festival. My excitement exceeds even this movie. No doubt I will return brimming with new podcasts, plots, ski bruises and, most importantly, wisdom.

Face modeling in Istanbul.

The long climb to the other side of the uncanny valley is what persuaded me to not focus on realistic character for Eros, despite being a film which focused more on the human condition then my others. But now I am brave enough to climb, and eager to make realistic human caricatures, even if they are secondary to the robots in my next film.

I started with a deeper understanding of mesh modeling — a character in “Istanbul” began his existence as a cube witch was deformed and sub-surfaced into a face. This girl’s face began as a simple, tiny plain on the top of her nose. The focus here is of the facial features, not the shape of the head as a whole.

Notice the Natalie Portman reference image. Below, the nose begins to take shape.

I’m editing the face from two reference images: one from the font, one from the side. All three dimensions are represented.

The action is focused around the nose, mouth and eyes; this gives the loop structure an easier-to-animate quality since most complicated parts of the face contain the most vertexes.

This method is much more intimate since it focuses on curves not cubes.

Notice how most of the faces are squares and not triangles, which cause problems in the animation.

Notice the difference between these lips and the ones from Istanbul.

From the side. It’s smooth!

That is all I have so far for my next, unnamed film. These more realistic humans should provide sufficient contest with the robotic protagonists.

This new, untitled movie takes place in a subway station where humans and humanoid robots coexist. The robots occupy the more labor-intensive or repetitive jobs. They clean, they monitor the tracks and pilot the trains, they collect tickets and they monitor the CCTV cameras around the near-future train platform.

The robots, being non-human, operate with a sense of sadness. Signs remind them to stick to their programs and they are largely separate from the humans on the platform. One robot in particular - the one that is monitoring hundreds of CCTV camera monitors - feels isolated enough to show sadness.

That is the setup for this film, and all I will reveal so far as I finalize pre-production. Sufficed to say, there will be juggling.

Here is an early, quick sketch of a robot’s head:

Another early sketch:

Interior of a subway tunnel

Textured interior of a subway tunnel

This caught me off-guard. Just like a journalist is different from a writer, an entertainer is different from an artist. My films have been, in my mind, for entertainment. I wanted to make people laugh, to tell a good story.

Then something happened that made art seem a little less cryptic. It starts in the summer of 2005, when I saw someone get raped in Sofia. I was sleeping on a couch with the windows open to a 7 story balcony, I heard unmistakable sounds and saw what was going down on the street below. There were many offenders, and I did not do anything… no calling the law enforcement, no waking anyone else up. I just paced.

So, in my high school Philosophy class a few days ago, I brought it up, leading to fresh thoughts on the matter.

Many people say art comes from such experiences; or indeed, the only way you can create good art is if you have experienced a great amount pain. While most of the time I wave this idea off as silly and insist that most of my “art” (it always sounds so pompous to call yourself an artist, no?) does not come from pain. I realized that much of my memory of that night comes not of the event but the fact I convinced myself to make a film about Sofia, and as the sun rose, made a time-lapse.

That film, the first one I made, was unintentionally born from that experience. But watching it again, my Impressions of Sofia were pretty favorable. Though the will to make a portrait of the city was fueled by what I saw, but the portrait itself is almost optimistic. Check it out; the first scene is from said balcony, on that morning.

I’m amazed that my own art could come from this, without even making the connection. All of a sudden, art makes more sense. What a wonderful feeling.

This was the first time I was in such a bright limelight, and it felt great. I got plenty of emails, subscriptions, advice, and helpful criticism. As I predicted, my podcasts are becoming more popular then my movies themselves. People like to have a story told to them, and I think that the podcasts actually do a better job then many of my films (so far, of course).

The spotlight also allows me to better understand my audience. I know what you’re saying. You’re saying, “how traditional media of you, Ian! This is the internet; just focus on making what you like, and people will come”. Without a real organic community around the studio yet, I feel it’s best not to try and limit myself to a tutorial podcast or episodes of “where is Ian today?”, though some consistency is desirable, if only to define yourself.

Perhaps the iPod-tested halo effect will dive more visitors to the movies themselves. But for now, I am content with the podcasts holding their own.

In other news, Eros is close. As I type, three machines are rendering a total of fifteen reflective balls flowing in beautiful juggling patterns. What I’ve rendered and edited, I’m proud of; what I’m animating, I’m excited about. Peace.

In Istanbul, the structure of bones (or armatures) in the characters did not use a system called IK kinetics to control the structure of the bones. Instead, each bone was rotated separately and manually like moving a wireframe model. IK kinetics stets up a set of rules for the software that will automatically move the bones near the one moved manually in a realistic (and user defined) manner, making the mesh behave much more like a puppet.

A perfect example of where this is useful is the (almost infamous) scene in Istanbul where a character reaches for an orange. Instead of simply moving the hand and letting the rest of the arm deform itself realistically, I animated it by manually moving each part of the mesh until it looked realistic enough. Of course, it did not look realistic enough.

So, the protagonist in my next movie is fully set up by IK kinetics. Here are some early versions of the character with a disjointed head and stubs for arms, very much borrowing elements from ancient Cycladic statues.

I began by creating the bone structure and modifying it outward into the fingers like so. There are no IK kinetics here.

Once the structure is complete, adding the IK kinetics allows for better control over the mesh, and I maneuvered the statue into a sitting position and moved the hands onto the knees.

And here is a frame from the final render showing the stature complete and expressing loneliness.

Since the style is very similar to that of Cycladic statures and figurines, and since the characters have no facial features other then an elongated nose, all the emotional elements must be communicated by body movements. It is interesting how much faith we put on body language, something that has been lacking in my previous films.