The Nothing to be afraid of

24 Pages·2014·31.5 MB·English

by  Familien Stenbæk Frankel

The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

The
 Nothing
 to
 be
 afraid
 of

Experiments
 within
 lyrical
 animation

Bjarke
 Stenbæk

M2
 Storytelling
 –
 2014

Tutor

Joanna
 Rubin
 Dranger

External
 Tutor

Rui
 Tenreiro

Writing
 Tutor

Emma
 Rendel

KONSTFACK

1
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

Table
 Of
 Content

Abstract

  p.3

Intro

  p.4

Heterotopias

  p.4

Fram
 expedition

  p.7

The
 existential
 crisis

  p.8

The
 ideas
 of
 Jerzy
 Grotowski

  p.9

My
 approach

  p.10

Sources
 of
 inspiration

  p.11

Where
 to
 dig?

  p.11

Elements

  p.13-­‐19

The
 final
 phase

  p.21-­‐23

Bibliography

  p.23

2
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

Abstract

Practical
 Approach

In
 this
 project
 I
 have
 been
 exploring
 how
 to
 work
 intuitively
 and
 exploratory

with
 animation,
 lyrical
 animation,
 dynamic
 paintings
 –
 whatever
 you
 might
 call

it.
 Traditional
 animation
 is
 meticulous;
 it
 has
 a
 strong
 emphasis
 on
 planning
 the

storytelling.
 This
 approach
 derives
 from
 the
 fact
 that
 the
 production
 of

traditional
 animation
 is
 extremely
 time-­‐consuming
 and
 thus
 expensive
 in
 either

time
 or
 money.
 I
 started
 this
 project
 with
 an
 experience
 of
 how
 modern
 software

and
 hardware
 can
 help
 you
 bypass
 these
 hurdles,
 and
 perhaps
 enabling
 a
 more

experimental,
 improvising
 approach
 without
 necessarily
 compromising
 the

output
 quality.
 I
 have
 my
 starting
 point
 in
 illustration
 and
 acrylic
 painting
 as
 a

medium,
 which
 I,
 in
 this
 project
 have
 been
 implementing
 in
 the
 software
 After

Effects

Theoretical
 Approach

I
 make
 sense
 of
 the
 world
 through
 metaphors.
 The
 metaphor
 allows
 me
 to

understand
 something
 even
 though
 I
 haven’t
 experienced
 it
 myself.
 An
 experience,
 a

sensation,
 can
 have
 transparent
 qualities.
 It
 can
 be
 superimposed
 onto
 the

experiences
 of
 others;
 scaled
 up
 or
 down
 a
 bit
 or
 change
 the
 time
 and
 the
 setting.

Perhaps
 it
 is
 this,
 which
 allows
 us
 to
 have
 empathy?
 When
 I
 tell
 a
 story,
 I
 am

making
 a
 room
 of
 my
 feelings
 that
 others
 can
 step
 into
 and
 we
 can
 share
 an

experience.
 In
 this
 project,
 I
 have
 been
 trying
 to
 find
 a
 way
 to
 tap
 into
 the
 vapors
 of

my
 imagination.
 Through
 intuition-­‐driven
 animation
 excises,
 I
 try
 to
 solidify
 my

vague
 inklings,
 hoping
 to
 make
 my
 mind
 somewhat
 permeable
 to
 yours.

3
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

What
 is
 this
 veil
 that
 hangs
 between
 my
 mind
 and
 my
 hands?

I

There
 is
 a
 fundamental
 difficulty
 for
 me,
 when
 trying
 to
 transform
 the
 things
 I

feel
 into
 storytelling.
 How
 is
 it,
 that
 sometimes
 when
 I
 try
 to
 tell
 something

deliberately,
 when
 I
 plan
 everything
 out
 and
 think
 of
 the
 most
 clever
 imagery,

the
 most
 precise
 wording,
 that
 sometimes
 that
 work
 still
 appears
 lifeless?
 And

then,
 sometimes,
 the
 things
 that
 comes
 out
 of
 me
 without
 trying
 to
 steer
 it,
 the

weird
 and
 random
 quirks
 of
 my
 head
 –
 that
 this
 has
 something
 truly
 profound
 in

it,
 even
 though
 I
 can’t
 make
 sense
 of
 how
 and
 why?

I
 have
 a
 natural
 inclination
 towards
 the
 intuitive.
 I
 am
 very
 curious
 –
 I
 cherish

the
 discoveries
 I
 make
 through
 mistakes,
 I
 have
 a
 love
 for
 the
 chaotic,
 for
 the

unexpected.
 I
 am
 not
 very
 concerned
 with
 logic
 or
 the
 exact
 truth.
 What
 I
 am

most
 interested
 in,
 is
 what
 I
 would
 call
 emotional
 truth:
 the
 truth
 that
 makes

sense
 beyond
 the
 intellect,
 the
 truth
 that
 bypasses
 the
 intellect.

The
 beauty
 of
 this
 approach
 is
 that
 I
 often
 make
 discoveries
 that
 are
 better
 than

anything
 I
 could
 come
 up
 with
 myself.

But
 this
 inclination,
 this
 love,
 is
 also
 my
 nemesis,
 my
 biggest
 source
 of
 angst
 and

most
 likely
 my
 downfall.

The
 problem
 with
 the
 intuition-­‐based
 –
 the
 improvising
 process,
 is
 that
 –
 as

there
 is
 nothing
 which
 is
 truest,
 and
 there
 are
 no
 clear
 goals,
 it’s
 easy
 to
 end
 up
 in

a
 stage
 of
 relativity-­‐induced
 stagnation.
 And
 it’s
 difficult
 for
 me
 to
 control.

Heterotopias

I
 am
 shamefully
 fascinated
 with
 two,
 in
 principle,
 mirroring
 constructions;
 the

lighthouse
 and
 the
 greenhouse.
 Both
 being
 the
 outposts
 –
 the
 threshold
 between

culture/nature.
 It
 is
 the
 Victorian/romantic
 era
 versions
 of
 these
 constructions

that
 I’m
 interested
 in.
 Somehow
 the
 Victorian
 mind
 is
 an
 exemplary
 in

understanding
 the
 conflict
 between
 intellect
 and
 emotions.

“With
 a
 smile
 the
 king
 drew
 aside
 the
 curtain.
 I
 was
 speechless,
 for
 I
 saw
 an

enormous
 garden,
 laid
 out
 in
 Venetian
 manner,
 with
 palms,
 a
 lake,
 bridges

pavilions,
 and
 buildings
 like
 castles.
 “Come”,
 said
 the
 king,
 and
 I
 followed
 him

fascinated
 as
 Dante
 following
 Virgil
 into
 Paradise

Maria
 de
 la
 Paz,
 description
 of
 the
 winter
 garden
 of
 King
 Ludwig
 II,
 1883

The
 dream
 of
 a
 garden
 under
 glass
 became
 a
 reality
 in
 the
 nineteenth
 century.
 It

was
 a
 dream
 of
 the
 entire
 natural
 environment
 of
 a
 tropical
 Island
 enclosed
 in
 iron

filigree
 and
 glass.
 The
 scientific
 control
 of
 natural
 processes
 –
 the
 basis
 of
 the
 new

4
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

industry
 –
 was
 realized
 with
 the
 use
 of
 glass,
 iron,
 and
 steam
 in
 the
 cultivation
 of

plants.
 Nature
 could
 be
 controlled,
 and
 not
 just
 for
 immediately
 useful
 purposes.”1

So
 what
 is
 it
 that
 draw
 me
 to
 these
 structures?
 Obviously
 it
 have
 never
 been
 a

conscious
 decision;
 it
 is
 apparent
 to
 me
 that
 both
 the
 lighthouse
 and
 the

greenhouse
 strikes
 a
 tone;
 that
 they
 have
 some
 transparent
 qualities
 that
 are

superimposable
 with
 conflicts
 and
 feelings
 in
 me.

All
 children
 I’ve
 known,
 have
 had
 a
 strong
 connection
 with
 secret
 spaces
 -­‐
 f.ex.

the
 treehouse.
 (In
 danish
 there
 is
 an
 umbrella
 term,
 which
 is
 ”Hule”
 -­‐
 the
 most

precise
 translation
 would
 perhaps
 be
 ”Den”
 or
 ”Håla”
 in
 swedish
 (it
 is
 interesting

that
 the
 swedish
 connotations
 with
 this
 word
 seems
 to
 be
 negative,
 while
 they

are
 mainly
 positive
 in
 danish
 -­‐
 perhaps
 it
 is
 the
 danish
 Biedermeier-­‐tendencies

which
 are
 shining
 through?
 The
 avoidance
 of
 the
 unknown,
 the
 comfortseeking.

Anyways,
 it
 is
 not
 the
 comfort
 nor
 the
 conform
 I’m
 interested
 in).
 The
 child
 (and

grown-­‐ups
 as
 well
 I
 guess)
 have
 two
 strong
 drives
 (based
 on
 nothing
 but
 my

intuition)
 that
 I’m
 interested
 in,
 in
 this
 the
 ”Den”
 perspective;
 it
 is:
 1)
 the
 desire

to
 be
 safe
 from
 harm,
 so
 strong
 that
 it
 threatens
 to
 kill
 nr.
 2)
 a
 strong
 curiosity,
 a

wonder,
 a
 wanting
 to
 see
 behind
 the
 curtain
 of
 the
 world
 -­‐
 so
 much
 that
 it

threatens
 their
 safety.
 The
 Den
 encapsulates
 the
 juxtaposition
 of
 these
 drives
 -­‐
 I

would
 say
 that
 the
 best
 Dens
 are
 characterized
 by
 an
 equilibrium
 between
 them.

 Lighthouses,
 Bjarke
 Stenbæk
 2010

 Greenhouse,
 Bjarke
 Stenbæk,
 2013

1 Houses
 of
 Glass,
 Georg
 Kohlmaier
 and
 Barna
 von
 Sartory,The
 MIT
 press,
 1986,
 p. 1

5
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

“Places
 like
 of
 this
 kind
 are
 outside
 of
 all
 places,
 even
 though
 it
 may
 be
 possible
 to

indicate
 their
 location
 in
 reality.”
 2

“Focault’s
 heteropias
 are
 spaces
 set
 aside
 from
 the
 regular
 course
 of
 time
 and
 space

…
 or
 they
 are
 spaces
 that
 incorporate
 more
 than
 one
 time
 and
 more
 than
 one

space.
 …

 Mary
 Shelleys’s
 arctic
 can
 be
 read
 as
 a
 heterotopia,
 as
 an
 othered
 space,

which
 on
 one
 hand
 promises
 positive
 change
 and
 transformation
 while
 on
 the

other
 threatens
 death
 and
 destruction.”
 3

When
 stumbling
 upon
 Foucault’s
 concept
 about
 the
 Heterotopia,
 I
 intuitively
 felt

that
 I
 had
 found
 a
 key
 of
 kinds
 to
 my
 interest
 in
 these
 places.
 Or
 at
 least
 a
 term

from
 which
 I
 could
 work
 more
 constructively.
 I
 find
 that
 Foucault’s
 own

definition
 of
 the
 term
 to
 be
 quite
 vague,
 it
 could
 be
 interpreted
 in
 quite
 a
 few

directions.

I
 realized
 that
 what
 interested
 me
 in
 the
 heteropia,
 or
 the
 interpretation
 that
 I

found
 useful

 was
 that
 it
 somehow
 seemed
 to
 be
 a
 materialization,
 a
 physical

representation,
 of
 liminality
 -­‐
 of
 the
 liminal
 state
 described
 in
 Van
 Genneps
 ‘rites

of
 passages’.
 It
 seems
 that
 a
 fundamental
 priority
 of
 humans
 through
 time
 has

been
 that
 of
 stability
 -­‐
 that
 of
 anchoring.
 Stability
 is
 a
 feeling
 inside
 of
 you
 coming

from
 a
 sense
 that
 you
 somewhat
 know
 what
 your
 role
 is
 socially,
 what
 is

expected
 from
 you,
 what
 the
 definition
 of
 truth
 is.
 This
 is
 a
 premise,
 and
 just
 like

the
 premise
 of
 gravity,
 you
 need
 to
 be
 familiar
 with
 it
 to
 act
 upon
 it.
 Whenever

changes
 has
 been
 experienced
 –
 a
 change
 in
 physical
 or
 social
 conditions,
 this

state
 of
 stability
 has
 been
 endangered
 and
 threatening
 the
 both
 society
 and

individual.
 Van
 Gennep
 have
 defined
 this
 structure
 of
 stability,
 loss
 of
 stability

and
 regain
 of
 stability
 in
 his
 description
 of
 the
 ‘rites
 of
 passage’.

“Van
 Gennep
 has
 shown
 that
 all
 rites
 of
 transition
 are
 marked
 by
 three
 phases:

separation,
 margin
 (or
 limen),
 and
 aggregation.
 The
 first
 phase
 of
 separation

comprises
 symbolic
 behaviour
 signifying
 the
 detachment
 of
 the
 individual
 or
 group

either
 from
 an
 earlier
 fixed
 point
 in
 the
 social
 structure
 or
 a
 set
 of
 cultural

conditions
 (a
 “state”);
 during
 the
 intervening
 liminal
 period,
 the
 state
 of
 the
 ritual

subject
 (the
 “passenger”)
 is
 ambiguous;
 he
 passes
 through
 a
 realm
 that
 has
 few
 or

none
 of
 the

 attributes
 of
 the
 past
 or
 coming
 state;
 in
 the
 third
 phase
 the
 passage
 is

consummated.
 The
 ritual
 subject
 ...
 is
 in
 a
 stable
 state
 once
 more
 …
 “
 4

2 Of
 Other
 Spaces:
 Utopias
 and
 Heteropias,
 Michel
 Foucault
 (originally
 “Des
 Espace
 Autres”
 1967)

Architecture/Movement/Continuité
 1984,
 p. 3 - 4

3 The
 Arctic
 and
 “Other
 Spaces”,
 Jacob
 Bachinger,
 At
 the
 Edge,
 Vol
 1
 2010, p. 159

4 Betwixt and Between: The Liminal Period in Rites de Passage,Victor W. Turner
PNAS,1964, p. 46 (my underlinings)
6
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

The
 Fram
 Expedition

“That
 eventually
 provoked
 Nansen
 to
 a
 demonically
 nihilistic
 wail,
 of
 which
 the

essence
 was
 that
 ‘Nature
 knows
 no
 purpose’,
 as
 he
 put
 it,
 and
 that
 science
 was

probably
 an
 illusion.”5

The
 Fram
 expedition
 seems
 to
 me
 to
 have
 the
 symptoms
 of
 the
 ‘rites
 of
 passage’.

It
 has
 the
 same
 structure.
 It
 has
 so
 many
 heterotopian
 elements,
 it’s
 almost
 a

russian
 doll
 of
 heteropias.

We
 have
 the
 boat
 -­‐
 the
 heterotopia
 par
 excellence
 according
 to
 Foucault,
 a
 little

piece
 of
 civilisation
 separated
 from
 the
 rest
 of
 civilization
 in
 time
 and
 space.
 The

boat
 freezes
 into,
 becomes
 a
 passive
 part
 of
 the
 arctic
 ice
 –
 a
 blank
 nonplace,
 a

place
 of
 liminality.
 As
 a
 sort
 of
 multistage
 rocket,
 Nansen
 finally
 sets
 off
 on
 his

ultimate
 try
 for
 the
 pole,
 leaving
 the
 safety
 and
 civilization
 of
 the
 boat
 behind.

The
 next
 year
 Nansen
 and
 his
 assistant
 spend
 on
 the
 ice,
 gradually
 losing
 all

characteristics
 of
 civilisation,
 before
 finally
 being
 rescued
 and
 returned
 home.

So
 if
 this
 is
 actually
 a
 rite
 of
 passage,
 what
 is
 then
 the
 catalyst?
 What

transformation
 is
 going
 on?
 What
 is
 the
 before
 and
 the
 after?
 My
 interpretation

is
 that
 Nansen
 is
 going
 through,
 both
 symbolically
 and
 literally,
 the
 existential

crisis.
 And
 what
 is
 the
 catalyst
 of
 this
 crisis?
 Max
 Weber
 coined
 the
 expression

”the
 disenchantment
 of
 the
 world”,
 a
 process
 that
 is
 a
 product
 of
 the
 very

modern
 breakthrough
 that
 Nansen
 were
 a
 representative
 of:

“The
 fate
 of
 our
 times
 is
 characterized
 by
 rationalization
 and
 intellectualization

and,
 above
 all,
 by
 the
 "disenchantment
 of
 the
 world."
 Precisely
 the
 ultimate
 and

most
 sublime
 values
 have
 retreated
 from
 public
 life
 either
 into
 the

transcendental
 realm
 of
 mystic
 life
 or
 into
 the
 brotherliness
 of
 direct
 and

personal
 human
 relations.
 It
 is
 not
 accidental
 that
 our
 greatest
 art
 is
 intimate
 and

not
 monumental.”
 6

If
 you've
 ever
 had
 a
 depression,
 you
 will
 know
 the
 feeling
 of
 "the
 disenchantment

of
 world".
 We
 often
 talk
 about
 depression
 in
 terms
 of
 sadness,
 which
 is
 relevant.

But
 much
 stronger
 I
 think,
 is
 a
 hardcore
 apathy.
 A
 sense
 of
 purposelessness.
 A

disconnection
 with
 the
 world.
 -­‐
 Say
 you
 find
 a
 stone
 on
 the
 shore.
 A
 richly

colored
 granite
 of
 sorts,
 with
 bright
 reds
 and
 deep
 blacks,
 some
 twinkling

component
 in
 the
 core.
 You
 pick
 it
 up,
 and
 carry
 it
 home.
 Joyous
 of
 the
 thought
 of

all
 the
 hours
 you're
 going
 to
 enjoy
 this
 stone,
 and
 how
 its
 colors
 are
 going
 to
 live

up
 you
 home.
 By
 the
 time
 you've
 walked
 up
 the
 pathway
 homewards,
 and
 come

beyond
 the
 dunes
 mumbling
 the
 sound
 of
 the
 sea,
 you
 extract
 the
 stone
 from
 you

pocket
 -­‐
 only
 to
 discover
 that
 the
 stone
 is
 gray
 now;
 it's
 lost
 something.
 It's
 dry.

It's
 surface
 is
 porous
 and
 diffuse.
 What
 can
 you
 do,
 but
 through
 the
 stone
 away?

This
 feeling.
 That
 feeling
 when
 something
 you
 loved,
 something
 you
 saw

something
 in,
 suddenly
 doesn't
 wake
 any
 emotions
 in
 you
 whatsoever.
 It's

horribly
 melancholic.
 An
 enchantment
 is
 a
 magic
 spell
 of
 sorts.
 The
 world
 has

lost
 it's
 magic,
 some
 intangible
 shimmer.
 The
 absence
 of
 feelings
 actually.
 An

5 Nansen,
 Roland
 Huntford,
 Abacus,
 1997
 (this
 edition
 2001),
 p. 242

6 From
 Max
 Weber:
 Essays
 In
 Sociology
 Translated,
 edited,
 and
 with
 introduction
 by
 H.H.
 Gerth
 and
 C.

Wright
 Mills
 New
 York,
 Oxford
 University
 Press,
 1946, p. 155

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The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

inability
 to
 care.
 Like
 you're
 brain
 is
 lacking
 endorphins
 (which
 might
 be
 the

clinical
 reason
 actually).
 I
 think
 some
 people
 will
 find
 themselves
 in
 a
 depression

suddenly,
 without
 any
 apparent
 reason.
 In
 my
 experience
 it
 is
 also
 possible
 to

actually
 induce
 a
 depression,
 just
 through
 the
 act
 of
 brooding.

The
 existential
 crisis

What
 is
 an
 existential
 crisis?
 An
 existential
 crisis
 is
 when
 you
 suddenly
 are

stopped
 in
 your
 tracks.
 You
 realize
 that
 you
 are
 going
 to
 die,
 that
 you
 cannot

convince
 yourself
 of
 the
 existence
 of
 an
 afterlife,
 you
 realize
 the
 full

consequences
 of
 this
 realization,
 it
 sucks
 the
 happiness
 out
 of
 you.
 You
 realize

that
 you
 are
 completely
 alone
 in
 this
 world,
 you
 will
 never
 truly
 connect
 to

another
 person
 or
 thing,
 you
 are
 trapped
 inside
 you
 own
 little
 self.
 You
 feel

disconnected
 to
 the
 world.
 You
 realize
 that
 there
 is
 no
 meaning
 in
 this
 world;

everything
 is
 chaotic,
 random,
 dark
 and
 grim.
 Everything
 you
 ever
 felt
 certain

about,
 the
 things
 you
 were
 sure
 about
 the
 anchors
 in
 your
 life,
 like
 your
 parents,

your
 faith
 or
 your
 national
 identity,
 can
 and
 will
 rot
 and
 disappear.

The
 Norwegian
 philosopher
 Peter
 Zapffe
 discussed
 the
 paradox
 of
 the
 human

intellect:

“Life
 had
 overshot
 its
 target,
 blowing
 itself
 apart.

 A
 species
 had
 been
 armed
 to

heavily
 –
 by
 spirit
 made
 almighty
 without,
 but
 equally
 a
 menace
 to
 it’s
 own
 well-­‐
being.
 Its
 weapon
 was
 like
 a
 sword
 without
 a
 hilt
 or
 plate,
 a
 two-­‐edged
 blade

cleaving
 everything;
 but
 he
 who
 is
 to
 wield
 must
 grasp
 the
 blade
 and
 turn
 the
 one

edge
 toward
 himself.”7

It
 seems
 to
 me,
 that
 with
 modernity;
 through
 the
 radical
 use
 of
 reason,
 we
 are
 all

sort
 of
 stuck
 in
 the
 the
 state
 of
 liminality
 now
 –never
 allowed
 to
 return
 to
 a
 state

of
 cognitive
 stability
 –
 for
 we
 know
 too
 well
 that
 there
 are
 none.

It
 is
 depressing
 –
 but
 it
 is
 also
 liberating.
 If
 we
 find
 peace
 in
 the
 not
 knowing
 –
 we

can,
 if
 not
 re-­‐enchant
 the
 world,
 then
 look
 at
 the
 world
 with
 wonder
 and
 true

curiosity.

“Endast
 en
 jämvikt
 mellan
 verklighetsupplevelse
 och
 lyrism
 ger
 utrymme
 åt
 på
 en

gång
 den
 intensiva
 känslan
 och
 den
 intellektuella
 klarheten.”
 8

7 ”The Last Messiah”, p.1, Peter
 Wessel
 Zappffe
 –
 originally
 published
 in
 Janus

 #9,
 1933

8 ”Myten
 om
 Sisyfos”
 Le
 mythe
 de
 Sisyphe
 (1942),Albert
 Camus,
 Albert
 Bonniers
 Forlag,
 andre

utgåvan
 i
 Delfinserien,
 2001,
 p. 10

8
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

II

In
 the
 very
 beginning
 of
 this
 project,
 I
 was
 sitting
 on
 a
 toilet
 in
 Rio
 de
 Janiero
 for

the
 better
 part
 of
 a
 day,
 due
 to
 an
 unfriendly
 pineapple.
 I
 flipped
 through
 the

stack
 of
 books
 lying
 next
 to
 me,
 and
 picked
 up
 the
 only
 one
 written
 in
 English.
 It

was
 a
 thin
 paperback
 book,
 on
 the
 theories
 of
 the
 polish
 guru
 of
 experimental

theater
 –
 hes
 called
 Jerzy
 Grotowski.
 His
 main
 focus
 is
 on
 improvisation
 within

Performance
 Theater.
 But
 as
 I
 was
 sitting
 there,
 naked,
 in
 the
 warm
 afternoon
 on

a
 high
 hill
 of
 St.
 Teresa,
 it
 struck
 me
 that
 he
 was
 talking
 directly
 to
 me.

He
 warns
 the
 young
 artist
 of
 the
 dangers
 of
 ending
 ones
 days
 as
 a
 dilettante
 and

a
 creative
 tourist.
 And
 he
 defines
 a
 couple
 of
 guidelines
 to
 follow9:

Improvisation
 within
 a
 structure

The
 dilettante
 believes
 that
 improvising
 is
 equivalent
 to
 play
 with
 no
 rules.
 But

that
 is
 not
 true.
 Improvisation
 can
 only
 be
 fruitful
 when
 it
 is
 conducted
 within
 a

strict
 framework.
 You
 need
 to
 decide
 on
 something
 you
 want
 to
 investigate,
 and

let
 that
 be
 your
 frame.

Dig
 in
 one
 place

When
 you
 have
 decided
 on
 the
 entry
 point
 for
 your
 investigation,
 that
 inkling
 of

an
 idea
 that
 feels
 true,
 you
 need
 to
 keep
 digging
 in
 that
 same
 place,
 following
 the

trail
 of
 the
 initial
 idea,
 through
 the
 uncertainty
 and
 the
 doubt
 that
 are
 bound
 to

occur.
 Only
 then
 will
 you
 reach
 something
 true.

Don’t
 be
 a
 tourist

If
 you
 don’t
 learn
 to
 recognize
 the
 natural
 doubt
 that
 is
 a
 part
 of
 every
 process,

you
 run
 the
 risk
 of
 becoming
 a
 tourist.
 Jumping
 from
 one
 idea
 to
 the
 other,

mistaking
 the
 falling
 in
 love
 with
 a
 new
 idea
 with
 ‘inspiration’.
 Never
 working

long
 enough
 on
 one
 idea
 to
 see
 it
 live.

III

The
 ideas
 of
 Jerzy
 Grotowski
 seemed
 to
 make
 sense,
 when
 I
 thought
 of
 my
 way
 of

working.
 And
 if
 I
 wanted
 to
 work
 professionally
 with
 the
 tools
 of
 intuition
 and

improvisation,
 it
 seemed
 like
 a
 good
 idea
 to
 understand
 how
 to
 build
 and
 work

with
 the
 notion
 of
 framework.
 What
 should
 be
 the
 framework
 of
 this
 master-­‐
project?

I
 am
 an
 illustrator.
 I
 draw
 and
 I
 paint,
 that
 is
 my
 foremost
 strength
 and
 way
 of

expressing
 myself.
 Since
 I
 started
 Konstfack,
 I
 have
 been
 concentration
 on

working
 with
 acrylic
 painting,
 and
 working
 with
 this
 technique
 has
 been
 the

place
 where
 I
 to
 this
 day
 have
 come
 closest
 to
 the
 way
 of
 working,
 as
 described

by
 Grotowski
 –
 so
 I
 knew
 this
 would
 be
 a
 cornerstone.
 When
 I
 paint,
 I
 usually

make
 a
 sketch,
 which
 I
 then
 slowly
 mold
 into
 a
 final
 piece,
 by
 applying
 layer

upon
 layer
 of
 paints
 and
 washes.
 Removing
 and
 adding.
 Both
 with
 a
 clear
 idea
 of

9
 “At
 work
 with
 Grotowski
 on
 physical
 actions”
 Thomas
 Richards,
 Routledge,

London
 1995
 p.40-­‐65

9
The nothing to be afraid of – Bjarke Stenbæk, M2 Storytelling – 2014

how
 to
 approach
 the
 next
 step,
 but
 also
 seizing
 opportunities
 when
 they
 appear

in
 mistakes.
 It’s
 a
 process
 of
 investigation.

“Façade”,
 Bjarke
 Stenbæk,
 2014

But
 I
 also
 have
 a
 long
 love-­‐relation
 to
 the
 moving
 image
 in
 all
 it’s
 forms.
 There
 is

something
 in
 the
 animated
 which
 seems
 to
 transcend
 the
 expression
 of
 the

painting.
 It’s
 important,
 I
 think,
 to
 mention
 that
 my
 experiences
 with
 the

software
 After
 Effects
 was
 essential
 to
 the
 birth
 of
 this
 project,
 and
 the
 whole

premise
 for
 intuition-­‐driven
 animation.

According
 to
 Daniel
 Kahneman10,
 the
 strength
 of
 your
 intuition
 is
 defined
 by
 the

distance
 in
 time
 between
 an
 input
 and
 an
 outcome.
 And
 the
 intuition
 gets

stronger
 the
 more
 subsequent
 experiences
 of
 this
 input-­‐outcome
 relationship

you
 can
 get.
 That’s
 why
 you
 get
 such
 an
 effortless
 when
 driving
 a
 car
 –
 touching

the
 steering
 wheel
 immediately
 results
 in
 a
 movement
 of
 the
 car.
 Compared
 to
 an

oil
 tanker
 where
 you
 can
 not
 in
 the
 same
 way
 build
 intuition.
 Traditional

animation
 is
 slow.
 It
 has
 a
 low
 tolerance
 for
 randomness
 –
 and
 it’s
 quite
 rigid
 in

that
 way.
 The
 result
 is
 only
 as
 good
 as
 you
 could
 imagine
 beforehand.
 The

strength
 of
 After
 Effects
 is
 that
 it
 takes
 the
 principles
 of
 animation
 and
 makes
 it

easily
 manipulated.
 What
 would
 have
 taken
 months
 before,
 you
 can
 now
 see
 the

result
 of
 at
 the
 end
 of
 a
 day.
 The
 weakness
 of
 After
 Effects
 is
 that
 it
 tends
 to
 have

an
 inherent
 computerized
 aesthetic,
 and
 that
 the
 technical
 details
 within
 the

program
 can
 lure
 you
 into
 ridiculous
 hours
 of
 hairsplitting.

10
 “Tänka,
 snabbt
 och
 långsamt”,
 Daniel
 Kahneman,
 Volante,
 Stockholm
 2011,
 p.

271-­‐272

10