Another year flittered through my fingers.
Naturally the blame doesn't reside entirely with myself: covid, lockdowns and the like have undoubtedly played a tremendous role in sabotaging everyone's year. I am just another casualty.
Despite having no excuse to leave my room, all this time spent inside rarely materialised into any creative impulse. Instead, I spent most of this year staring at the ceiling of my new home. I truly regret not spending this time responsibly.
Balancing my time across various disciplines has also become an uphill battle. To be incredibly pretentious for a moment, I like to think of myself as a 'gentleman of the arts': a well-rounded, evened-out individual with a taste and talent for each artform. Whether it is age, a lack of time or the death of passion, I am seemingly unable to maintain this balancing act: now time spent in one craft invariably means regressing in another.
The biggest casualty of this exercise has been guitar. Half a decade ago it was my only serious artistic outlet. It came with a certain confidence: playing in public, improvising and writing songs all came naturally. This summer I decided to pick up the guitar earnestly for the first time since my imprisonment admission to the ward. I had forgotten everything. Apart from some 'staples' (a mish-mash of Kings of Convenience and my own compositions) I knew nothing. My fingers felt stiff yet infirm. I could only stare blankly at the fretboard. I am still shocked and embarrassed by this regression. It was barely a year since I had last played!
Despite that, I won't focus my attention on guitar. Or rather, I cannot. Seriously picking it up again would mean that something else is sacrificed; rebalancing for that lost talent ultimately jeopardises another. It's a very tiring game.
⬩◈⬩
The Valentine Watch was on hiatus for the bulk of the year. My mind is still scattered from last year's events and only now has it recovered to the point where I can reintroduce myself to its development. While I had long since lost that raving passion that drove me to work sixty-hour weeks, a similar hunger has materialised in recent weeks. Not quite the fervour of 2018, just a small taste. One morning I simply woke up, opened the program and started coding for several hours, oblivious to my surroundings and even my own body. I felt like Henry Case the first time he jacked into cyberspace. Since then, I've had a handful of similar experiences.
⬩◈⬩
Despite the absence of tangible progress in every metric I feel like I'm going through a metamorphosis, both mentally and spiritually. Something is brewing inside. So much time spent in isolation has brought about a great deal of uncomfortable introspection and self-examination. It has been a crucible. These challenging thoughts paired with my reading interests have reconstructed my psyche. I hope that these changes will start bearing fruit.
In the meantime, I have little to cover in terms of media: galleries, cinemas and venues have all been closed so there have been few opportunities for me to sink my teeth into something new. As such, these categories, much like myself, will be out of their usual balance.
Games
I struggle to see why I continue to dedicate an entire section to a medium that seems so out of sync with my own sensibilities. Unsurprisingly, this year has been no exception. It has been defined by what I would call "meme games". Existing on the periphery of the indie sphere for at least a decade, this year they have assumed centre stage. Utterly vapid, they find their popularity through streamers. Fall Guys and Among Us are the most obvious examples. Naturally, this repugnant trend will be shamelessly milked for all its worth. 2021 will see its continued rise, with games increasingly being made for streamers as opposed to players.
⬩◈⬩
Needless to say, I have not played anything new this year; even my old retro consoles are in disuse as I no longer have a TV. The only game I've actually played is Minecraft. It was my first time playing since 2012.
Back then, my game-sense was formidable; even on harder difficulties I rarely struggled. It would not be impertinent to call me a 'expert'.
However, when I started out again this year I was paralysed by the game's difficulty. While things largely looked and felt the same (the feeling of knocking down your first tree will never leave you) the fear evoked by each monster was now tremendous. They had become frighteningly capable killers while my own abilities had deteriorated into irrelevance. I died on the first night.
It was an interesting experience. It's fantastic to see the game alive and thriving a decade after I first started playing. In many ways, Minecraft displays the ideal relationship between developers and players.
And yet, despite all the new additions the game didn't feel any more 'complete' than the day I quit. There's a 'hollowness' that remains. A magic that is still missing. Back then it was expected and understood: the game was still in pre-release so its lack of completeness was excused. I'm sure many of us, myself included, have thought of ideas for updates that have since been added. But even then, once the initial excitement wears off, they are quickly forgotten and new ideas are conjured to fill this void. Something still feels missing despite all of the additional megabytes.
I think it has to do with the fact that these updates rarely refine the core game loop. Minecraft's updates (as well as most other games) have an emphasis on adding new features rather than polishing the preexisting ones. Inevitably, these new additions are also unrefined. While some old loose ends are tied, new dangling threads are also introduced.
These additions are nothing more than distractions; entirely superficial and incidental to the player's enjoyment. To truly complete such games, the core game loop must be perfected. In the case of Minecraft this would involve the act of exploring, mining and constructing. This does not mean an expansion of these concepts. Instead, it is the act of perfecting the feeling of exploration, mining and constructing.
At the very least, the effects of Minecraft's updates are rarely detrimental as the new inclusions avoid tampering with its core gameplay loop. However, games like Sub Rosa were completely destroyed by half-baked ideas that degraded the core cycle. As soon as the open world was introduced the existing game-loop disintegrated as it became a mere sub-component of the new game loop. Players had to navigate through it's new, vacant world to find the 'old' game loop.
So what's the solution in these instances? How do you overcome hollowness? I think it's simple: polish harder. If the game loop is already fulfilling, simply move on to polishing the unrefined mechanics as nothing more is needed. The magic and majesty of masterpieces are found in these core mechanics. Perfection is rarely found in abundance.
Think Chess. Or if you want something vaguely contemporary, think Super Mario 64. These games are 'complete' in the sense that any and all alterations to the basic game would do more harm than good as every element is already in a perfect, delicate balance to produce the whole. That is not to say that nothing could be added, but that nothing more is needed.
Modern games are addicted to frivolity having mistaken the novel for the contemplative.
It has been a difficult year for filmwatching. I much prefer going to the cinema than watching at home: better ambience, a better screen and a better collection of films, to put it simply. Now not all blame lay with Corona; my new home is several hours from any decent cinema. As such, I have only been to the cinema once since lockdown began (a special showing of The Shining). No festivals this year either, sadly.
Despite that, my pre-corona days were filled with several screenings, many of which were very good. There were two in particular that I want to draw special attention to: So Long, My Son and Parasite.
Needless to say, Parasite was worth the wait. I had planned to go to a special screening with a live stream Q&A with Bong Joon-ho and Song Kang-ho back in March. However, this was abruptly cancelled after the projector crashed five minutes into the screening. This had never happened to me before, so of course this disaster just had to happen at my most anticipated screening.
A few weeks later and another opportunity arose. My god, was this film good. While I wouldn't say that this is his best film (that title goes to Memories of Murder) it had a masterful air to it unlike any of his other films. The reason for my lack of enjoyment is rather petty: the constant trepidation was exhausting. As much as I wanted to keep watching, my heart simply couldn't endure the torturous, drawn out tension. Such a weak complaint, I know, but the intensity of these feelings hampered my ability to digest the film. Aside from my weak stomach I have nothing against it and I'm glad that it got the recognition it deserved. I cannot wait to see what he does next.
So Long, My Son was a pleasant surprise. Most Chinese cinema that reaches the UK is dark, nihilistic and cynical. That's not to say that they are bad (An Elephant Sitting Still has a special place in my heart). I was simply caught off-guard with this touching, sentimental story.
It is rather slow and laborious (another quirk of Chinese cinema that I'm not particularly fond of) and it is terribly disorientating as scenes can jump between decades without declaration. And still, despite all of these flaws, the film stripped away my defences and left me deeply emotional. I've never cried that much in a cinema before.
While these two films were the highlights of my year, I'm obliged to mention a few others that left a strong impression: Victoria, Knives Out, Good Time, Dancer in the Dark.
Once again, it seems as if my interest is drawing me further east. Like music, there's no doubt that this growing appetite will be left painfully unsatisfied thanks to the lack of access in this hemisphere.
Music
It has been another year dominated by East Asian music. Rather interestingly, this revitalised curiosity wasn't spurred on by China or Japan but surprisingly, Korea:
In my experience, Korea's music scene has felt more distant than Japan or China's (with the exception of K-Pop, of course). In my deep explorations of Asian math, emo and shoegaze I rarely, if ever, stumbled upon a Korean band (the only one I can think of is Secret Asian Men).
This all changed with my discovery of Mid-Air Thief:
Their album, Crumbling, has rarely been out of my mind since I first started listening back in April. I have a hard time describing its eclectic sound. To put it brashly, I would describe it as a schizophrenic range of sounds crashing together to inexplicably produce elegant, enthralling, and enchanting tracks. Their atmosphere is simply magical.
⬩◈⬩
Later in Summer I came across Yellow Kitchen:
The song, Just Blew By, captured my imagination for many months. I dreamed of it. It would play in my silence. The band's album, Mushroom, Kleidose, Echoway (my favourite title ever) is very uneven in terms of quality but its great emotive highs (such as the aforementioned) has made it another favourite of mine.
⬩◈⬩
Outside of Korea, I've gotten into a few other Asian bands. This past week I have discovered Bronbaba. While a bit hasty, I think one or two of their albums will end up joining my all-time favourites list. So many of their songs sound just right. It is the most refreshing take on emo I've heard in a long time.
With regards to China, I have discovered a couple of bands here and there: 缺省, Schoolgirl Byebye, 枕头人,... However, I feel like my most notable discovery (or rather, awakening) is my newfound appreciation of Duck Fight Goose. While I loved their progenitor, LAVA|OX|SEA (and it's progenitor, Lowspirit), I couldn't get on board with Duck's abrasive, frenetic, electronic sound, particularly in their second album. I'm not sure what's changed but I am in love with it now. I have always been averse to electronic music so it comes as a surprise. I have now dipped my toe into electronic (Shanghai futurist electronic, no less). Perhaps it's my recent interest in accelerationism and cyberpunk that has brought it about. If that's the case, never would I have guessed that philosophy would have such a strong influence on my music tastes.
Compared to other years I feel like I've explored so much more music. The catalyst for this was undoubtedly YouTube, of all things. I am utterly thankful that it's become home to so many obscure albums. No longer do I have to trove through alien websites to find something worth listening to. I don't know when this happened, either; the lack of music on YouTube is what sent me to Douban and the like several years ago. The thought of going back to those sites seems ridiculous now. I really don't think I'll have to worry about exhausting myself ever again.
⬩◈⬩
Lastly, I should mention that I finally learned Janis Crunch's Rob Call! I am very pleased. It is simply a joy to play. I can sincerely say that I just love the piano.
Art
I have not been to a single art gallery this year. For shame! All of them are closed with no sign of reopening anytime soon. It is truly frustrating. As such, I have discovered very little this year.
The one artist of merit worth mentioning is Henri le Sidaner:
The lack of clarity in his paintings creates a dream-like quality. The absence of detail draws my eyes instead to the picture as a whole. I feel like this effect brings me closer to the feeling and atmosphere of each piece. When I look at it, it feels as if I am remembering a distant memory: a dark night along the Venice seafront, a leisurely stroll at sunrise through a quiet French town...
All of his work conjures a similar sense of calm and intimacy. Pure and soft like some sweet fantasy.
⬩◈⬩
Online, I came across a Japanese artist called Orie. While I appreciate the Japanese anime-esque style I find the entire scene's obsession with girls to be tiring. This entire space can largely be reduced to attractive, cute and infantile young girls. It seems like such a waste of talent. That is not the case here. While the subject matter is quintessential the emotions are much more nuanced:
Paired with exceptional technical ability the results are enthralling. I would really love to see their physical paintings in person.
⬩◈⬩
As for my own drawing, this year has been somewhat successful. Back in May I drew what I would consider my best-ever piece:
Unfortunately I have not drawn since June so whatever extra talent I conjured up then has likely already withered and died. I hope to get back to it at some point soon but this dreaded balancing act means it likely won't happen until life drawing sessions start again and they become a part of my weekly routine.
Manga
Despite the fact that this medium should be the least affected by lockdown, I have read worryingly little this year. Apart from finishing The Promised Neverland (which is not worth poring over), there is little that even springs to mind.
Outside of Chainsawman and A Trail of Blood the only titles I read were niche, bite-sized stories I stumbled upon here or there. Of which, I can't seem to remember at all.
Literature
And now for the big one.
I am still bewildered by the sheer influence reading has had upon my character. Last year I blushed at the fact that every book felt like an eye-opening experience. I thought this was due to novelty; that it would wear off as I delved deeper into the medium. Over one year later and this effect lingers, as strong as the day I completed my first page. I think this may just be how it is. Knowledge from all other mediums appears increasingly inconsequential in comparison.
I feel like I've been living life through such a narrow lens. Looking back, it is frightening how little I knew. Worse still, society seems content with people knowing as little as possible, completely unaware of their own intellectual potential.
All of these great works are tucked far, far away from the mainstream. Any great book that somehow slips through this recess is not actually read but instead diluted by more convenient forms of mass media. Worse still, there is now no one there to guide us: all the great men are already dead and centres of learning have become nothing more than crèches with alcohol for those with a modicum of intelligence.
I apologise for my panicking, end-of-the-world ramblings but this problem is something I can't unsee. We really are living at the end of history: society is unravelling, dystopia is already here, brought upon by transcendent forces incomprehensible to the layman.
Before this rant sends me back to the asylum, I shall end it here. I plan on writing something much more thoughtful and meticulous than the above regarding this topic in the coming weeks.
⬩◈⬩
Nick Land's Fanged Noumena has been the most-influential book that I have read this year (I can already picture reader's eyes rolling). This behemoth took just over three months to read and is by far the most impenetrable book that I have read. I'm not sure if I even understood half of Land's writing but those little bits and pieces that I scraped from each essay had a profound impact: my views on the nature of life and capitalism have been entirely reassembled. I am certain that the world's outcome implied by his essays is an absolute certainty unless staved-off by equally cataclysmic events: nuclear war, worldwide religious reawakening,... In that sense, I am a reluctant accelerationist.
I found Land through Mark Fisher whom I also enjoyed (although his more grounded, depressing analysis did not capture me in the same way). That said, I must find time to read Hauntology and Lost Futures this year.
Outside of accelerationism, my year's reading has been dominated by philosophy. Getting through Adam Smith's The Wealth of Nations took the bulk of summer. It was refreshing to hear ideas about capitalism without the dogma that has bogged down its discussion for the past century.
Chesterton's What's Wrong with the World? was simply a joy to read. His writing style is by far the sweetest that I have encountered. In essence, he is the best bits of John Ruskin and Oscar Wilde.
This year I have read very little fiction. Neuromancer and Dreams of Amputation were the only two novels I read. However, in October I started reading The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoevsky. It more than makes up for my lack of fiction. While it took some time to acclimate to the Russian style of storytelling, I am enjoying things so far. I expect that I'll write something significant about it next year's entry.
Final Remark
Though it might be a little too early to call, it seems as if things are progressing again. The end point of The Valentine Watch still seems impossibly far but I think for the first time in my life I have accepted this uncomfortable truth. It will come when it's ready. That is all that matters. I will continue pushing, by yard or foot or inch until I get there, however long that may be.
This relatively positive turn in my life is all thanks to the move I made at the time of my previous post. Despite the panics, lockdowns and other hysteria – international or otherwise – I feel like I have attained a certain calm in this new place. Admittedly, it is rather tenuous: my mental state has taken some dark, worrying turns. In the meantime, I must cultivate a strong enough foundation that can prevent these rabid beasts from taking hold of my life again.
Though there is no use agonising over these uncertainties. Life is still in lockdown so I am free. Many more books to read and games to make. Slowly but surely, I will climb upwards to the sublime...
