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The World According To

5 Episodes

93 minutes | Mar 12, 2021
The World According to Michael Coorlim
‍Michael Carychao: Welcome, Michael Coorlim. Can you tell us about your name?Michael Coorlim: Okay. Michael may be a name that you are familiar with: "Who is God?"  Coorlim is from my grandfather, from the Greek, columbinus. When his family came over they shortened it to Coorlim.  What are you drinking, by the way?Michael Carychao: Egyptian Licorice Mint Tea, which is soothing for my throat.  When you describe yourself on your website, you describe yourself as, "an author who makes games aspiring to be a game developer who writes books."  Michael Coorlim: Basically I've been doing both things for most of my life. Earlier with the writing, but since I was 12, I've also been making games. When I was young, I would pick up microcomputers at garage sales. I think my first was either a TSR- 80 or an Atari 400, I'm not sure which, but it came with BASIC. I would get those books from the library, you know, 101 Basic Programs.Michael Carychao: I had that same book.Michael Coorlim: For the listeners who may not be aware, they're basically line after line of code that you would type in. You'd come up with little games. I would challenge myself by seeing what kind of modifications I could make, what twists I could do to try to customize them a little bit, because I loved games. I had my first hand-me-down Atari 2600 from my uncle when I was a really young kid. Video games were always fascinating to me.It was much the same with writing. When I was real young, I would make stick man comics in notebooks, and then give them to my family members as gifts.But really when it comes down to it, I see myself as a storyteller and both books and games are just different formats through which story can be told—in a very different format, but it's all storytelling when you come down to it.Michael Carychao: So when you got that first Atari do you remember the cartridges that came with it? What did you get? What games were you playing?Michael Coorlim: One of my favorites was Combat, a simple two player tank game.Michael Carychao: Yeah, with all the different variations.Michael Coorlim: All the different variations. That was one of the interesting things about the 2600 was that the cartridges would often have multiple modes of the same game. There were switches on the console that you could use to switch between them.I was a big fan of Berserk.Michael Carychao: What was its tagline? There was something they kept on saying like, "intruder alert?"Michael Coorlim: "Intruder alert, intruder alert." Well, that was more the arcade.Michael Carychao: The stand-up arcade game.Michael Coorlim: The Atari version didn't have the innards to make a noise. But yeah, "The intruder has escaped. The human has escaped." And if you ran away without killing them, they would start calling you a chicken instead. So they would say, "The chicken has escaped." It was one of the first games with a digitized voice chip.I was also a big fan of Pitfall. Very, very good Activision game from David Crane.Michael Carychao: Which way would you go, right or left?Michael Coorlim: You're kind of supposed to go right, but I would go left.  It was very interesting to me because you could go  either way. That was very interesting to me as a kid. There's the lower levels with—Michael Carychao: With the scorpion.Michael Coorlim: With the scorpions and everything.Michael Carychao: Scary.Michael Coorlim: There were brick walls and I figured out a way where I could glitch through the brick wall and keep running.Michael Carychao: No way. How did you do  that?Michael Coorlim: You just keep bumping into it and jumping into it a whole bunch. Eventually you'd go through the other side. Adventure was a lot of fun. That was the one where you're a little square cube running around and trying to avoid dragons that looked suspiciously like ducks.Michael Carychao: But that's all you'd need in those days, right?Michael Coorlim: Well it was.Michael Carychao: We didn't know it was going to come to this massive 3D landscape.Michael Coorlim: The graphics were so simple—even compared to the arcade games of the time—but if you look at the cartridges, they would have this fantastic artwork. You couldn't rely on the graphics to spark the imagination. But it was a very interesting time, the 80s, for console games, arcade games, computer games. That's what I grew up in and around. My mom would take me to arcades and she'd sit me in front of the machine. And I'd play the demo mode. I didn't know that I wasn't playing because I'm a little kid. There are lights and there are sounds and the characters are moving around and I figure, I gotta be doing it.Michael Carychao: I miss arcades. Those were wonderlands.Michael Coorlim: Yeah. There are some barcades around still...Michael Carychao: Nah. They're just like this onslaught of sound and lights. They just want your quick quarters—or your card. They don't seem to want to take you on that... adventure.Michael Coorlim: In Chicago, in the Bolingbrook, there is the Galloping Ghost one of the largest arcades in the world. And they have so many games going all the way back to Pong up to the modern games that have just been released. It's like this out-of-time kind of place.Michael Carychao: Man, that sounds awesome.Michael Coorlim: You go there, you give them $20. You can play as many games as you want for as long as you want. Michael Carychao: No Way.Michael Coorlim: Yeah. That's it. Can't go because of current conditions—Michael Carychao: Alas.Michael Coorlim: —but I went there for my friend's birthday last year and it was just amazing. It brought me back to being a kid again.Michael Carychao: Yeah. And that's what games do, is they bring us back to a simpler time through their rules of simplification and suddenly we can be kids again.Michael Coorlim: Right. When it comes to making games or writing books, even, that's what I try to do. I try to convey that sense of awe and wonder—whatever kind of emotional journey you're, trying to send people on. It's not always awe and wonder: it can be darker things, it can be lighter things. It can be more trivial, but just the idea of being able to take a stranger that you will never meet on some kind of emotional journey, or become a catalyst for them to have a journey of your own, it may be more appropriate to say—but that to me is a form of magic.There was something I read in Stephen King's book On Writing, where he compared it to telepathy. You're leaving a telepathic imprint in a physical medium that someone would come up later and pick up and would receive that message. So it is ultimately a form of communication and like all forms of communication it doesn't necessarily go the way you want it to go.Michael Carychao: True.Michael Coorlim: The story itself—the virtual, whatever you are creating—exists in the mind of the audience and at best—and I used this word before and I'll use it again—the writer or the artist, or whoever, can act as a catalyst to spark this, to allow the reader or player or viewer to go on this journey. I view it almost as a holy thing. Maybe It's the closest to divinity we can get. Maybe it's the closest kind of connection we can get.Michael Carychao: So, you've got this living room rug that's just full of Atari cartridges. What’s on your bookshelf?Michael Coorlim: I would take books from the classroom library cart. I would bring them home with me to read, because I was always reading. I was reading in classes where I perhaps shouldn't have been reading and perhaps should have been paying attention to other things, but I would be there, with a book hidden under my desk, ignoring what what was going on in the classroom, because, I was— to my detriment—I was bright enough to keep up with what was going without paying attention.So I never really developed good study habits as a kid. It gave me the time to become very, very well-read and I would read whatever was available to me. The classics, Robert Louis Stevenson, Treasure Island. I would read Alfred Hitchcock mystery collections, Sherlock Holmes. My grandparents had a big, huge trunk filled with Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. The old hardcover ones that don't really have picture covers just very, very plain brown books with embossed titles. I would just tear through those. I would go to the library almost every day after school and just work my way through the science fiction and fantasy shelves. Ray Bradbury was one of  my favorite authors growing up. The way he wrote that collection he wrote about Mars.Michael Carychao: The Martian Chronicles.Michael Coorlim: The Martian Chronicles. I wanted to say Martian Dreams, but that was something completely different: one of the Ultima spin-off games.Michael Carychao: Ultima. Ultima IV.Michael Coorlim: Oh, Ultima IV, that was—Michael Carychao: Turning point.Michael Coorlim: I was a big fan of those, too. The Martian Chronicles was huge for me. How evocative he managed to be. Something Wicked This Way Comes out of The Illustrated Man. His short stories really are one of the things that convinced me that, "Hey, maybe I could be a writer myself." They were great, but they were also accessible. You know, I started writing short stories. When I was older, when I had progressed beyond drawing stickman comics for my family members, I would be writing as much as I was reading, because I wanted—I had been brought so much pleasure, so much emotional journey through this books that I wanted to be able to do that for other people, too.I always intended, throughout high school even, to submit stories for publication, but I never went and did it. I would go so far as to write away for the writing guidelines from different markets. I would read the Writer's Digest and say, "Okay, this is what you do, this is how you become a writer. Okay. Well, let me do this." And I would get to the point of writing away for those documents, and then I'd never take the next step.Michael Carychao: What happened there? Why do you think you didn't put the letter in the mail?  Michael Coorlim: I think part of it was the fear of rejection. Everyone has always told me that I'm this great writer: my parents, my teachers, other kids, but if I sent something away and it was rejected, then that would be proof that I wasn't. I didn't want that dream to die.I think that held me back a little bit. And part of it was that I was much more interested in writing news stories than I was in revising my old stories. I knew if I was going to go through the effort of sending them away, it had to be putting my best self forward.It took me a long time to get to the point that I understood the role of revision when it comes to writing. And that revision is writing.Michael Carychao: What did it take to be able to turn your attention back on a story and give it that revision?Michael Coorlim: This is a bit of a longer story. I spent most of my twenties living out of a suitcase. Just traveling around the country, kind of aimless, not really sure of what I wanted to do in life. There's a way that, when you're living so close to the bone, it kind of grinds you down. It wears away all of your most interesting features. So I didn't have the energy to write anymore. I basically went a whole decade with barely any kind of creative output whatsoever. It's not that nothing happened to me. I don't consider it to be a lost decade because I had a lot of life experiences that gave me the ability to draw from, for my work, a lot of emotional experiences. There's the writing chestnut, "Write what you know." I consider that to be about emotional understanding.  I had to fill my emotional bank with experiences that I could later write about. So I go through this decade of not writing, of just living; inhaling so I could exhale later. It wasn't a great time in my life. I’ll fully admit that. I think it was necessary. I think it was valuable. But I wasn’t having the time of my life.Michael Carychao: Can you give us a string of city names, something to ground us here on this journey of your twenties?Michael Coorlim: When I moved out of my parents' home—and we'd been living in a suburb of Chicago, we were up in Gurney, nobody knows where that is, up North, near the Wisconsin border—I moved to Pueblo, Colorado with some friends who were moving out there. I wasn't getting along with my stepfather and they were moving and they said, "Hey, why don't we move out together?"And I'm like, "Okay, let's do it." I move out there. I move out with my girlfriend and these friends of ours who we're a couple and we move out to Pueblo. All of us, this is our first time living on our own. So it doesn't go very well. You know, there are a lot of mistakes that you make along the way to becoming an adult. And we made them. It doesn’t go very well, but we stayed there for a while. I can date this fairly accurately.I was working third shift in a call center. And I remember being woken up one morning—on my day off—and being told, "We can't deliver your new mattress because of that thing that happened in New York.""What thing that happened in New York?""Oh, you didn't know?" And this was 9/11.That moment I can date perfectly. Everyone knows where they were when this happened. I found out a couple hours later because the mattress guy woke me up to tell me what was happening.From there, I moved back to Illinois for a little bit, and then I move out again. And then I move out to Southern California. I was living in Anaheim for a while, working in a warehouse, for a company that sold merchandise for bands that didn't want to bother with having to sell their own merchandise. I don't think it exists anymore, but it was merch.com. I was brought on to do customer support email stuff, but mostly I ended up folding t-shirts in a warehouse because there wasn't a lot of email to deal with. After that I lived in Florida for a couple of years, moved to Seminole, Florida, which is on the coast, right near Clearwater and St. Petersburg. I didn't really enjoy Florida very much. It's not a great state.  And I spent most of it indoors because I don't deal with heat very well; so here I am in Florida! I think I went to the beach twice the whole time I lived there.And then I lived in Oregon, up in Eugene, Oregon. They made fun of me for the way I said "Ore-gone," when I moved there—which was great. I did love it though. It was very nice, very green, very emerald. Rained all the time.At one point I was in St. Louis. But eventually, I moved back to the Chicago Area.Michael Carychao: So, what keeps you moving back to Chicago? Is it Gino's Pizza? What is it?Michael Coorlim: It's just this homing instinct I have. I've always loved the city. When I was a teenager, I loved coming into the city on weekends to see shows at The Metro or The Vic or wherever. It always just seemed to be this magical place: the Big City.There’s a certain sort of living, especially in the Midwest where there’s where you live and then there’s The Big City. I think a lot of people grow up that way where there's The Big City nearby. And for me that was Chicago. So I'm couch surfing while looking for work, looking for a place to live, staying in my friend's couches, basically I'm homeless at this point. Still living out of a suitcase, but this time the suitcase isn't someplace that I'm renting. It's just whoever's good will I'm burning through that week, you know? I'm not a bad guest, but you don't want to be a guest for too long.  One day, rather than send out another fleet of job applications that will disappear into the void, why don't I start writing again? I've heard recently about  the rise of self-publishing about Amazon KDP. You can write through Barnes and Noble, Smashwords. All of these things that had kind of flitted past my consciousness. And I haven't written in a while, but I decide it's not any worse a use of my time.So, I decide to start writing and I write a short story. The first thing I do with the story, this is a story about the end of the world—a party at the end of the world, in fact. Before I decided to take the self publishing route, I sent it off to Lightspeed Magazine.The first story I've ever submitted and I get a personalized rejection note. And that's big to me because I've studied enough of this to know that when they stop sending you form rejections, you're almost there.And this is my first submission.Michael Carychao: So, what did the editor say?Michael Coorlim: He said it was, "Brutal in a Lord of the Flies kind of way. An almost."Michael Carychao: “Sharpen a stick at both ends.”Michael Coorlim: Yeah, it was... I was pleased. I had a big spreadsheet full of the markets I wanted to send stories to. I'm deciding to go to the next one when I remember about that whole self-publishing thing. And I'm like, "Well, why don't I try that instead?" And so I do. I put it up on Amazon. I think it makes $10 by the end of the month. This little short story I'd written—but this is real money. I begin to see the possibilities here.I start writing more. I don't know exactly what I'm doing here. I decide to just start creating a number of different pen names to create stories in a number of different genres. To throw it all against the wall and see what...
67 minutes | Feb 24, 2021
The World According to Donna Grosvenor
Michael Carychao: [00:00:08] Welcome to the fourth episode of The World According To, a podcast that explores the unique worldviews of amazing people. In this episode I had the great pleasure of visiting the world according to Donna Grosvenor. We talk about her adventures as a photographer for National Geographic in the sixties, about being a yoga teacher with a flexible attitude towards perfection, about living with cancer, about the importance of love, and so much more . . . I hope you enjoy this conversation as much as I did. Welcome to the world according to Donna Grosvenor.Welcome, Donna Grosvenor.Donna Grosvenor: [00:00:58] Well, it's always been a delight because I've been speaking with you for a lot of years.Michael Carychao: [00:01:02] I feel like our conversation has continued even in our absences.Donna Grosvenor: [00:01:07] Oh, it has, because we have all these connections through my daughter and through your sister, who is my other daughter and lives here in Santa Fe with your beautiful mother. I have all those connections to you and your lovely wife and your boys.Michael Carychao: [00:01:23] Can you tell us about your name?Donna Grosvenor: [00:01:28] Well, I've never paid very much attention to heritage. I have to tell you that. But, I do know that William de Grosvenor was with William the Conqueror in 1066. And I guess the name means Fat Hunter. So I guess he was in charge of the hunting for William the Conqueror. I also have Scottish roots. My maiden name, Kerkam, was three generations in the District of Columbia, in Washington, DC.Michael Carychao: [00:02:01] So you've been a photographer pretty much all your life. Is that right?Donna Grosvenor: [00:02:06] I wasn't even an amateur photographer, Michael. I went to work for the Geographic after college and met my husband, Gilbert, and we started doing assignments for National Geographic together. And the Geographic photo department decided it would be a great thing if I learned how to take pictures, because I could photograph women that Gilbert couldn't even talk to. You know, this was the 1960s and there were lots of places where women were very sheltered from any publicity or advertising or magazine people. And so I was taken under the wing of the photographers at Geographic, and they taught me how to shoot. I really loved it and I got into it deeply. The head of photography, Bob Gilka, decided he would send me to the Missouri Photo Workshop, which is still going on. It's, I think, in its 70th year.They would send top photographers from all over the country to a small town in Missouri, a different town every year and the 39 or so participants would be chosen to go to this workshop as students to learn how to do "truth in photography" shooting. There were no posing of pictures. There was no setup allowed. Of course, it's all pre-digital. Photography was very different then. They chose a town called Marshall, Missouri. I was sent there and I had to pick a story to do that was sort of representative of the town. You had to get permission from the person you wanted to shoot the story about, and then you had to get approval from all these top photographers who had come from Life and Look magazine and all these places all around the country to be the faculty at this workshop. It was a week long. I started subscribing to the Marshall, Missouri newspaper about two months before the workshop. I was, of course, petrified because I was a new photographer. I hadn't been shooting very long.So we went to Marshall, Missouri. I remember getting up at four o'clock in the morning to line up to get my story approved, because I knew other people might be wanting to do the same story, which was on the country veterinarian, because it was a rural community. Lots of cows and pigs and horses.I was first in line and I got approval and I started following this country vet. You couldn't set up anything, but you could shoot three rolls of film that you turned in at the end of the day and it was processed. Then you'd meet with all the faculty and the students after dinner and they would critique the photographs that had come in and whether it was furthering your story or your essay. And it was brutal. I mean, it was really brutal. But I learned a great deal and I made several new friends and I did get a couple of pictures chosen for the final exhibit. But it was really a trial by fire. But it was very educational. It was very educational.The most important lesson is "F/8 and Be There." You have to get up early and go and you have to be there to get the photographs.‍Michael Carychao: [00:05:36] What were some of the lessons that you learned from those workshops? What did the fire teach you?Donna Grosvenor: [00:05:44] The most important lesson is "F/8 and Be There."You have to get up early and go and you have to be there to get the photographs. This was a time when—you know, now you can reshoot everything on your phone or on your digital camera, but then you couldn't do it. If you missed it, you missed it.So you had to really plan ahead and you really had to have to know what you were aiming for. You had to have an essay in mind. That was great training to do that. I remember following the vet, but I had to ask him first. He was quite attractive. The first thing he did was, he said, "I have to have you meet my wife."So I had to get the approval of the vet's wife to follow him around for a week.I had to get up at four o'clock in the morning every day to go out and vaccinate pigs and castrate horses and do all these things that I ended up having to do. It was really very, very enlightening.I was following him around and we went one day to a cattle auction where he was the visiting vet at the cattle auction. I was walking back among the stalls, where they kept all the animals, and this piglet escaped from one of the stalls. And I, being as naive as I was, carrying my cameras on my shoulder, tried to stop this pig that was running down the aisle.And this little piglet upended me in about five seconds and I crashed onto the concrete, my cameras falling on all sides, and I took the skin off both my knees. The vet—my vet—came and sprayed my knees with gentian violet, which I don't know if you know about it? It's purple—Michael Carychao: [00:07:43] I don't know about it.Donna Grosvenor: [00:07:43] —and it does not come off.And so when I got back to the Geographic at the end of my photo workshop, Bob Gilka got on the elevator, the day I got in the elevator to go up. He didn't say anything. He just reached over and lifted up the edge of my skirt to see the gentian violet and that's all he needed to do because I found out that he was following everything I was doing at the workshop by just that one gesture.Michael Carychao: [00:08:19] Right.Donna Grosvenor: [00:08:19] He was the legendary head of photography at Geographic. He championed women photographers in those days. This was in the sixties and there were not many of us that were out there shooting on assignment. So that was one of my favorite stories about the Geographic, was Bob Gilka lifting up my skirt and not saying a thing.Michael Carychao: [00:08:44] You could tell it all from that gesture.Donna Grosvenor: [00:08:46] You really could.Michael Carychao: [00:08:48] When you're going around on those trips with the veterinarian and you're looking for pictures, what pictures pop out? What images were you looking for?Donna Grosvenor: [00:08:57] You had to have a sense of what his life was like, what his daily life was like. He started very early and he would go out and he would wear a vest that had syringes and all sorts of things in the pockets, a multi-pocketed vest. He would pull out the syringe and give them a vaccination.Then he would pull out the knife and cut off the testicles of the pigs and he even gelded a horse while I was there. Those were his sort of typical days. I had pictures of him at the end, walking home with his dog following behind him. It was to give a picture of what his life was like, on a daily basis. But you didn't know from one day to the next what he was going to be doing.I remember one time we were going to somebody's farm and there was a fence to climb over. The farmer, who was there with us, reached over to help me get over the fence. My veterinarian said, "She doesn't need your help. She can handle herself." That was a nice indication that he figured I was okay and I could do my job. The first thing you learn as a woman photographer is: you better carry your own equipment. You don't ask the guys to carry your cameras. Ever.The first thing you learn as a woman photographer is: you better carry your own equipment. You don't ask the guys to carry your cameras. Ever.Michael Carychao: [00:10:25] It's hard to put yourself back into the sixties.Donna Grosvenor: [00:10:31] It's really hard. The thing is that photography was so different. It was so different. When you went out on assignment, the cheapest commodity was your film, because there was no digital and there was no instant processing. We had to find a pilo—when we were in remote places, in Asia—we'd have to find a Pan-Am pilot who was willing to take our film from us and deliver it to the Geographic.And then we had photo editors at Geographic who would see the processed film and let us know, by cable or long distance phone call, that we'd gotten the pictures for whatever event it was. We were photographing in tropical places. You had to find a way to keep your film cool, because it could be ruined.We had to wait days to find out if we got the pictures we were taking. And most of those things were one-shot deals, like the Perahera in Sri Lanka, which was a hundred decorated elephants parading in the streets for this festival. You either got the pictures or you didn't. You were either in the right spot or you weren't.It was very challenging.Michael Carychao: [00:11:55] What's it like to shoot blind like that? Do you feel like you're taking pictures differently now that it's a digital age?Donna Grosvenor: [00:12:02] Oh, sure. Because everybody's doing it now, and it's instant results; but then, you had no idea. So film was your cheapest commodity. We shot a lot of film.Michael Carychao: [00:12:15] Is there anything that was an advantage to not having the instant feedback of the picture?Donna Grosvenor: [00:12:25] I would say it kept you on your toes. It definitely kept us on alert. You have to remember that a lot of the places were very exotic places. People were not traveling everywhere. If you were going to Sri Lanka when it was called Ceylon, nobody had been there taking color pictures for 30 years.They had a new government that was coming in, a democratic government after the communist government. So they were eager to have us be there. We had access that we probably would never have had without that. Of course, Geographic got access because we were nonpolitical. That gave you access in places you couldn't have gotten into. It was very exciting and stressful all at the same time. I actually had been to a couple of places in the North of Bali where they hadn't seen white women. It was just a different world, Michael. It was thrilling for me. I loved every minute of it.We were doing these assignments together that, if I knew how to take pictures, I could photograph women where there were still many places where women were protected from strangers, and particularly men.I could photograph women where there were still many places where women were protected from strangers, and particularly men.Michael Carychao: [00:13:53] What did you see? What did you get access to in the lives of women that otherwise wouldn't have been seen?Donna Grosvenor: [00:14:02] Everything. Because women's lives are pretty much alike, even in places where they have fewer rights and fewer privileges in the sixties. All the same demands were on women: to have the children and to bear the children and to raise the children. We all had common interests and that was very, very helpful. It gave me access.Where there was a language barrier, body language always helps. There was a lot of curiosity and it was a very amazing time because so many of the places that I went had not been photographed or done. The first thing we did was to go on the Nile on the boat called the Yankee with Exy and Irving Johnson who sailed their boat on the Nile for a story for Geographic.We joined that trip and sailed the Nile and this was just at the time when the Aswan Dam was being built. All these villages along the Nile were being evacuated because the water was going to flood them all. We got to walk in these villages that were deserted. The only thing they had to leave behind were their dogs. There were all these wild dogs running around in these villages that were going to be flooded. Signs of their domestic life were everywhere. But there were no people.Signs of their domestic life were everywhere. But there were no people.‍Michael Carychao: [00:15:45] Right.Donna Grosvenor: [00:15:46] Nobody. As we were sailing the Nile, it was just at the time when they were talking about relocating the temple of Abu Simbel—you know, Ramsey the Second and Nefertari—their temple in Nubia on the Nile was going to be flooded like so many famous temples.They were just starting to discuss how to disassemble Abu Simbel and rebuild it on a higher ground so that it would survive. It was part of the precursor to a lot of temple-saving all over the world because it worked so well.I got hoisted off the bowsprit of the Yankee at the feet of Abu Simbel. It was quite an amazing experience. That was in 1964-5.And then we went to Africa with the Leakey family after that and had wonderful experiences with Louis and Mary Leakey and Richard Leakey, who is now the sort of the older generation of that family. He's still alive and has fought against the ivory trade and all those things—and had his plane blown up.These were the days when, in Nairobi, the streets were all dirt roads still. And two minutes outside of Nairobi, you were in country that had wild game in it. The new Stanley Hotel—literally there was a dirt driveway up to the door. Ten years later I went back; I wouldn't have known where I was.I got hoisted off the bowsprit of the Yankee at the feet of Abu Simbel.Michael Carychao: [00:17:39] You really got to see this transformation.Donna Grosvenor: [00:17:42] I really did. If you've ever seen Out of Africa, the film, I got to see it just about those days—a little bit later. It was still a wild place and it has become much more urbanized, but it was still wild with their roads right up to the door of the new Stanley Hotel.When I first went there in 64. 63, I guess.I wasn't doing the story on the Leakey family, other photographers were doing it. We were there having a trip to meet them and familiarize ourselves. We became very close with Richard at that point and have stayed close with him and our daughter, your friend, Lexie stayed with the family. She named her daughter Samira, which is the name of Richard's daughter—one of his daughters. And they became friends. So that was a lovely connection that was maintained over the years.The first stories we did were the Nile and Africa with the Leaky's, but we also did a story on Monaco in 1963 and then in Copenhagen in 1964. I remember going to a spa in Copenhagen where they made all the women's strip and jump in this cold pool. Hanging on a rope and jumping in a cold pool. That was a whole new experience me.I remember going to a spa in Copenhagen where they made all the women's strip and jump in this cold pool.Then after that we did a story on Sri Lanka, which was still called Ceylon in 1966. No one had done color photographs of it. They had a new westward-leaning prime minister, Dudley Senanayake. And so we had absolute access to the whole country and it is the most beautiful, spectacular place.There were events like the Perahera with a hundred decorated elephants. I remember once they put me on the back of an elephant and that elephant wanted to go in the water and there was nothing I could do to keep it from going in the water. And the mahouts had to come and help him get out of the water, but I was wet to the hips before they turned him around. That was really exciting.Michael Carychao: [00:20:15] When you're on assignment like this, do you go back to the States in between?Donna Grosvenor: [00:20:19] No. It's usually a month or two. A month or two full-tilt. And of course in those days there was no way to buy anything you needed that you didn't have with you from film to personal effects to anything. If you hadn't brought it, you weren't going to get it.If you hadn't brought it, you weren't going to get it.Michael Carychao: [00:20:39] What did your travel kit look like? What were some of the essential items?Donna Grosvenor: [00:20:43] Well, you had to be absolutely sure if you needed any medications, which I didn't then. You had to have that with you. You had to be sure all your camera equipment and film were there. That was the most important thing. And you had to have very wearable, washable clothing and very little of it.You went lean and mean.You went lean and mean. Now, you had an extra pair of shoes, for working. That was always critical. And, you had to know— mean, we did a lot of research before we went on these trips. So we knew what the temperatures were likely to be. We knew what altitudes it was going to be, and we prepared accordingly.Michael Carychao: [00:21:24] So what does this research look like? Are you at National Geographic? Do they have a Research facility?Donna Grosvenor: [00:21:30] Oh, sure they do. We have researchers who will help you look up stuff and there's a library and there's all of that. They were doing research and we knew what the big events were going to be. You know, you have to do a lot of homework...
75 minutes | Jan 1, 2021
The World According to Alison OK Frost
‍Welcome to the third episode of The World According To, a podcast that explores the unique worldviews of amazing people. In this episode, I had the pleasure of visiting the world according to Alison OK Frost, an artist who takes troubling social and environmental images, and transforms them into delicate watercolors and post-apocalyptic scenes. These haunting and beautiful paintings help her and those who meditate upon her work to process the trauma of our times. We talk about painting in urban encampments, the importance of surrounding yourself with the right colors, teaching art classes over zoom, building a creative practice in isolation, and so much more. I hope you enjoyed this conversation as much as I did. Welcome to the world according to Alison OK Frost.Names - 1:11Michael Carychao: Can you tell us about your name?Alison OK Frost: My maiden name, or my given name, is Alison Offill-Klein. I found when I was trying to kind of make art—you know, I tried shortening it to Alison Klein. You can't google Allison Klein, there's just too many. And I was having trouble with curators not being able to pronounce or spell my name. So when I got married to someone whose last name was Frost, which is very easy to pronounce, and spell, I took his name. But I wanted to keep some of where I come from. So I shortened Offill-Klein to OK.MC: How does it feel to try on the effect of different last names?AOK: That's a really interesting question. I feel like all of my last names have had cultural baggage for them. So if you see that I have a hyphenated last name automatically you're going to assume I'm from a coast, my parents are college educated. There's also something I didn't really think about until I moved to the Bay Area is that Klein is a very Jewish last name. Which I had never thought of one way or another when I was living in LA, or New York, just because there are large Jewish populations in it, it isn't a big deal. And then when I moved to the Bay Area, it seemed like, all of a sudden, there was a little bit of othering that happened. It felt a little weird in a way to change my name to more of a waspy last name. I sort of asked myself the questions, "Am I white-washing myself here?" And, "What, what does that mean?"MC:   And yet, you've got OK in the middle, which is the opposite of having a normal name, it's actually an invitation, it seems to me, for people to challenge your—you know, you're obviously excellent—and so to challenge your moniker of OK.AOK: I think it's really funny too, just because I have a lot of friends who are old punk rockers and they've got these last names like Dismal or Landmine, you know? I thought it was so funny to just have a completely value-neutral moniker.All right, I am gonna put him up.Rocco - 3:33MC: So that was Rocco.AOK: That was Rocco. Yeah.MC: Rocco seems kind of on the young side.AOK: He is. He actually showed up at my house last December. He was a very young, very skinny Pitbull, you know, mangy, covered in fleas, under-fed.MC:  And you took him in.AOK:  I didn't mean to. I was like, "Okay, you can stay in my backyard for one night." But I didn't want to take him to the shelter. Because there's so many pits there. And I didn't want him to be put down. Yeah, so he's been with me for about a year. I think he might be about two years old, something like that. And he's turned into such a joy. I mean, he's a lot. Especially with lockdown and quarantine and staying in my house. It's really nice to have this big idiot dog who loves me.MC: I know. Those big idiot dogs are just full of love.AOK:  Definitely.MC:  Cats have lots of questions. With their questioning eyes; dogs, no questions.AOK: No questions. Just unconditional love.Discovering Watercolors - 5:55MC: I'm really interested in digging into your artwork.AOK:  Yeah. Absolutely.MC: Your artistic expression has gone on for years. Your style is amazingly consistent. I'm really curious how it all started.AOK: Let's see. Well, I've always painted. You know, I was one of those kids. In some ways, I've had a lot of attention deficit problems my whole life. But when I'm drawing—from the age of like, four—something . . . When I was drawing, I could focus in a way that I can't really on anything else. I've always drawn. I was doing big oil paintings for a while. I started having problems with my vision when I was about 27, something like that. And all of a sudden, the paintings I had been doing weren't working. The way I was perceiving the world, visually, wasn't lending itself to making these large oil paintings. So I started making really terrible paintings. I don't know if you've ever gone through one of those phases where you're like, "Man, I just got to make this terrible painting"?MC:  All the time.AOK: So I had a year or two of just awful oil paintings. You know, they were a bit, you know: they're embarrassing. But then, one day, I thought: I think I want to try watercolors. I actually had a show coming up. I had to deliver work for a show in something like ten days, which is the worst time possible to switch mediums. But I was like, "Yeah, I think it's time."MC: You picked up watercolors just a week-and-a-half before you were going to exhibit those watercolors?AOK:  I did. Yeah. I mean, it was a group show. But, yeah. And it just clicked. I feel like I was led to this medium. My first painting was terrible. My second painting was pretty bad. And then the third painting, I was like, "I think I'm onto something here." I think it works really well, because my subject matter tends to be really heavy. And watercolors are really light. There's a sort of light joyousness to the medium that I think is a really good balance for what I'm doing paintings of.MC: Yeah, and just to describe your style, it strikes me as very light. Lots of washes, lots of letting the page come through, lots of blank page, in fact, around the subjects. Very muted colors. Very realistic style. It seems like you have done plenty of work on an underdrawing of some kind. But the rendering is very gentle. At the same time, your subject matter is pretty dark. It makes for an interesting contrast. You have lots of urban camping, homeless scenes, riot police, medical personnel in robes wearing masks. There's one of people in hazmat suits getting washed down in kiddie tubs. There are soldiers farming and the super haunting ballerinas in masks. How did you come to that subject matter?Collecting Images - 8:25AOK: Before I actually started painting those pictures, I had been collecting them for years out of newspapers. I work a lot from photographs, so often a big part of my process is just collecting. I mean, we live in such a great time for fetishizing photographs. Because if you're looking for a picture of people in hazmat suits, you can find seven hundred very easily. And then cull them down to your favorite twenty-four. And then, test them out and find like the two or three that are going to make exactly the painting that you want. So I already had these images, just in files. I had files full of these terrible images and a lot of things that were also sort of dark and disturbing, but didn't end up being successful in paintings. I had been drawn to the subject matter, but I just wasn't sure how to address it in art. But I knew that I needed to do that.MC: So the collecting came first.AOK: The collecting came first. MC: Newspapers, magazines, physical media—like that? Are there places that you go online? Apps?AOK: I mostly use Google Image Search.MC: And then how do you collect them? Do you just download them and have your hard drive full?Painting Process - 10:30AOK: Yeah, I download them. And then I make them very small. I take all the resolution out of these beautiful pictures and print them up on pretty crappy printers. So I have small terrible pictures, and I print them out and cut them up. I print them out like six to a page or something like that, because I'm really looking to strip the sharpness, strip the virtuosity of the photograph out of it. Because that allows me to reinvent that part on my own. Because I think the way our minds work, whatever information is not there, we're going to finish ourselves when we're looking at something. So I want to give myself as much opportunity to finish things as possible. And then also give my viewers that same opportunity. You know, when you look at them from far away, they look pretty realistic. But when you get close, there are pools of watercolor and sediment separating and you know, drying lines and things like that, which then allows the viewer to sort of insert themselves into the image.MC: Actually, you're very generous to your viewers in how much you leave to their imagination. Is that difficult to pull off? How do you keep yourself from imposing too much on your pictures?AOK: I have a really strong desire for people to insert themselves to not "other" these scenes. I've been doing these paintings of people wearing masks, and sort of protecting themselves from their surroundings for however many years and then, all of a sudden, this year the whole world started looking like that.MC:  I know. It makes me look through your paintings again, and be like, "Oh, okay, what's next?"AOK: Right, what's next? Yeah. I wanted people to have that experience of, when you look in a newspaper and you see a terrible flood in Malaysia or something like that, you're like, "Well, that that's over there that's happening to those people." And I really wanted to consciously strip away any sort of descriptions that would allow you to say, "Oh, that's someplace else, that someone else."MC: That's right. There's very little background. It's mainly subject.Painting Urban Campers - 12:07AOK: Right. Yeah. And then the other part of that is: I'm really interested in the humanity and the historical moments. Because it's easy, in American history class in high school, or something like that, we're learning about, "Oh, there was this war." And, "There was this army fighting for this, and there was this army fighting for that." But then when you break it down to the individuals, each one has their own story and their own kind of universe that they're living in. And it usually has very little to do with the cause of the war, or the reasons that we're given for why these things are happening.If you can somehow isolate that humanity, then it's a lot easier to insert yourself into these moments where we don't feel separate from them. A couple years ago, I did fifty paintings of, as you say, urban campers. That was actually a really amazing kind of turning point in my life, just as a human being in the world, because I didn't want to be voyeuristic about it. So I was going into encampments, and talking to people and asking them if it would be okay if I took pictures of their dwellings and in the process I ended up making friends and making connections in different encampments. And bringing Phoenix with me, and she was making friends in the camps. We were just having a really great experience.I would try to bring water, clean socks, baby wipes, things like that, so that it wasn't just me taking something. That's been really amazing, getting to know people and a lot of people who are living in the streets—and I think there are maybe thirty thousand in Oakland, or something like that—would like to tell their story, would like to explain—you know, not everyone I mean . . . there's not one unhoused personality or something. But showing up and being open to hearing what people wanted to talk to me about was really cool. And I actually ended up, through that project, getting involved with a mutual aid group in East Oakland, where I live.MC: What group is that?AOK: It's called East Oakland Burrito Roll. When we started we would just get together a few times a month and make burritos. You know: get rice and beans and everything from the food bank, mostly. Because a burrito is kind of a perfect meal, you know?MC: Totally. Food tube.AOK: Yeah. So we would make burritos and then pass them out at different encampments. This year we ended up hooking up with World Central Kitchen, which allowed us to actually buy restaurant meals. Some some days we were distributing as many as one thousand restaurant meals,MC: How is the artistic urge in those places?AOK: Sometimes it's as simple as people really taking pride and effort to decorate their camp: putting flowers out, signs out. I remember seeing Warriors flags on tents when the Warriors were in the playoffs. But I met a lot of artists as well, people who are painting in or around their tents, especially in Mosswood, for some reason. Mosswood Park seems to sort of attract a lot of artists. Some people wanted to give me art or trade art, which was really cool. So I have, in my studio, a smal— a very small—art collection.Empathy Porn - 15:51MC: Tell me about the difference in taking your own pictures, and working from those sorts of material, versus collecting someone else's photograph.AOK: Yeah. Well, one thing that's different is, when I'm working from other people's photographs, I tend to have people in the pictures and I'm looking for the humanity in pictures of people. When I was doing the pictures from the encampments there, there are no people in those pictures.Part of that is I really didn't want to make paintings that were manipulative. I wanted to show ingenuity. I wanted to show pride. I wanted to show humanity without making a painting that would make . . . there's a way of presenting people who have less than you that lets people look at them, see it, feel something, feel some kind of pain or some kind of connection, and then they feel better, they feel let off the hook a little bit.The one that makes me the angriest is Schindler's List. I've been mad about that movie for twenty-five years, or something, from the first, you know, from when I saw it in the theater when I was sixteen, or whatever. I felt like people could go, they could cry about what had happened during the Holocaust. They could convince themselves that, had they been there, they would have been one. They would have been a Schindler. They would have been someone who helped. And then when they leave, they're off the hook. They don't have to think about anti-semitism. They don't have to think about how prejudice or how these things hurt the world. And they don't have to think about how that's ricocheted down in terms of generational trauma, or how it's still happening behind closed doors today. I don't want to make empathy porn.MC:  In Schindler's List, where did they go wrong? Do you have a feeling for that? Was it in the art direction? Was it the story? Was it too pat?AOK:  A lot of it is the music. Music can be really manipulative. If it had been more stark—I just think that difficult subjects should be difficult to watch. I don't think you should be able to have a feel-good experience about a story like the Holocaust, you know? We see it a lot today with urban movies. It's just an exercise into allowing people to feel like, "Well, I'm not like that. I'm not contributing to this problem." And the truth is: we're all contributing to all of the problems every day.MC: We live in a saccharin society that likes to coat as much sugar around the bitter pills as possible.AOK:  Yeah, absolutely.MC:  It's nice to strip that away. The clue about music is really interesting. I can see how, when you leave space in a soundtrack, you're letting the viewer's emotion, the listener's emotion, insert into the story, much like negative space does in a painting. If you crowd it with swell upon swell of symphonic tones, your emotion is on rails. Is there a visual equivalent that could have happened in that movie?AOK: What if it wasn't shot on beautiful thirty-five millimeter? What if it was shot on Super Eight, or the kind of film stock they used for sports in the 70s. Something where you're taking out that richness and that beauty. Some people who are trying to work with these parameters use black and white, but I feel like black and white can add its own kind of romanticism.MC:  Totally. I'm in black and white right now.AOK: You are, yes.Feeling Big Feelings - 20:00MC: I felt very romantic when I was putting that up. I've been playing with my setup so much. The filters are fun. But the filters are dangerous, too. Because you don't want to filter out authentic emotion and connection and all these things. So how do you, moving through the world, in this year—a very difficult year emotionally—how do you filter out the difficult emotions and yet stay open enough that you're not disconnected from the authentic experience?AOK: Hmm. I meditate a lot. I do specific meditations for feeling feelings. Also: I can't feel feelings all day. It's too much for me. So I also read a lot and watch a lot of Netflix. As you know, I have a seven year old daughter, Phoenix, who has a lot of big feelings. I also teach Middle School. So I have about two-hundred-and-fifty eleven to thirteen-year-old students.MC: Lots of feeling there as well.AOK:  Right. So, I think part of my work this year is being okay with my big feelings and acknowledging them and sometimes even saying, "I'm uncomfortable and that's okay. I'm going to stay with this discomfort." And then I'm going to move away from this discomfort because I can't stay in it. But then also giving space for Phoenix and also for my students, where I'm not . . . I think there is a tendency among adults, probably more so in our parents generation, to say, "It's okay, you're okay. Don't cry, you're okay." And I think that for me, as an adult being around children a lot, one of my goals or things that I strive for is just saying, "You're having a big feeling. Do you want to talk about that feeling? What do...
79 minutes | Dec 11, 2020
The World According to Mirza Inayat Khan
0:00 - IntroMichael Carychao: Welcome to the second episode of The World According To, a podcast that explores the unique worldviews of amazing people. In this episode, I had the pleasure of visiting the world according to Mirza Inayat Khan, a great friend, whose rich mythological and spiritual insights always leave me feeling good, even when, or perhaps especially when we touch on dark themes. We talk about angels, Rilke, Borges, reggae, David Bowie, dreams, weathering depression during the pandemic, and many other unbelievable infinities. I hope you enjoy this conversation as much as I did. Welcome to the world according to Mirza Inayat Khan.0:58 - NamesWelcome Mirza Inayat Khan. Can you tell us about your name? Mirza Inayat Khan: Yes, I'd be happy to. It's a long story and a long name.When I was born, my father named me and my brother, Seraphiel and Kerubiel. Actually, I was Kerubiel and my brother was Seraphiel. And we were named after two paintings in the Hagia Sophia mosque, in Istanbul. This was an old Christian church in the Eastern Roman Empire. When the Muslims took over, they covered up all the iconography, except for these two angels, because they were not very figurative. They were more symbolic pictures. These two angels, Seraphiel and Kerubiel—Seraphiel is the Archangel of Light and Kerubiel is the Archangel of Fire. An interesting name, right? And one that I had, when I was a young child. There's something intriguing about that idea, for me, of angels being not these innocent little baby creatures, but instead these awesome, frightening, powerful, sometimes destructive beings. You know, there's that line of Rilke I love. That is, "Every angel is terrifying." Rilke calls on the angels, knowing that they can destroy him, destroy his life, or his self, his sense of self, maybe his false self or his ego.There's another line from somewhere in the scriptures. I'm not sure where it is. It might be in the Letter to the Hebrews, where it says that the Cherubim, the Angels of Fire, are allowed the closest to God's presence, because only they can withstand God who is a raging inferno. It’s an interesting way of looking at angels. That was a name that I grew up with when I was very young. Then at some point, my parents thought that I would want to change my name and so they preemptively changed my name to another name, which I didn't care for that much. And so later, when I sort of came into my own and was able to make the decision for myself, I chose the name Mirza. It's an interesting choice because it's the least descriptive possible name. It is more of a title than a name. I guess I was seeking a little bit less meaning, seeking something that was a little bit more anonymous. And that name, Mirza, just means "secretary," someone that can read and hold an office, anything from a secretary like a typist or a scribe, all the way up to a secretary of state. It's often a title given to the second son. I, myself, am the second son. The first child might be the Amir himself, the prince himself. And the second one would be the Amirzade, the little Amir, not old enough to inherit the title, but still a man of letters. I think that's an apt description of me. And, of course, the latter parts of my name refer to my family that's from Central Asia, hence the name Khan, which is also its title. And Inayat, who was my grandfather, and who is really the pivotal figure in my family and so, since his life and his work as a spiritual teacher, everyone in my family has taken on his name as being part of a khandan, part of a tribe associated with his lineage and his work.I often wonder about how names work, and whether a name describes the reality or the person or whether the name, in some way influences the reality of the person to conform to the expectations of that name. I've always enjoyed naming children and pets. I love to name to name things.06:00 - The Number Two MC: You spoke of being the second son. Tell us what the number two has meant to you. The idea of first and second, primus and secundus?MIK: Yes, that's a good question. One that I haven't thought of before. There was a kind of a dark joke that I heard this morning on another podcast, Trevor Noah. He was talking about this recent news of the Iranian nuclear scientist who was just assassinated, who was the premier nuclear scientist in Iran. Trevor made a joke to all the kids out there—that you should never try to be number one.And in a way that joke, is a little bit about how I feel being the second son, is that my brother inherited my father's teaching role, and all of the responsibility of our family lineage. His destiny was a wonderful destiny, but it was laid out for him in a way. I was given a freedom and a lack of expectation about who I would become and what I would do. There's something about being the second that is perhaps preferable in that way. You think of a monkey tribe, and there's the alpha monkey. It seems like it would be the best to be the alpha monkey, but actually, it's a lot of responsibility. Everyone is constantly challenging your monkey rule, as it were. The beta monkey is under the alpha, but it's a lot less work to be the beta. And then, of course, there's the gamma, who doesn't even participate in the alpha-beta competition, instead just takes a completely different route, and is able to be an explorer and inventor and an artist.8:06 - Choosing Your PathMC: So how did you go about finding your particular self-chosen role? MIK: For a long time, I really didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. I was interested in learning, and I was interested in reading, and every month, I would have a new subject that I was obsessed with.But I didn't know how to turn any of them into a career or a life calling in some way. Finally, after many years of not really having a direction, not having a career, my mother suggested that I become a teacher. So, I went through the normal steps to become a teacher and got a teaching credential and entered the classroom. My first year was a little rough. But since then, I've gotten better at it. I've been a schoolteacher now for twelve years. Suddenly, everything that I learned in the first half of my life, I get to pass on, and as I'm passing it on, I also find that, by teaching something, I'm able to experience it and live it in a way that I wasn't when I was only learning about those subjects. So that's given me a strong direction and a strong purpose in my life. 09:35 - Favorite Things to TeachMC: What are some of your favorite things to teach? MIK: Well, everything I teach I love. I'm in a really lucky position that I'm my own department head. I have a department in which I teach philosophy and world religions and ethics. I get to determine what to teach at different grade levels. So right now, I have a sixth-grade class and we just read the story of Joseph, from the Jewish religion, and Joseph is interpreting the Pharaoh's dreams. I'm going to put a pin in that because I'd like to return to that story a little bit later, if I could. It's a wonderful story of Joseph interpreting the dreams. I ask my students about their dreams. You've never seen these students have more to say. It's the one question that, when I asked my students, every single student—ones that would never talk in any other circumstance—all have something to say because it's so uniquely personal, your dreams, and also so mysterious. They are just dying to share this part of themselves. I guess that's why dreams are so intriguing. They're calling out to be to be seen, some part of yourself that's calling out to be seen. So that's a wonderful subject with my sixth graders. With my seventh graders, right now, we're studying some of Jesus's teachings. We just read, today in class, the Sermon on the Mount. This is a great subject for seventh graders, because they're going through a lot of the things that Jesus is talking about: how do you treat the outcasts in your group? What do you do when someone is being unkind to you? These are all the kind of situations that that are really important for seventh graders. My tenth graders are studying Taoism. We took this beautiful walk today, and looked for Taoist themes in nature, the yin and yang and the way that water flows. In that class, I also have a lot of students for whom Mandarin is their first language. So, we're able to read parts of the text in English and in Chinese and that was also really interesting. MC: Tao ke tao, fei chang tao.MIK: Oh, you know it as well!MC: Just a little bit.12:20 - Systems of Philosophy and ReligionJudaism, Christianity, Taoism. What other systems of philosophy or religion do you touch on?MIK: I want my students to have a familiarity with all of the different religions and all of the different stories. I, myself, am particularly drawn to stories and myths. They've always held a deep attraction for me. A lot of the stories and myths that I teach are ones that I don't necessarily believe are part of a well-rounded education but are just those that are so meaningful to me personally, that I can't help but pass them on.All of that is a background. I think that the religions and the philosophical traditions of the world ask these wonderful questions about what is the meaning of life. Those are questions that I think the young people are really—those are questions that I think it's very good for young people to consider. Not to consider my answer, or the answer of Taoism or Christianity or Judaism, but really to find their own answers to those same questions, so that they have some internal guidance for them to navigate their world right now and have some idea of who they want to be in the future. You know, young people these days are—I'm sounding a little bit stodgy here, but young people these days are, well, they're self-reporting to be very stressed out, very aimless, not knowing what is the point of it all. "What do I want to do with my life?" That sense of meaninglessness makes it very difficult. It makes it difficult for them to navigate situations like the one that we're going through right now where some of them can't go to school and have to call in on video call and some of them don't know what they'll do after school, if they'll go to college or why they would go to college. There's a feeling of being lost. If you have students that have found their own answers to some existential questions about what the purpose of life is and what their own purpose is, even if those answers change and evolve over time, it still gives them their own quest. They're the hero of their own quest. Then when they encounter difficult decisions, or challenging times—our pandemic is obviously a challenging time for all of us, and also for these young people—being the hero of your own quest, then gives you a way to face even those challenging things, and, in fact, sometimes welcome challenges because they make you stronger. 15:33 - What Questions Are Worth Asking Yourself?MC: Very nice. So that comes out of the question, "What to do with your life?" And it's a question that I'm hearing you're recommending asking not so much for the answer, but for the practice it gives you in the face of that awesome mystery: not getting blown over by it. What other questions are worth asking for yourself, either asking of yourself, when you're young, or perennially as you age?MIK: Some of the questions that have been most meaningful to me, are so difficult to put into words. They're an intuitive, almost subconscious question about the universe. When I was really young, we lived in New Mexico up on a hill, and you could see for—it felt like—hundreds of miles in all directions, and this huge sky, and all of these stars. So, from a very young age, I was very aware of the enormity and the mystery of the cosmos. That left me this feeling of "Why?" Not just, "Why is there an earth?" Or, "Why is there a Mirza?" But, "Why is there anything? And what is it that hosts that something? 17:22 - For Those Asking "Why?"MC: What would you say to someone who is asking that question, "Why?" Whether it's the pandemic that's bringing on this question, whether it's adolescence, whatever is triggering it, if someone is really searching for why, do you have a recommendation as to what their next move might be to find some peace with that question or to get some depth with that question? MIK: Well, if it was one of my students asking that question, I would simply ask the question back to them and ask them more about their thinking. Most of these questions that you're asking me are things that have to do with myself or my job, and they should be ones that I have a quick answer to, but I actually don't. I think the reason is that I've never—I often only think about something when I'm talking about it. The act of speaking about it not just clarifies my thinking, it actually creates my thinking on a subject. And that might be true of other people, too. Definitely with my students I feel like they know more than they know that they know—especially around spiritual or philosophical questions. They already have some idea, but they don't know it yet because they haven't been asked or they haven't expressed their idea. They haven't talked it through. 18:53 - Speaking to Find out What You ThinkMC: Would your recommendation perhaps be to get moving on it and to write or speak or have conversations to somehow activate that, maybe it's the . . . linguistic center? Maybe it's just kind of the existential urge? MIK: Yes, I think that's true. I think the more that you write and the more that you speak on a subject, the more that you discover what you know, or what you believe you know—and again, that can change over time, and the circumstances change it so that the setting and the relationships that provide a context for your speaking or your writing also influenced then the content. For students, for young people, having a setting where there is a lot of trust, and care and compassion, but also joy and playfulness—that allows them to explore these ideas in more of an open ended way, not needing to know a right answer, but being comfortable with that sort of evolving, changing set of ideas that are coming from you. I'm the same way. I'm often changing my mind. Opportunities like this, to speak with you, is a time where I'm actually creating the ideas, rather than repeating them. Of course, when you write, it's different from when you speak, and a different set of thoughts come out. Our communications—Again, I'm a little . . . I feel like an old man here, but these days, our communications are so fast that we need to respond to people, we need to respond to a text or an email right away, we need to make a decision. We no longer have this inner space, to let ideas slowly form. A lot of the ancient philosophers and mystics and thinkers lived in this world where there was a lot more interiority than the way I think many of us live. Many of us live where our thoughts emerge, and we immediately send them out into the world, or we get some feedback from the world and we immediately internalize it. We don't as much have that interior space. I mean, we still have that interior space, but we're not doing as much to nurture it and to protect it from the fast paced and superficial and gaudy nature of the external space.You know, we've had some power outages here in California recently. And during each of those my experience of spending a few nights by candlelight has completely changed my feeling of what it's like to be alive.MC: I can see from your face that you love that.MIK: I do, because in the world of electricity—and specifically computers and cell phones—I get so caught up in constantly needing some stimulation of information and constantly feeling like I need to respond to a message. Having the candlelight softens the world. It creates this womb-like interior, where thoughts and feelings emerge that would not have been able to grow under the electric lights, but really take that loving, nurturing space of candlelight to grow. 23:27 - A Lack of Interiority and Inner SpaceMC: I've got this practice of getting up very early in the morning to write. And I often use a computer, and often there is a light on. So even though I'm kind of getting up in the womb of the morning, I have it a buzz with electricity. I'm curious about that. I would definitely try lighting a candle and bringing the old journal to that session to see what the difference is. How can you develop this inner space that you're talking about? Are there techniques for cultivating and nurturing it? MIK: Every spiritual tradition has a lot of clear guidance on this and clear practices on this, but I'm not the expert. I'm speaking of it in a longing way. I'm a full-fledged member of the fast-paced, superficial life on the exterior.MC: Power outages welcome. MIK: Yes, it's only when I'm forced to. I gave my tenth-grade students today a short Taoist meditation exercise and it was very simple, and they went outside and sat in nature for 10 minutes, not very long. They weren't allowed to sit near each other so they couldn't talk, and they weren't allowed to have a phone with them. They sat and then just came back to report on what they had observed in the natural world: light and color, and movement and shadow. All of them came back not only with this deep set of observations of the natural world, but also of their interior world. Just these ten minutes sitting outside was so transformative for them. They all came back and they said, "We should do this every day in school. Every kid should do this every day in school." I said, "Well, do you know that when you're not in school, you could do this anytime that you want?"And they said, "Yeah, but we never would."—that they would have to be forced to be contemplative, and then they think they would really benefit from it. I'm the same way. I need to be forced to be contemplative. And then I really benefit from it. 24:27 - Developing Inner SpaceMC: If somehow you could force this lesson of contemplation upon the world at large, what do you think would change about the world?MIK: This is what the world is doing to us all the time. I just mentioned the example of the power outages, but our current quarantine is a great example of that. I think many of us, over last spring had this experience of being forced out of our normal daily routines and this very negative situation ended up also creating these new ways of living that many of us found to be deeper and more meaningful. So, for example, in my own life, I used to take my kids out to eat at restaurants a lot. We started...
108 minutes | Nov 28, 2020
The World According To Josh Whitkin
00:00:00 - IntroductionWelcome to episode one of The World According to, a podcast that digs into how amazing people have come to view the world in their own fascinating ways.In this episode, I had the great pleasure of talking with Josh Whitkin, a legend of game design, the most playfully connected father I've ever had the fortune to witness in action, and a man with a great heart for friendship. With his characteristic gift for generous self-reflection in full display, we explore education, game design, note-taking, choosing a last name, soccer, rainy days, and so much more.I hope you enjoy this conversation as much as I did.Welcome to the world according to Josh Whitkin!00:01:00 - Jenkite or WhitkinMerging last namesWitkovich -> White -> Whitkin00:03:20 - The hallmark of a good decision"The only way you ever know you made a good decision is if you forget about it after you 'bought it.'""I see erasing things from my life as a reward."00:04:55 - Note takingPrimary tool: Evernote on the phone"It feels great once I get it written down. It's a release.""I'm totally confident that my subconscious will bring it back at the right time and place. I don't review.""When I'm writing notes, I'm sure to scatter keywords in that I think might be useful later.""I simulate my future self forgetting; what would I be frantically clawing for to get this idea back?"00:07:50 - Conversation with your future self"Notes are the first sentence in a conversation with my future self.""When I was a teen, my future self was this crazy dude. He was like superman. Mainly he did amazing, terrific things.""I might have peaked at age 48. My speed is slower—but my skill is higher, my strategy is higher. It's not an absolute and depressing slide into worse and worse every year. There is some trade off there.""I have this temptation to compress all of me down into one curve."00:12:00 - Growing up in the Oregon rain"I started in the forests of Oregon.""Raised by my dad in a survivalist ten foot by twenty foot shed in the pouring Oregon coastal rain.""I am traumatically scarred by rain.""Rain is the physical representation of isolation and discomfort.""Nine months of Oregon winters were me inside.""It was me, my brother, and my dad for pretty much my whole childhood.""I rebuilt model cars, tore them down, built them again, over and over.""I read everything in the house. I checked out my limit on the bookmobile which came through every two weeks."00:14:30 - Early book influences"Nancy Drew was the shit."Clan of the Cave Bear(Clan of the Care Bear)The Hobbit, over and over."I have many versions of the hobbits and the dragons in my mind. Like when you ask a kid to draw a dragon when they're 3, when they're 6, when they're 9, they're 12."00:18:25 - Dreams"My dreams are so literal.""In my dreams the meaning is so crystal clear."A dream about sprinting full speed. "I realized that if I leaned down and used my front legs I could just turbo . . . Chunks of earth flew behind me from all four limbs. It was amazing. I'll never forget that."00:20:30 - High School in Eugene, OR"Graduating eighth grade was a class of two. Then in ninth grade it was a class of a thousand.""I was so ready to leave my tiny grade school.""I felt simultaneously smart and insecure.""I was really excited to see how I stacked up.""I felt like a ghost.""The smell of the linoleum. The clang of the lockers. The number of students . . . like a river of people. The smell of institutions: dust and chemical cleaners. The number of doors.""It was Harry Potter, first day of Hogwarts. Excited—not belonging, got a weird backstory . . . ""I had no clue how to navigate the beurocracy of a big school. Nobody in my life did.""Guidance counselors said, 'We're going to start you at the basics, and if you do well, we'll accelerate you.' . . . It was awful. They put me in with all the kids who couldn't perform at a higher level and were not interested in performing at any level . . . The teachers were resigned and certain that everyone in that class was done . . . No one knew where I was; I was lost."00:26:30 - Are there "angels" out there?"My experience of the world has definitely been: there are no angels.""I joined Murdoch University . . . those people took care of me. Right down to the level of 'How are your kids?' but at the end of the day I couldn't accept it, not because it was too unreal but because it didn't fit my culture.""It's not my critique of the world. It's my ability and predisposition to accept help.""I want to be an angel—everyone does; it sounds too good; the angel is the definition of good; who doesn't want to be good?—there are times in my life when I've tried . . . but I expect other people to work how I do. And I wish I didn't."00:31:00 - Dropping out of high school"I went internal, sullen and resentful. I waited for someone to notice. Not a winning strategy.""I failed ceramics, which wasn't easy. But I did it!""I generalized my anger at The System. I felt The System had failed me. I didn't ever take it on myself.""I wrote a big essay for the student newspaper called 'Why I dropped out of High School.' It was a devastating critique that only an angry seventeen-year-old can bring; one-third truth, two-thirds bitterness.""My dad was my rock. 'Whatever you are, you are welcome to be. If you are gay that is 100% okay with me, if you do drugs, if you anything most parents would freak out about that will not freak me out. But there is one thing: you got to go to college.' For the first time I made him cry."00:36:00 - After dropping out"There are five chunks of me: friends, family, work, place—like home—and something around self.""I had work: at a venture-funded startup as an intern doing AutoCAD.""Ever since sixth grade I had been working with computers and it steadily built to this point of extreme confidence and ability.""It's not like, 'I'm going to drop out and wander around the streets . . . I'm going to do a full-time job with cool people I like.""My dad said, 'You're going to have to pay rent.' I said, 'All right. Here's some rent money.' And he's like, 'Damn. That's kinda cool.'""My dad talked me into get a GED and going to community college.""The college environment felt way better, but it was too late. I had already committed to hating the system.""The ceramics teacher said, 'The one thing I want you to do is make a plate.' I said, 'Ooh, that's the one thing I'm not doing.'"Josh is down for the challenge of taking a third ceramics class sometime to see how that goes this time.00:41:20 - The Love of Soccer"[Growing up] I was completely nerdy. I had no physical life at all. I was short and kinda chubby. Most of my friends were a head-and-a-half taller than me. I had this round baby face. I was not loving my body or my physical self at all. Then, Junior year, I shot up. I was 5'2" on my learners permit at 15 and 5'10" on my driver's license at 16. I suddenly grew a man-shaped face.""I didn't catch up with my body mentally for three years. I still thought I was short and chubby and baby faced.""I started soccer at 25."The doctor asked about a back spasm, "What do you do?" "I sit in a chair and program." "And what else." "That's it." "Well, there's your problem. Do anything. Just move and you'll be fine.""I picked a game that didn't use my hands, so that if I hurt myself I could still work—that's soccer.""My whole body was in agony for a year. Because it had never worked. After about a year I started getting fit. I gained ten pounds of muscle. I loved it and still love it. It is such a beautiful thing in my minds.""I play pickup. In leagues there's so much anger. It's a completely different experience.""When I say soccer, I mean friendly, casual, neighborhood soccer. It's pure joy for me.""For the first time I allowed myself to bring out a male enrgy of aggression and dominance and fighting. It was the side of myself I had denied my whole life. I found through soccer that I could still be a good guy and battle for the ball.""I never hurt anyone out of anger, but I hurt people and I am hurt in soccer all the time. It's part of the game and I love that.""A lot of guys work to be in touch with their feminine sides. I've always been in touch with that, very easily and naturally, but my masculine side took more work. Soccer was a big part of that for me."00:47:00 - Start-up culture in the Bay Area"I'm 25 in Oakland and I just bought my first house. That was a huge milestone for me; like castling in chess. I am a legitimate adult now. I just won life—because of my family values.""I was a rising star in the video game industry because I was the first guy who ever wrote a texture mapping tool. The video gaming industry was just turning to 3D. All the artists in the field were 2d artists, hardly any tools. I was there to guide them. Because of that I was tremendously valued for a short time. I was invited to advisory boards and Disney was recruiting. Big stuff was happening career-wise."00:39:00 - Before the Bay Area in Michigan"I had followed my girlfriend to Oberlin. I had an undergraduate student life—just without the formal education.""In Michigan I got my first 3D job using workstation for finite element analysis for Mechanical Engineering. That 3D model experience I brought to video games."00:50:30 - How did you know 3D modelling was your thing?"Raster graphics are bit maps, you zoom in and they get blurry; vector graphics you zoom in forever, they never get blurry. They are infinitely precise, for all practical purposes.""The first thing I built in AutoCAD was a drawing of the entire U.S. and I zoomed in until I had a house-sized block and I drew a house. And I blew my own mind by finding I could draw the door accurately at one-meter length. I coudl zoom out to a five-thousand meter length and zoom back in and the door didn't blur. I was hooked from that day on.""It took me about a tenth of a second to see a 3D model of a Ford heavy frame being bent under load to be like, 'Oh yeah, that's obviously what i should be doing.' It wasn't a fate-meant-to-be thing, it was a hunger for the obvious next big thing for somebody with my skills."00:54:00 - Finding a job in the Bay Area"They all wanted me to have a degree in Mechanical Engineering. I didn't so. So I called everyone in the Yellow Pages under Computer Graphics. Every single one of them. 'Hi, I'm Josh White, and I know 3D modeling. Do you have a job for me?'""The first interview I walk in and show printouts of the 3D models I'd made. This guys was like, 'Great, you're hired. What do you need?' I'm like, 'Uh, I don't actually have a computer.'"00:55:50 - Hustle and Hiring talent"Much later I was looking for talent and I didn't go look for big names and people who knew the 3D. I hustled young guys, like my past self, who had raw skill that complemented mine. And I trained them on all the tech side.""A non-stop hustle of going to conferences, meeting people, learning how to listen, learning how to offer, learning how to sell, and befriending and building a network and community, but with purpose.""Real estate. That's all real estate is in a lot of ways: hustle."00:58:00 - Getting a PhD"The obvious thing I could have done was Computer Graphics. But that didn't actually attract me. I identified as a designer rather than as a techical artist or a tech guy.""I had my share of shitty sketches of race cars. They were not designer-worthy in my mind. I wanted some legitimacy on that front.""My experience with design was very messy and nuts and bolts . . . very tactical, in-the-trenches production-oriented designs. It felt like working as a cashier. There was no theory here.""It's different this time. I've got no dreams. It's down-and-dirty this time. It's, how do I play the system?""What I got was a great mentor in Andrew Hutchinson. He said, 'Josh, this is what you do: apply for a Masters by research. Don't take any classes. Pick one little thing in your field that hasn't been done. To write that up, you've got to read what's already been written about it and critique it. Part way through your masters just ask that it be recognized as a PhD; that the work quality that you're doing is actually PhD level. I jammed that thing out in a third the time most of my peers were doing their PhDs."01.03.30 - PhD Focus: Activity/Goal Alignment"I focused on Game Design. I wanted to do something pro-social, so I picked 'Games for a Non-Entertainment Purpose.' I read this one paper about Activity/Goal Alignment, a theory that says, 'What a player does moment-to-moment maps to what the designer's long-term goal is. Are those aligned? Should they be aligned? Can you tell if they're aligned?' Once I read that paper I was like, 'That's it! There's something importnat in there that I've touched on in my own work, I've never had a name for.' So now I've got a theory name and I've got to critique and improve on it.""In my PhD I tried to operationalize [the theory of Activity/Goal Alignment] for today's working industry.""I tried to actually do it in the real world after doing my PhD by getting some grants to make a game and build games whose activity matched the goal. I generally found it was way more complicated than I thought. That's when I really earned my stripes as a product designer."01:07:00 - Battle Food"[The first game I was lead designer on] was called Battle Food. It was a video game where you threw food at each other. An arena shooter where you try to make your friends fat. Imagine counterstrike but all you've got are burgers and celery. We teach the food groups.""The insight was that multi-player arena shooter players who master the games, master the weapon. They understand the nuance between the burger and the fries.""There was a mathematical model of human metabolism in the game. Each food mapped to a model. The idea was that players would eventually reverse-engineer the mathematical model of human metabolism by being good at this game.""The learning goal is the play; that was my goal.""What I discovered once I got an expert on board is that there is no good mathematical model of human metabolism. There is no math to be had. And that ruined the whole project. I should have had that conversation first before we built the project, but I was new."01:09:45 - Games about depression and anxiety"With the grant world you're always pitching; you have three going.""They never really had names because they never got fully funded.""In Squirrel Quest I started with my subject matter expert and recruited them as co-designers. I never really succeeded with that. I could not extract him from his academic world enough to really participate in a startup.""I asked her, 'What is one thing that definitely prevents anxiety and depression in humans?' She said, 'A strong relationship with a parent.'""I built a game designed to provoke teens into having conversations with their parents. The model was backyard sports: throwing a ball back and forth chatting about your day. We wanted the equivalent in a video game. But then we wanted the game to suddenly provoke the internalizing youth to show themselves.""Any form of play, you learn something.""It was too hard to provoke a teen to revealing themselves in front of their father. We couldn't find a design that was sufficiently provocative. I don't feel like we've finished that journey, just that we ran out of money.""The older I get as a designer the less prescriptive I get.""What I'd love to do now if I had more money to tackle that idea again is play games with other fathers and sons, play games with my own sons, make a bunch of notes, and invite the kids especially to design. Because most game players are good designers and most youth design games relevant to them. Then I would ask them to design a game for their fathers. The hardest part is engaging their father because they're time-poor, insecure, and it's embarrassing to be so shit in front of games with your own kid.""Disney rides had a similar problem. They let the moms steer the ship and the kids fire the canons. They made two different games designed in one.""Asymmetric play styles would be a fun area to explore.""I would really follow the lead of the players, the teens especially. Perhaps a game building kit that would make it easy for sons to build games for their father, not for fathers generally.""I would remove the pro-social motivation. It screwed me over and over in all my pro-social efforts.""You cannot get anything funded [in a pro-social setting] if there's any risk of them doing harm; but art? You can do harm. You can do whatever you want. It's art. That kind of freedom might be essential for building a game that truly saves lives at a scale that's never been done before.""If you put anything in front of someone and say, 'This is really going to help you' you just killed any pleasure they might have gotten out of it. That is just poison. It doesn't matter how fun anything actually is; that frame is a damaging frame. But if you say, 'Dude, this thing blew my mind, check it out.' It could be pretty mediocre and still have effects. The frame is as important as the product.""People try to build stealth learning games and it almost never works.""The core problem that we're talking about here is power relationships. Education presupposes a teacher and a student. An imbalance of power. That imbalance is brought with the lable 'Educational Game'.""Educational Games is an oxymoron.""Game says 'Fun.' It promises the player, 'You are going to have fun. This is for you and it's going to be pleasurable.' Educatioal says the opposite—so of course it's not going to work.""The promise the designer makes the player is, 'I'm going to make some rules you have to follow, but it's going to be awesome for you. These rules are for you and it's going to be great.'""It's fun to play with players; it's not fun to play with teachers."01:23:00 - How do you merge the fun of soccer with that...
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