I find a perverse pleasure with the fact that my own work demonstrates controversy. Controversy is the point at which the illustrator becomes the artist - instead of taking work at face value, it is analyzed.

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 am almost finished with my work for the HL Exam, which has forced me to become more self-reflexive then I usually am about my work.

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.

I spent last night in the Atlanta Airport because of flight problems. With coffee and computer in hand, with the air of one who briefly smiles and nods at anyone who happens to pass, I wandered around the massive, dark airport, podcasting on the moving sidewalks and plotting my next film.

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.

The missing piece of my movies is the soundtrack. I make everything except the music, even going so far as not beginning a project until I find the right music. Indeed, Eros was first imagined on an airplane some years ago after simply listing to the music for the first time.

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.