Andrew Wong

[ long version | short version ]

Ancient Greek uses two words for time: chronos, referring to sequential time (from which we get “chronology”); and kairos, which describes a specific point in time of undetermined length in which a significant event occurs. The latter has persistent philosophical connotations, often referring to a “supreme moment” or “reckoning.” Had the Greeks discovered moving pictures, they might have related the concept of chronos to the persistence of vision—the lifeblood of film that is pumped through celluloid veins at 24 frames per second… and suspended within this supple emulsion would be all the dialogue beats, storyboard panels, climaxes, and dénouements—the kairos moments that are the raisons d’être of all narrative fiction.

Animation is like accounting: the very act is not what would be considered “fun” by the fit or the sane. It is, in fact, a dismal science. Yet the professional realizes it must be done—and done well. One of my goals is to be such a professional. It is not done for its own sake. It is a means to an end—the kairos—the gay science, the price of glory.

III

In the age of mixed media, the artist who masters more than one medium thrives. By this measure, it is not the architect, ad exec, or even the Hollywood director who commands our attention, but the chef—for they serenade us with all our senses. Moreover, the culinarist's prime purveyance takes not the form of rhetorical abstractions, fleeting counterpoints, or a rude simulacrum of outward appearance—their medium is life itself. It is by the very ordinariness of such an artist's clay that it both speaks to us with such ease, and is so easily taken for granted. Like a sudden change in weather or the greeting of a stranger, its wonder is ubiquitous; yet few take notice.

Illusioneering is a double-edged sword: for in all one’s efforts to fool the viewer’s eye, they risk fooling their own. It is for this reason that the humble creator works in aggregate, and has relegated the auteur to the status of figurehead. When craftsmen smooth over one another's rough-hewn efforts with tongues of sandpaper, they ensure widespread efficacy of communication in rapid times. The myriad spokes point axle-ward, and the wheel rolls on. One of my goals is to be not just a spoke, but a pillar. Is it any wonder “communicate” and “community” share a common root?

Time flows in one direction, and the consummation of its merciless vector is a sad and incurable symptom of a finite existence. Creation still yet abounds, and our gifts of hope and hindsight help to bind our meagre rags. In the same way that threads can be woven into fabric—and finally garments—so too does every yard of chronos bear the potential for kairos. To merely endure is to watch as the tapestry unravels—but to welcome the spinning spool with eager hands is to clothe oneself against the coming storms.