The Employment: A Prize-Winning Animation About Why We’re So Disenchanted with Work Today

What did Argen­tine film­mak­er San­ti­a­go Gras­so have in mind when he cre­at­ed the prize-win­ning ani­ma­tion El Empleo (The Employ­ment) five years ago? Was it some­thing about the dehu­man­iz­ing qual­i­ty of many jobs in the mod­ern ser­vice econ­o­my? Or the grim shift towards menial labor after the great reces­sion of 2007-08?  Or, nowa­days in 2016, could you see a com­men­tary on the work that will be left once automa­tion fin­ish­es dis­plac­ing liv­ing, breath­ing employ­ees–every­one from burg­er flip­pers to hedge fund man­agers? Robots will do the work, peo­ple will be the door­mats, and maybe (as Elon Musk sug­gests) the gov­ern­ment can pay us all a bare min­i­mum wage?

The Employ­ment will be added to our col­lec­tion of Free Ani­ma­tions, a sub­set of our larg­er meta list, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

via The Cre­ators Project

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Bertrand Rus­sell & Buck­min­ster Fuller on Why We Should Work Less, and Live & Learn More

Charles Bukows­ki Rails Against 9‑to‑5 Jobs in a Bru­tal­ly Hon­est Let­ter (1986)

William Faulkn­er Resigns From His Post Office Job With a Spec­tac­u­lar Let­ter (1924)

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How the Films of Hayao Miyazaki Work Their Animated Magic, Explained in 4 Video Essays

Last week we fea­tured a video that con­vinc­ing­ly places the char­ac­ters of Hayao Miyaza­ki and his Stu­dio Ghi­b­li’s ani­mat­ed films into real life-set­tings. It jux­ta­posed two very dif­fer­ent kinds of real­i­ty, the con­crete three-dimen­sion­al one in which we live and the fan­tas­ti­cal two-dimen­sion­al one those char­ac­ters inhab­it, in the process demon­strat­ing that both some­how car­ry an equal weight. How, then, do these most respect­ed of all ani­ma­tors so con­sis­tent­ly pull it off, cre­at­ing real­is­tic worlds through an inher­ent­ly unre­al­is­tic medi­um? In “The Immer­sive Real­ism of Stu­dio Ghi­b­li,” the video essay just above, Ash­er Isbruck­er address­es that very ques­tion, look­ing into the nuts and bolts of their ani­ma­tion tech­niques as well as, through Miyaza­k­i’s own words, what we might call their ani­ma­tion phi­los­o­phy.

Stu­dio Ghi­b­li has stayed (at the very least) a cut above oth­er ani­ma­tors not just by virtue of their exper­tise at cre­at­ing con­vinc­ing phys­i­cal worlds — whether or not their physics aligns with that of our own — but at cre­at­ing con­vinc­ing emo­tion­al worlds, pop­u­lat­ed with char­ac­ters full of desires and con­tra­dic­tions of their own. In “Hayao Miyaza­ki — The Essence of Human­i­ty,” which Ayun Hal­l­i­day wrote up here last year, video essay­ist Lewis Bond of Chan­nel Criswell exam­ines Miyaza­k­i’s “approach to ani­mat­ed film­mak­ing that con­cen­trates on the emo­tion­al intri­ca­cies of his sub­jects, as opposed to cre­at­ing — iron­i­cal­ly — car­toony char­ac­ters,” result­ing in ani­mat­ed films that don’t speak down to chil­dren but “help us all fur­ther under­stand the human con­di­tion.”

Once you start seri­ous­ly try­ing to answer the ques­tion of what makes a Nau­si­caä of the Val­ley of the Wind or a My Neigh­bor Totoro or a Spir­it­ed Away so cap­ti­vat­ing, an abun­dance of rea­sons occur. Just above in “Hayao Miyaza­ki: What You Can Imag­ine,” JD Thomp­son iden­ti­fies the pow­er of imag­i­na­tion that ani­mates, lit­er­al­ly and fig­u­ra­tive­ly, all of Ghi­b­li’s movies. Below in “Hayao Miyaza­ki — Every­thing by Hand,” the video essay­ist RC Ani­me con­sid­ers the sheer amount of labor that goes into work that flies under the flag of “one of the hard­est-work­ing ani­me direc­tors,” and how it ulti­mate­ly deliv­ers more impact with sim­ple ges­tures than oth­er high-pro­file pieces of ani­ma­tion do with extend­ed action set pieces.

All these video essays touch on one espe­cial­ly impor­tant part of Miyaza­k­i’s cre­ative process: he begins mak­ing a film not with a script to be strict­ly adhered to, but with a series of sketch­es and sto­ry­boards. Dur­ing the long and ardu­ous course of pro­duc­tion, the sto­ry can thus change to suit the needs of the char­ac­ters, their emo­tions, and the worlds imag­ined around them. This pri­ma­cy of the image makes sense for a cre­ator like Miyaza­ki, who began with the child­hood dream of becom­ing a com­ic artist, and who dur­ing his peri­od­ic “retire­ments” returns his focus to that much sim­pler medi­um. He has, in fact, just emerged from the lat­est such retire­ment and got­ten to work on anoth­er ani­mat­ed fea­ture, as revealed in a tele­vi­sion doc­u­men­tary on his life and work appro­pri­ate­ly titled Owaranai Hito — “The Man Who Does­n’t Stop.”

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Essence of Hayao Miyaza­ki Films: A Short Doc­u­men­tary About the Human­i­ty at the Heart of His Ani­ma­tion

Watch Hayao Miyaza­ki Ani­mate the Final Shot of His Final Fea­ture Film, The Wind Ris­es

Soft­ware Used by Hayao Miyazaki’s Ani­ma­tion Stu­dio Becomes Open Source & Free to Down­load

Watch Hayao Miyazaki’s Beloved Char­ac­ters Enter the Real World

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Watch Hayao Miyazaki’s Beloved Characters Enter the Real World

Beau­ti­ful back­grounds are a sta­ple of direc­tor Hayao Miyaza­ki’s ani­mat­ed fea­tures. Whether depict­ing a whim­si­cal Euro­pean vil­lage, a mas­sive tra­di­tion­al bath­house com­plex pop­u­lat­ed by ghosts, or a rainy bus stop in sub­ur­ban Tokyo, they come to the fore in the qui­et moments for which this direc­tor is also deserved­ly cel­e­brat­ed.

Giv­en the rev­er­ence this old-fash­ioned artistry has inspired, it was par­tic­u­lar­ly auda­cious of Kore­an film­mak­er Kojer to sep­a­rate some of Miyazaki’s best known char­ac­ters from their hand-paint­ed habi­tats, via a painstak­ing Roto­scop­ing pro­ce­dure.

Their lib­er­a­tion was short lived, giv­en that Kojer’s inter­est lay in trans­pos­ing them onto live action approx­i­ma­tions of the Stu­dio Ghi­b­li orig­i­nals.

Shot pri­mar­i­ly in South Korea, the new set­tings, above, are uncan­ny dop­pel­gängers, fol­low­ing some vig­or­ous Pho­to­shop­ping. One won­ders if Kojer expe­ri­enced any regret, sev­er­al hun­dred hours into this masochis­tic assign­ment. So many challenges—from shad­ows to light­ing to cloudy skies in need of alter­ing, frame by painstak­ing frame. The obsta­cles posed by semi-trans­par­ent char­ac­ters such as Spir­it­ed Away’s No Face sound pos­i­tive­ly unearth­ly.

Clear­ly a labor of love from an artist whose most high pro­file work seems to be a web­series star­ring his own hand. His quest took him to Provence Vil­lage in Paju, South Korea and Seoul’s Olympic Park. He rode the #4 line sub­way to the end of the line and the #2 to Seok­chon Lake where the Amer­i­can art col­lec­tive FriendswithYou’s Super Moon project float­ed ear­li­er this year.

The result—some of it some shot out a car win­dow and cor­rect­ed in Adobe’s Warp Stabilizer—is set to the tune of “One Sum­mer’s Day” from Spir­it­ed Away.

Love­ly.

via Slate

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Build Your Own Minia­ture Sets from Hayao Miyazaki’s Beloved Films: My Neigh­bor Totoro, Kiki’s Deliv­ery Ser­vice & More

Soft­ware Used by Hayao Miyazaki’s Ani­ma­tion Stu­dio Becomes Open Source & Free to Down­load

The Simp­sons Pay Won­der­ful Trib­ute to the Ani­me of Hayao Miyaza­ki

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City in March 2017. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Woody: A Prize-Winning Short Animation About a Wooden Man’s Dream of Becoming a Concert Pianist

“Ever since he was a child, Woody has dreamt of play­ing piano. The prob­lem is that he only has wood­en pad­dles for hands. Stuck in a job he doesn’t want, Woody spends his days dream­ing of being a con­cert pianist. His dreams are big…but they’re about to get out of hand.”

That’s how ani­ma­tor Stu­art Bowen sets up the short ani­mat­ed film, sim­ply called “Woody.”

Bowen shot the film on a pret­ty tight bud­get, with mon­ey raised large­ly through crowd­fund­ing. The direc­tor notes: “We built the sets out of paper, foam-core, & card­board so we could achieve an ‘in-cam­era’ look while keep­ing costs down. We shot black and white because coloured ink was too expen­sive. We sourced hun­dreds of Bar­bie clothes through Face­book to dress the crowd and were extreme­ly for­tu­nate to have a large group of vol­un­teers keen to help make the film.”

Screened at count­less film fes­ti­vals in 2013 and 2014, “Woody” won the award for best ani­mat­ed short at the Seat­tle Film Fes­ti­val and received an AACTA award for best short ani­ma­tion (among oth­er acco­lades).

You can find many oth­er cre­ative ani­ma­tions in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Why You Can Nev­er Tune a Piano

Hear Friedrich Nietzsche’s Clas­si­cal Piano Com­po­si­tions: They’re Apho­ris­tic Like His Phi­los­o­phy

The Mak­ing of a Stein­way Grand Piano, From Start to Fin­ish

 

Watch Animations of Two Italo Calvino Stories: “The False Grandmother” and “The Distance from the Moon”

There are those books we go to not to escape this world, but to expe­ri­ence the truth of a mys­te­ri­ous­ly attrib­uted quote, “There is anoth­er world, and it is this one.” That is to say that the worlds we find in cer­tain nov­els are no less filled with dread, ambi­gu­i­ty, and moral freight than our own. But these sorts of sto­ries offer new maps for real­i­ty. They may at first be those of the Protes­tant the­ol­o­gy and Vic­to­ri­an moral­i­ty of C.S. Lewis, whose Nar­nia books (avail­able in a free audio for­mat here) rather lit­er­al­ly give us anoth­er world in this one.

But we may soon find our­selves cat­a­pult­ed into the neu­rot­ic night­mares of Kaf­ka, the sci-fi para­noia of Philip K. Dick, the postin­dus­tri­al ennui of J.G. Bal­lard, the scholas­tic labyrinths of Borges, and.… Well, what are we to call the work of Invis­i­ble Cities and If on a Winter’s Night a Trav­el­er author Ita­lo Calvi­no? Jonathan Galas­si iden­ti­fies Calvi­no as a post­mod­ern folk­lorist, drawn into the mature idiom of his best-known books by his sus­tained engage­ment in “the mag­is­te­r­i­al anthol­o­gy Ital­ian Folk­tales” in 1956, a task that made him into “a mod­ern-day Grimm.”

Calvino’s facil­i­ty with the light mag­ic of folk­lore infus­es his work with a fleet-foot­ed­ness and brevi­ty that can mask its high seri­ous­ness. Two years after com­pil­ing his anthol­o­gy, he wrote that his “true direc­tion” was “the cri­sis of the bour­geois intel­lec­tu­al seen crit­i­cal­ly from the inside.” This accounts both for the the­o­ret­i­cal sophis­ti­ca­tion of his prose and the exper­i­men­tal form. Calvi­no bests even Borges as an exper­i­men­tal­ist, writ­ing large parts of If on a Winter’s Night a Trav­el­er in the impe­ri­ous sec­ond per­son, and pulling it off bril­liant­ly.

How­ev­er, Calvi­no will often break into the nov­el to remind us of the arti­fice, and at one point declare his desire “to fol­low the men­tal mod­els through which we live our human events.” Those mod­els, Calvi­no sug­gests, are not orga­nized and sys­tem­at­ic. They are as mean­der­ing and episod­ic as fairy tales, filled with irrel­e­vant detail that we pick up in fas­ci­na­tion then quick­ly for­get. It’s a dis­com­fit­ing idea for ratio­nal­ists. But for those who know that life is lived in sto­ries, it rings per­fect­ly true.

In the two ani­mat­ed videos here, we see Calvino’s genius for con­jur­ing irra­tional fables. At the top John Tur­tur­ro reads Calvino’s “The False Grand­moth­er” from his folk­lore anthol­o­gy, a ver­sion of the “Lit­tle Red Rid­ing Hood” sto­ry. And in the (sub­ti­tled) Hebrew-lan­guage ani­ma­tion above (per­fect­ly scored by Erik Satie), we see an adap­ta­tion of Calvino’s “The Dis­tance from the Moon” from Cos­mi­comics, a col­lec­tion whose fic­tions, writes Ted Gioia, “are absurd and inco­her­ent, yet the plot lines are filled with romance, dra­ma, and con­flicts that draw the read­ers deep­er and deep­er into the text.”

They are also filled with sci­en­tif­ic ideas: “Each sto­ry in Cos­mi­comics begins with a sci­en­tif­ic premise.” Like many a crit­i­cal human­ist before him, from Michel de Mon­taigne to Jonathan Swift, Calvi­no seems to won­der if our best intel­lec­tu­al efforts, even the sci­ences, fall sub­ject to “the foibles and fan­cies of humans,” and to the askew nar­ra­tive log­ic of folk­lore.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ita­lo Calvi­no Offers 14 Rea­sons We Should Read the Clas­sics

Hear Ita­lo Calvi­no Read Selec­tions From Invis­i­ble Cities, Mr. Palo­mar & Oth­er Enchant­i­ng Fic­tions

Invis­i­ble Cities Illus­trat­ed: Three Artists Paint Every City in Ita­lo Calvino’s Clas­sic Nov­el

Expe­ri­ence Invis­i­ble Cities, an Inno­v­a­tive, Ita­lo Calvi­no-Inspired Opera Staged in LA’s Union Sta­tion

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

New Animation Brings to Life a Lost 1974 Interview with Leonard Cohen, and Cohen Reading His Poem “Two Slept Together”

Leonard Cohen was graced with a dis­tinc­tive slow burn of a voice, a man­ly purr well suit­ed to the louche mys­ter­ies of his most famous lyrics.

His death prompt­ed a post-elec­tion out­pour­ing from his already crest­fall­en fans, who sought cathar­sis by shar­ing the myr­i­ad ways in which his music had touched their lives.

As Cohen remarked in a 1995 inter­view with the New York Times

Music is like bread. It is one of the fun­da­men­tal nour­ish­ments that we have avail­able, and there are many dif­fer­ent vari­eties and degrees and grades. A song that is use­ful, that touch­es some­body, must be mea­sured by that util­i­ty alone. ‘Cheap music’ is an unchar­i­ta­ble descrip­tion. If it touch­es you, it’s not cheap. From a cer­tain point of view, all our emo­tions are cheap, but those are the only ones we’ve got. It’s lone­li­ness and long­ing and desire and cel­e­bra­tion.

Rolling Stone dubbed Cohen the Poet Lau­re­ate Of Out­rage And Roman­tic Despair. It’s far from his only nick­name, but it man­ages to encom­pass most of the oth­er 325 that super fan Allan Showal­ter col­lect­ed for his Cohen­cen­tric site.

Have you used Cohen’s music to “illu­mi­nate or dig­ni­fy your court­ing” (to bor­row anoth­er phrase from that Times inter­view)?

If so, you deserve to know that those seduc­tive lyrics aren’t always what they seem.

For one thing, he nev­er got car­nal with Suzanne.

Dit­to the “Sis­ters of Mer­cy.” Turns out they real­ly “weren’t lovers like that.” Cohen var­ied the facts a bit over the years, when called upon to recount this song’s ori­gin sto­ry. The loca­tion of the ini­tial meet­ing was a mov­ing tar­get, and ear­ly on, van­i­ty, or per­haps a rep­u­ta­tion to uphold, caused him to omit a cer­tain crit­i­cal detail regard­ing the night spent with two young women he bumped into in snowy Edmon­ton.

The 1974 radio inter­view with Kath­leen Kendel, above—straight from the horse’s mouth, and fresh­ly ani­mat­ed for PBS’ Blank on Blank series—brings to mind that pil­lar of young male sex com­e­dy, the close-but-no-cig­ar erot­ic encounter.

PBS’ Blank on Blank ani­ma­tor, Patrick Smith, wise­ly employs a light­ly humor­ous touch in depict­ing Cohen’s wild imag­in­ing of the delights Bar­bara and Lor­raine had in store for him. Whether or not they looked like the Dou­blemint Twins is a ques­tion for the ages.

The ani­ma­tion kicks off with a read­ing of his 1964 poem, “Two Went to Sleep,” an ellip­ti­cal jour­ney into the realm of the uncon­scious, a set­ting that pre­oc­cu­pied Cohen the poet. (See the far less pla­ton­ic-seem­ing “My Lady Can Sleep” and “Now of Sleep­ing” for starters…)

You can hear the inter­view Blank on Blank excerpt­ed for the above ani­ma­tion in its entire­ty here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Hear Leonard Cohen’s Final Inter­view: Record­ed by David Rem­nick of The New York­er

How Leonard Cohen’s Stint As a Bud­dhist Monk Can Help You Live an Enlight­ened Life

Ani­mat­ed Video: John­ny Cash Explains Why Music Became a Reli­gious Call­ing

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er, Leonard Cohen fan and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Her play Zam­boni Godot is open­ing in New York City in March 2017. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Iconic Footage of Jimi Hendrix Playing “Hey Joe” Rendered in the Style of Moebius, with the Help of Neural Network Technology

We are less than a year into neur­al net­work tech­nol­o­gy, and Google’s Deep Dream soft­ware is already yield­ing impres­sive results beyond the dog-slugs of its first videos. YouTu­ber Lulu xXX has been play­ing around with blend­ing art with music videos, and is onto some­thing with this clip that mesh­es icon­ic live footage of the Jimi Hen­drix Expe­ri­ence (fea­tured below) with the art of Jean Giraud aka Moe­bius.

The French car­toon­ist and illus­tra­tor was a big fan of Hen­drix. He designed the cov­ers of a French com­pi­la­tion LP of Hendrix’s first two albums, and includ­ed him in sev­er­al art prints, where the musi­cian is a cool, often angel­ic pres­ence.

So Lulu xXX right­ly chose Moe­bius’ par­tic­u­lar style through which to process this icon­ic “Hey Joe” footage record­ed in 1967. As you see, when the neur­al net­work is fed more line-based work, it tru­ly does get close to “Moe­bius ani­mates Hen­drix.” Watch the side-by-side ver­sion below and let us know what you thinks works best.

In a few more years, this video may seem charm­ing­ly naive as neur­al net­work­ing improves. Think how Pixar evolved, or how video games devel­oped. The results may be so good that we won’t know if we’re see­ing some­thing hand­made or a per­fect sim­u­la­tion. We might have to lean over and ask our Jimi Hen­drix holo­gram to tell us the truth.

via Laugh­ing Squid

Relat­ed con­tent:

Moe­bius Gives 18 Wis­dom-Filled Tips to Aspir­ing Artists (1996)

Moe­bius’ Sto­ry­boards & Con­cept Art for Jodorowsky’s Dune

Jimi Hen­drix Wreaks Hav­oc on the Lulu Show, Gets Banned From BBC (1969)

Ted Mills is a free­lance writer on the arts who cur­rent­ly hosts the FunkZone Pod­cast. You can also fol­low him on Twit­ter at @tedmills, read his oth­er arts writ­ing at tedmills.com and/or watch his films here.

Watch Moebius and Miyazaki, Two of the Most Imaginative Artists, in Conversation (2004)

The worlds so thor­ough­ly imag­ined by the French com­ic artist Jean Giraud, bet­ter known as Moe­bius, and the Japan­ese ani­ma­tor Hayao Miyaza­ki, imme­di­ate­ly rec­og­nized the world over by his fam­i­ly name alone, could have arisen from no oth­er artis­tic minds. It stands to rea­son not only that appre­ci­a­tors of one would appre­ci­ate the oth­er, but that the two men would hold each oth­er’s work in high regard. “Japan­ese ani­ma­tion is impres­sive,” Moe­bius once said to Miyaza­ki as the two expressed their mutu­al appre­ci­a­tion. “I real­ly think it is the best in the world, and Miyaza­k­i’s work is top in Japan.”

“Moe­bius first dis­cov­ered Miyaza­k­i’s work in 1986, when his son Julien (then a school­boy) showed him a pirate copy of a video con­tain­ing a title­less, author­less, and undubbed ani­mat­ed fea­ture,” writes Dani Cav­al­laro in The Ani­me Art of Hayao Miyaza­ki. “The French artist was instant­ly seduced by the film’s graph­ic vig­or and tech­ni­cal inven­tive­ness but took it to be the one-off accom­plish­ment of an unfamed ani­ma­tor. When he even­tu­al­ly dis­cov­ered that the film’s name was Nau­si­caä of the Val­ley of the Wind and that its cre­ator’s name was Hayao Miyaza­ki, Moe­bius endeav­ored to delve deep­er into the Japan­ese ani­ma­tor’s oeu­vre and to pub­licly voice his admi­ra­tion.”

And Miyaza­ki turns out to have drawn inspi­ra­tion from Moe­bius when he focused on ani­ma­tion. Miyaza­ki, who began as a com­ic artist him­self, remem­bers dis­cov­er­ing Moe­bius through Arzach, his series of word­less visu­al sto­ries of a hero who rides a ptero­dactyl through oth­er­word­ly and for­bid­ding­ly sub­lime land­scapes. “It was a big shock,” says Miyaza­ki. “Not only for me. All man­ga authors were shak­en by this work. Unfor­tu­nate­ly when I dis­cov­ered it, I already had a con­sol­i­dat­ed style. So I could­n’t use his influ­ence to enrich my draw­ing. Though, even today, I think he has an awe­some sense of space. I direct­ed Nau­si­caä under Moe­bius’ influ­ence.”

In 2004, the exhi­bi­tion Miyazaki/Moebius pre­sent­ed brought them togeth­er in Paris. Cav­al­laro describes it as “a panoram­ic sur­vey of the two artists’ careers through 300 works includ­ing water­col­ors sto­ry­boards, cels and con­cept designs, the­mat­i­cal­ly arranged, drawn from their per­son­al col­lec­tions,” includ­ing a draw­ing of Nau­si­caä by Moe­bius and one of Arzach by Miyaza­ki. They also sat down there for the con­ver­sa­tion record­ed in the video above. “The 21st cen­tu­ry is a tricky time,” says Miyaza­ki. “Our future isn’t clear. We need to re-exam­ine many things we’ve tak­en for grant­ed, whether it’s our com­mon sense or our way of think­ing.” The sheer imag­i­na­tive pow­er of artists like the both of them con­tin­ues to show us the way for­ward.

You can read tran­scripts of their record­ed con­ver­sa­tions here and here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

In Search of Mœbius: A Doc­u­men­tary Intro­duc­tion to the Inscrutable Imag­i­na­tion of the Late Com­ic Artist Mœbius

French Stu­dent Sets Inter­net on Fire with Ani­ma­tion Inspired by Moe­bius, Syd Mead & Hayao Miyaza­ki

Moe­bius Gives 18 Wis­dom-Filled Tips to Aspir­ing Artists (1996)

Watch Hayao Miyaza­ki Ani­mate the Final Shot of His Final Fea­ture Film, The Wind Ris­es

Watch Ground­break­ing Com­ic Artist Mœbius Draw His Char­ac­ters in Real Time

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

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Open Culture was founded by Dan Colman.