Original Sparks

I cannot seem to locate a seminal interview on creativity. It’s something I read in the ’90s; and I’m convinced it was by Julie Taymor. She was discussing her creative process. What I recall was she had an anthropological method of creating inside the box. By keeping boxes in her studio she would throw everything in that inspired her: a piece of fabric, books, scribbles and notes, everything. She would maintain boxes by concept, character, project—whatever is relevant. That way as she begins to push the subject she can always return to original sparks. A texture that had been overlooked until it was ready to be incorporated could re-emerge. A gesture or line that couldn’t seem to be re-drawn needn’t be lost. More importantly, this method of capture allowed her to delve back as far as she can research until she discovers the archetype, origin, the kernel of the thing she is pursuing. If by chance she is led astray, she can always undo. I love this methodology. It’s a concept that I think of several times a year. Twice I’ve heard Grant McCracken present on archetypes and it’s a topic I want to explore further. I’m interested in learning more about the intersection of gestalt, archetypes, and anthropology.

I’ve been thinking of Julie Taymor recently for having seen The Lion King musical again. Naturally it only makes me want to rewatch Titus or Frida. I love Ms. Taymor’s art brut methods. Her brazenness and nuance are covetable.

For lack of better, here is a fine interview between Ms. Taymor and Oprah. The photo above is from Sara Krulwich/The New York Times.

I Wan'na Be Like You

I recently saw Waking Sleeping Beauty—a documentary about Disney's animation studio from 1984-1994 (e.g. age 11 to the year before I graduated from college). I went in as a patron of the artists ... and left having revisited the entirety of my adolescence through the lens of fantasy and imagination without any other cultural references. What an amazing revisitation. I was stupefied by the flashbacks, and emotions it conjured. It was unique to remember moments and people, but not all the other stuff. I love contradictions and this was a great one: to feel simultaneously connected to this magical realm, and yet to have had a completely objective review of that most bizarre period of life—adolescence.

It was equally unique to review my career decisions that led me away from animation. When I think of the journey of an artist and all the motivations and inspirations juxtaposed against our changing culture ... I can't say I'm sorry. I'm really happy with my life in it's present state. But it's always heartening to have cinema and animation available. Catharsis, fantasy, escape, and ultimately—confronting reality—all seem implicit parts of the viewing experience. Spectating is rarely a passive experience.

Vintage Travel Ephemera

While helping to clear out my step-grandfather in-law's apartment (is that even a relationship?) I was given these gems from his daughter. Disneyland Map, circa 1964; Scenic Wonders of the West photo folio, circa 1942; and the New Zealand Free Lance Annual, Oct. 16, 1939.

Opening the Disneyland map, in particular, gave me chills like the scene in The Goonie's when the boys find the map in the attic. I just love how the creases make their own topography on top of what is already a map.

The Scenic Wonders of the West folio has extraordinary texture. It could be re-created today with Mohawk's Cordwain for the folio, and the nicely textured Neenah Coronado paper for the tinted photos.

Both the hairline and script fonts within the New Zealand Free Lance Annual are back in style. the '30s had typography pegged ... that era is still making statements.