Hey Michael, I read this piece last month when you released it but never got a chance to comment. But since then this piece has stuck in my mind. I resonated so much with idea that physical objects hold a great deal of meaning. Something it's so easy to forgot now that everything is so easily stored in the digital world. It was a beautiful reminder to get out there and make and enjoy physical things. I love that you printed out Intensly Specific. Errors and all. That tends to happen when we go into the physical world. But maybe that's how it's meant to be. Maybe the idea comes into our heads, and we're meant to execute it in the best way we can. Even if it's clumsy. Even if it doesn't live up to the perfection in our minds. Before it did not exist. And now it does. And when you can hold that in your hands... wow. That's something. Absolutely loved this reminder!
Hi Renee. I’m glad to hear it stayed with you. I feel like it’s an idea that keeps surfacing in other things I do, too. I take solace in having several digital backups of things—Google Photos is huge—but nothing feels like a physical, feel-able thing. Thanks for reading (and I hope you’re well!)
Yeah I agree! And my grandmother would also agree with you on the photo front. Some of my faveorite memories are of us sitting in her apartment going through stacks and stacks of old photo books :) I feel like it's going to be more and more important as we go deeper into the digital age! I'm doing well thanks, hope you are too!
I love that image. My relatives would do the same when I was a kid—every one had an album. I was going to say I haven’t done it for years, but I got to go through the wedding book my best friend and his partner made. Which was super fun.
I'm always surprised by how much I've drawn when I look back at my work in flash drives. Out of sight, out of mind... Not having those physical pieces taking up space in the attic really makes me underestimate the amount I've done. Same thing for writing, since I do most of it online, I don't think I get the magnitude of how much I've written. I have a few journals lying around here and there, but I always forget about them unless I'm bored, at which I'm always shocked by the proof of my past. Physical media is inherently satisfying in that regard; it contradicts nihility by screaming, "I'm literally right here! I'm literally the proof of concept! You did something and weren't sitting around all day like a blob your whole life." The joy of literally seeing the rewards of your work I think comes from a place of legitimacy from the nigh enshrinement of physical media, whether it's those cheap prints told at TJMaxx or and general satisfaction of the idea of art outliving its maker. It's really interesting. I personally feel really bad when I look at my old sketchbooks... some of the things I drew I would never show anyone in a million years even if the sun implodes and my drawings are civilization's last trace, but I guess the value is in their childishness and how I tried to explore it that way. With most everyone in the art industry moving digitally to interact with other artists, I guess I've become numb to the crispness of physical copies, though they're definitely much simpler to handle than undead digital copies I don't know if I've made my own backup copies of. Maybe I should print out all my works too.
Before I get you sued by the UCLA printer ink requisitions team, I’ll amend my advice: I think the important stuff deserves a physical analog. It feels different holding a book or leafing through sketches. As my friend Bria said on Sunday when we talked about this, physical books show history. You can see they were engaged with. There’s so much void out here. I love this space and am better for it, but I do want my best stuff—which is my books and people—to outlast me. There are no guarantees of that; they probably won’t! But this salves that anxiety about it a little bit, and it lets me know this nebulous void filler is just a little bit more. If that thought soothes you, CTRL P away, friend.
I really relate to your appreciation for tangible keepsakes.
I have been filming my friends and I skate for years, and every so often I turn all that footage into a skate video. And until very recently, I turned all of those videos into dvds. I’d make a little cover and give all the boys in the video a copy. But in the last few years the boys have expressed that they don’t have DVD players anymore. They say, “just put the vid on YouTube” and so, I do that. But I still make a hard copy of the video for myself, because much like you, I appreciate having a tangible memento of our time skating together.
Yep—the thought of those special skating sessions with your friends having space on your shelf made me instantly smile. The designing of those covers gave you yet another way to commemorate it, too.
As I think about your comment, it dawns on me that my original inspiration was a photograph someone took in October on their phone that I printed. I assembled a photo album as a kid through the end of high school, but I haven’t assembled one since then. Like with your skate videos, it might be fun to design little photo books to honor the biggest memories from the year.
Thanks for reading, Michael. Can’t tell you how excited I was when I saw your name in my inbox again this week.
Yeah making the photo covers was a fun part of it. I’d either use a photo that meant something to those of us in the video, or I’d take a screen grab of one of the boys better tricks and use that as the cover along with the title. Then I’d format it so I could flood the print out and put in the DVD case — it’s as close as I’ve come to doing arts and crafts hahaha.
And yes, your photo album idea sounds great! My mum has a bunch of photo albums at her place and it seems like we always end flicking through them — there is something so enjoyable about doing it together as opposed to scrolling through photos on a phone.
Hey Michael, I read this piece last month when you released it but never got a chance to comment. But since then this piece has stuck in my mind. I resonated so much with idea that physical objects hold a great deal of meaning. Something it's so easy to forgot now that everything is so easily stored in the digital world. It was a beautiful reminder to get out there and make and enjoy physical things. I love that you printed out Intensly Specific. Errors and all. That tends to happen when we go into the physical world. But maybe that's how it's meant to be. Maybe the idea comes into our heads, and we're meant to execute it in the best way we can. Even if it's clumsy. Even if it doesn't live up to the perfection in our minds. Before it did not exist. And now it does. And when you can hold that in your hands... wow. That's something. Absolutely loved this reminder!
Hi Renee. I’m glad to hear it stayed with you. I feel like it’s an idea that keeps surfacing in other things I do, too. I take solace in having several digital backups of things—Google Photos is huge—but nothing feels like a physical, feel-able thing. Thanks for reading (and I hope you’re well!)
Yeah I agree! And my grandmother would also agree with you on the photo front. Some of my faveorite memories are of us sitting in her apartment going through stacks and stacks of old photo books :) I feel like it's going to be more and more important as we go deeper into the digital age! I'm doing well thanks, hope you are too!
I love that image. My relatives would do the same when I was a kid—every one had an album. I was going to say I haven’t done it for years, but I got to go through the wedding book my best friend and his partner made. Which was super fun.
And yes, I’m doing well :)
I'm always surprised by how much I've drawn when I look back at my work in flash drives. Out of sight, out of mind... Not having those physical pieces taking up space in the attic really makes me underestimate the amount I've done. Same thing for writing, since I do most of it online, I don't think I get the magnitude of how much I've written. I have a few journals lying around here and there, but I always forget about them unless I'm bored, at which I'm always shocked by the proof of my past. Physical media is inherently satisfying in that regard; it contradicts nihility by screaming, "I'm literally right here! I'm literally the proof of concept! You did something and weren't sitting around all day like a blob your whole life." The joy of literally seeing the rewards of your work I think comes from a place of legitimacy from the nigh enshrinement of physical media, whether it's those cheap prints told at TJMaxx or and general satisfaction of the idea of art outliving its maker. It's really interesting. I personally feel really bad when I look at my old sketchbooks... some of the things I drew I would never show anyone in a million years even if the sun implodes and my drawings are civilization's last trace, but I guess the value is in their childishness and how I tried to explore it that way. With most everyone in the art industry moving digitally to interact with other artists, I guess I've become numb to the crispness of physical copies, though they're definitely much simpler to handle than undead digital copies I don't know if I've made my own backup copies of. Maybe I should print out all my works too.
Before I get you sued by the UCLA printer ink requisitions team, I’ll amend my advice: I think the important stuff deserves a physical analog. It feels different holding a book or leafing through sketches. As my friend Bria said on Sunday when we talked about this, physical books show history. You can see they were engaged with. There’s so much void out here. I love this space and am better for it, but I do want my best stuff—which is my books and people—to outlast me. There are no guarantees of that; they probably won’t! But this salves that anxiety about it a little bit, and it lets me know this nebulous void filler is just a little bit more. If that thought soothes you, CTRL P away, friend.
I really relate to your appreciation for tangible keepsakes.
I have been filming my friends and I skate for years, and every so often I turn all that footage into a skate video. And until very recently, I turned all of those videos into dvds. I’d make a little cover and give all the boys in the video a copy. But in the last few years the boys have expressed that they don’t have DVD players anymore. They say, “just put the vid on YouTube” and so, I do that. But I still make a hard copy of the video for myself, because much like you, I appreciate having a tangible memento of our time skating together.
Thanks Michael :)
Yep—the thought of those special skating sessions with your friends having space on your shelf made me instantly smile. The designing of those covers gave you yet another way to commemorate it, too.
As I think about your comment, it dawns on me that my original inspiration was a photograph someone took in October on their phone that I printed. I assembled a photo album as a kid through the end of high school, but I haven’t assembled one since then. Like with your skate videos, it might be fun to design little photo books to honor the biggest memories from the year.
Thanks for reading, Michael. Can’t tell you how excited I was when I saw your name in my inbox again this week.
Yeah making the photo covers was a fun part of it. I’d either use a photo that meant something to those of us in the video, or I’d take a screen grab of one of the boys better tricks and use that as the cover along with the title. Then I’d format it so I could flood the print out and put in the DVD case — it’s as close as I’ve come to doing arts and crafts hahaha.
And yes, your photo album idea sounds great! My mum has a bunch of photo albums at her place and it seems like we always end flicking through them — there is something so enjoyable about doing it together as opposed to scrolling through photos on a phone.
Thanks Michael :)